Those who're reading along as this story is posted, please note:
There's been a strange development in the traffic patterns for this story, and it's got me a little worried. On the occasions when I've posted two chapters at once, the first chapter I post for the night gets, say, 50 hits from 50 distinct visitors. The second chapter for the same night gets, say, 100 hits from 100 distinct visitors. It looks to me like when I post two chapters at once, some of you are missing the first chapter posted and going directly to the most recently posted one. So, if you've been reading this as its parts are posted, please check and make sure you've hit them all. There's pieces of the puzzle in every chapter, and I'd hate for anyone to miss something important.
Now, back to the story...
One Less - Part 13
by joy katleen
On the way back to the office, Gibbs called McGee and told him to pull the files and forensics on the two additional cases. He put Ziva on the task of locating the sailor who'd escaped his attackers, and setting up an interview as soon as possible. He also called Tony. DiNozzo had reported to the Roosevelt before they'd discovered the motive for the attacks, and he needed an update.
"So how do you want me to play it, Boss?" DiNozzo asked when Gibbs finished his explanation.
Gibbs had been trying to decide that all afternoon. Chances were they were going to have to set a trap to catch whoever was doing this: The dirtbags had been careful up to now, and eyewitness accounts were unlikely to get this one solved. The best bait would have been Tony, posing as a gay sailor. His handsome looks and the easy way he related to just about everyone would have made him a natural. But he was already known as an NCIS agent. Ziva was female and wouldn't catch their suspect's attention. McGee couldn't do it. He had many skills, but passing as a sailor wasn't one of them. Gibbs himself could have played the part, but Fredrick already knew who he was. Which left them without bait. Unless he wanted to bring in an agent he didn't know, which would certainly be his last choice. On the other hand, the closest two attacks had come more than three months apart, so the chances of them being ready to launch another one this soon was remote. Especially if Ferrara's death had been an accident. They'd likely be a little spooked.
"Show Fredrick you're aggressively straight, moderately homophobic, and slightly offended at the idea of gays serving in the military. Oh, and be Catholic."
"Why?" DiNozzo asked.
"All of the victims were."
"Which means chances are good that so are at least some of the perps," DiNozzo said. "It's been a long time since Catechism, Boss."
"They ranged from devout to lapsed. Just play the part." In the background Gibbs heard the sudden roar of a jet engine starting up. Gibbs pulled the phone away from his ear as the noise peaked, ran high for thirty seconds, then wound down. With the carrier docked, it wouldn't be a launch. Probably an engine test. When the noise subsided, Gibbs continued.
"Couldn't find anywhere else to take a phone call, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked. He could picture where DiNozzo was standing: in or near one of the doorways leading to the flight deck, four and a half acres of smooth steel around him, the control tower rising above his head. Gibbs had spent his fair share of time talking in those doorways as both a Marine on the way to or from deployment, and as an NCIS agent. It was one of the few places on a carrier where privacy could almost be guaranteed. But there were other, more quiet places DiNozzo could have chosen.
"Didn't want anyone overhearing."
"How'd Fredrick take your arrival?" Gibbs asked.
"He's pissed. Given what you've just told me, I think I can work with it, though."
"Good," Gibbs said, and hung up.
His phone rang again almost immediately, startling him. He answered without looking. "Gibbs."
"Where are you?" It was Abby.
"On my way back from Bethesda," he answered.
"Good. Come see me when you get here."
"You have something?" Gibbs asked. He could hear excitement in her voice.
"Yes. But you've got to see it. How long will you be?"
Gibbs scanned the streets around himself. Traffic was in the mid-afternoon lull. Which was to say, only moderately backed up.
"Maybe 15, 20 minutes."
"It'll hold that long. Bye." She hung up first, which Gibbs knew made her smile.
Stopping only for a refill on his coffee and a Caf-Pow for Abby, Gibbs went straight to her lab on his arrival back at headquarters. Abby was sitting at the evidence table on one of her stools, using a small space in the center of one side of the table to look at what appeared to be printed DNA cards. The rest of the table, and most of the floor around it, was covered with plastic evidence tubs. The old evidence from the open assault cases. She was casually dressed today, for her. Baggy black jeans dangling with thick silver chains, a studded belt holding them up, black engineer's boots, a black and red striped shirt, with what looked like a red dog collar around her neck. Her hair was in low ponytails, each tied with hair bands shaped like skulls. And as usual, her white lab coat over it all.
"What'da you got?" he asked as he swept through the doors.
"Spiders," Abby said and took the Caf-Pow from him. "Lots of them." Gibbs could have sworn he saw her shiver.
"I thought you liked spiders," Gibbs said.
"In theory, one or two at a time. There was a nest. With babies. Hundreds of them." This time, she did shiver.
"You get rid of them?" he asked.
"I banged them out of the bucket outside. I think I got them all. You gotta tell those people over at the evidence vault to call the Terminix man."
"I'll put it on my list."
"Thank you. Here's what I found." She lined up 13 DNA cards in two rows on the table. Gibbs stood beside her, looking over her shoulder.
"Here are the cards from six of the cases we've identified, in order of attack. They're the only ones we have where viable DNA samples were recovered, and they represent the first, second, fourth, eighth and ninth attacks in the time line, plus this is what I got from under Petty Officer Ferrara's fingernails. By the way, there was no match in the criminal database on that one, either."
Sensing this was going to take some time, Gibbs pulled up a second stool and sat beside Abby at the table.
"So, what do you see?" she asked when he was seated. Gibbs looked. The cards were print outs of what he saw every time Abby ran a DNA comparison: columns of lines and dashes that looked they'd been photographed and then photocopied. He pulled his glasses out of his pocket and put them on, then looked again.
"I see what I always see. Lines and dashes."
Abby rolled her eyes. "Look at the differences and the similarities between the lines."
He looked a little harder. He knew that each card contained genetic maps of a sample of DNA recovered from a crime scene. Gibbs thought one of the lines on the card to the far right looked similar to one on the card second from the left. He also thought two of the cards in the middle looked similar. He reached around Abby to match up the similar ones.
"These contain matching samples," Gibbs said.
"There you go," Abby said, punching him lightly in the arm. "What else?" He looked some more.
"These lines match," he said, pointing to one of the lines on the card now second from the left and another line on the card now left in the middle. He put one above the other to more closely examine the matching lines.
"Correct again, oh wise one." Abby put her palms together in front of her chest and bowed slightly toward him. Gibbs refrained from rolling his eyes, but only just.
"So, what, is it the same guy or not?" he asked.
"Sometimes," Abby said. Gibbs gave her an exasperated look.
"No, really. Here's what I think is happening." She put the cards back in the order they'd been in.
"This and this are the from the same donor," she said, indicating the right two cards. "And so are these." She again pointed out two similar lines on the cards to the left. "But the four of them don't match each other. And here's another similar match, almost three years apart." She pointed. "But these don't match each other or any of the other samples we have." She indicated lines on other cards.
"What does it mean?"
"I've sorted them out like this." She turned away from the table and hopped off her stool, going to the center console computers. She worked for a minute, then picked up the remote for her plasma and clicked it on. Gibbs stood and went over to the wall-mounted screen.
"DNA from three sources was left at the first crime scene. We'll call them suspects A, B, and C. At the second scene, two samples. A and B again. Then the fourth attack, we've got C again, plus three new donors, suspects D, E and F. They got careless that time. Then for crime number eight…" She saw she was losing him, and changed the view.
"This is bottom line." She put up a picture of six boxes, each with a name of a victim underneath, and a letter representing each of the suspect DNA samples in the box. No suspect was involved in more than two crimes, and several were only involved in one. Gibbs immediately noticed that the sample from the Ferrara crime scene matched one of the three samples recovered from Master Chief Goetz.
"It's not three guys. It's a damn conspiracy," Gibbs said.
"Looks that way," Abby said with an expression that was part apologetic at being the bearer of bad news and part compassion for the increase in her team's workload this would cause. "At least eight distinct individuals were involved in these six attacks. And no single individual has left DNA at all of the scenes."
"Eight people?" Gibbs said incredulously.
"Sorry, Gibbs."
"Not your fault, Abs," Gibbs said. "You get the two new cases yet?"
"McGee called to say they were coming, but nothing yet."
"Alright. Work the evidence. See if you can find any concrete connections. With unconnected DNA, we're going to need more than a string of coincidences to make this case."
"Thought you didn't believe in coincidences," Abby said.
"I don't. But juries sometimes do."
"Copy that. Oh, and I have a couple more things." She skipped over to her computers and started tapping keys. "I found a match on the DOJ database for the fibers from Petty Officer Ferrara's clothes." She showed him the match.
"It's a wool-cotton-neoprene blend, black. Positively matched to cold-weather gloves issued to seven agencies of the federal government: Army, Navy, Air Force, Coast Guard, FBI, DOJ and us."
"Us?" Gibbs asked. He couldn't remember being issued gloves as part of his field gear.
"Yeah. But only to new FLETC graduates beginning in 2005. It was a union thing."
"Any civilian use?"
"That particular blend was specially designed to federal specs. Warm, durable and waterproof. Not available retail, but you could probably find them in your average surplus store."
"So, suggestive of someone in the military, but not conclusive," Gibbs said.
"Could be another coincidence," Abby said.
"Too many of those around lately," Gibbs said. "What else?"
"This." She showed him a small glass evidence jar with several pieces of what looked like melted plastic inside it.
"What is it?" he asked, holding the jar up to look at it against the ceiling lights.
"Parts of a melted water bottle, I think. But that's not what's important. It's what Major Mass Spec found on it that's important."
"And…" Gibbs prompted her.
"Magnesium and ammonium perchlorate."
"Which is what?" he asked.
"Wait for it…" she handed him another jar. This one contained a key ring about the size of a quarter, with a twisted piece of 10 gauge wire and a mostly melted thin metal tag attached to it. Gibbs frowned, then looked up at Abby.
"A grenade pin?" he asked.
"From a stun grenade," Abby confirmed. "The water bottle was probably on the ground near where it went off. The chemical signature left behind on the plastic matches military issue stun grenades."
"So someone set off a flash-bang in that warehouse," Gibbs stated.
"Yup," she nodded.
"Can you trace it?"
Abby shook her head. "Sorry. Not enough left of the ID tag."
"Anything else?"
"That's it for now."
"Thank-you," Gibbs said and turned to go. Abby called after him.
"Seriously, Gibbs, call the evidence vault. I don't want any more unexpected visitors."
Gibbs waved at her over his shoulder as he started upstairs. He would do it, of course. He rarely denied her anything she asked. Just like his Kelly.
"McGee, you get those new reports?" Gibbs asked as he rounded the corner away from the back elevators on the third floor.
"On your desk, boss," McGee said. "All the medical reports I've been able to get are with Ducky. I'm still working on accessing Major Ortiz's complete record. The evidence for the two new cases is being located and should be here by the end of the day."
"What about Brisbin, the victim in the other live case?" Gibbs asked as he dropped his coat on the small cabinet behind his desk and stowed his gun.
"He was discharged from the Navy in July 2007, six months after being attacked in Spain. His veteran's disability checks are being mailed to an address in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho. I haven't been able to find him yet."
"Keep trying," Gibbs said. As one of those who'd been found with the 'One Less' note in their pockets, and as the only other victim on which the statute of limitations hadn't run, they'd need him. "Ziva."
"Culinary Specialist Second Class Leroy Demmings of the USS Mesa Verde is standing by in MTAC, waiting on you."
Gibbs hadn't been expecting that. He'd asked her to find the sailor less than an hour ago. Gibbs looked at her a moment – letting a small expression of approval show – then sat down and pawed through the paperwork on his desk until he found the slim case file on the sailor who'd escaped his attackers. He flipped it open to the investigation summary sheet, slipped on his glasses, and quickly read the pertinent details.
Satisfied he had enough to engage in a useful conversation with Demmings, Gibbs stood and headed for the stairs.
"Come on," he said to his team as he went. They'd both been virtually twitching with the desire to sit in on the interview, but neither one had moved. At his invitation, they both hopped to.
to be continued...
If you didn't read the note at the top, I hope you will now. Oh, and comments and reviews are always welcome. :o)