AUTOPSY LAB, NCIS HEADQUARTERS

Gibbs entered Autopsy, Daniel Jackson on his heels. They'd had coffee at the local coffee shop and had talked about their jobs, their teams and Colonel O'Neill, and where he might have been taken.

While he had done some research on his own regarding Colonel O'Neill's team, Gibbs hadn't been able to find much. He'd found records of Major Carter having done her share of piloting during the first Gulf War and that she should have enough experience in combat --for instance she had level three hand to hand combat training and there were lots of qualifications on the use of several types of weapons in her profile-- so he had no reason to doubt her abilities.

Dr. Jackson, on the other hand, puzzled him. His background in archaeology, ancient languages and mythology were easily accessible, but he hadn't found anything proving the man had at least basic training for combat situations, let alone the use of weapons. He wasn't buying the deep space telemetry crap, but couldn't for the world figure out what a man like Daniel Jackson could contribute to a military operation.

Yet General Hammond had assured him the man had enough combat experience. He took the general's word on that but, besides needing the coffee himself, Gibbs had especially taken the archaeologist to the coffee shop in order to get to know the man.

So Gibbs had been asking a lot of questions. Daniel Jackson had done a lot of talking, but had never let slip anything that Gibbs wasn't supposed to know.

Daniel had told him more about NID, and especially the rogue group that had been caught by Colonel O'Neill. It was clear to Gibbs that O'Neill had been undercover for that job and that his team had been left out of the loop. He didn't get too much detail, though, as Daniel told him most things were classified. It was easy to read between the lines and he knew that Daniel had been hurt by his team leader, by being left in the dark on the operation.

The coffee made him feel a little better. His head still hurt, but his stomach had settled and he felt more awake now than he had when he'd been in MTAC talking to the general. Of course he'd bought Abby her Caf-Pow and had quickly dropped it off. He loved sneaking up on her, knowing she expected him but always failed to hear him coming. It was something from his training, being able to move without anybody noticing.

"Duck," he greeted the older man, "What have you got?"

"Jethro, there you are," Ducky started. He looked at the other man with medical interest and was glad to see Gibbs was looking better than he had that morning. "You had coffee, I presume?"

Gibbs gave a small, affirmative nod then moved closer to the body on the table.

Daniel Jackson also stepped closer and pulled a face. He hadn't been in an autopsy before and seeing a body sliced open wasn't very appealing.

Ducky, taking off his gloves, smiled. "Young man, you look like you've never witnessed an autopsy."

"Uhm... that's true," Daniel replied. "Is this all really necessary?"

Ducky stepped closer, offering his hand. "I'm sorry, but I don't think we've been introduced yet. My name is Doctor Mallard, but my friends call me Ducky."

Daniel was glad to take his eyes off the body and shook the ME's hand. "Daniel Jackson. I'm on Colonel O'Neill's team."

"Ah," Ducky nodded. "You must be the one who speaks many languages."

"Uh, yes. Twenty-three, actually."

"I'm impressed," Ducky said, looking at the linguist with admiration. "Archaeology and linguistics... an intriguing combination. Although it is possibly true that in order to truly understand archaeological findings one must at least have a fair understanding of the language as well," Ducky briefly glanced at the younger man, noting his reasoning was received with a certain enthusiasm that people got from finally being understood. "I studied archaeology, briefly, before I switched to become a medical examiner, but that was a long, long time ago."

He pointed at the body and explained, "To get back to your earlier question: yes, it is necessary. In order for me to determine the cause of death I have to be accurate. There are many possible causes for a young man's demise and I have to determine the correct one."

Daniel glanced back at the body of Lieutenant Makepeace. He'd experienced enough during his time with SG1 to recognize the way the younger brother of Colonel Makepeace had been treated. "In this case, torture would be a reasonable guess."

"It would, indeed," Ducky nodded, "but did he die as a result of one of the torture techniques, did his heart give out, was he strangled to death?"

"Hm, the result is all the same. He's dead." Daniel shrugged and brought a hand up to his face, pushing the glasses back on his nose.

"Duck?" Gibbs interrupted.

"Hm, yes, Jethro." Ducky turned his attention back to the case. "I have found something," motioning with his finger he indicated for the man to follow him as he stepped closer to the table. He grabbed the body's calf and turned it a bit, then pointed at the tattoo visible there.

Gibbs looked closer, and Daniel also bent forward.

"Semper Fi," Daniel read out loud.

"Yes, that's an expression used by Marines," Ducky started to explain.

"I know," Daniel nodded. There were plenty of Marines within the SGC, so he was familiar with their motto.

"Duck..." Gibbs sounded impatient.

"Well, look closer, Jethro," Ducky said shortly. He pulled the light above the table closer, took a magnifier from one of the side tables and handed it to Gibbs.

Gibbs took the magnifier and grimaced as he bent forward, the movement pulling on the stitches in his shoulder.

"Look at the F," Ducky instructed.

"Well I'll be..." Gibbs responded. He straightened his back and looked at the medical examiner.

Ducky gave him a wide smile. "What a clever man he was, wasn't he, Jethro?"

"What?" Daniel took the magnifier and also bent closer to take a look. "Ah," he said, "I see it now. The pole of the F is made of digits and letters."

"I think it is fair to say this is the code," Ducky said. "He didn't hide it anywhere. He had it with him the whole time." He took a piece of paper, where he'd written the code earlier, from the table and handed it to Gibbs.

"So this is the code?" Daniel asked with a surprised frown. "The one they want to trade Jack for?"

Gibbs nodded.

"But we aren't going to give them that, are we? I mean, Jack would never want them to have it," Daniel said, rambling. "Not that I don't want to get Jack back, I mean, I want him back, just had him back actually, but you know..." While he had seriously doubted Jack's motives during the undercover operation he'd been left out of only a little while ago it made him respond stronger in Jack's favor this time. The whole friendship foundation thing still needed some work but no way on Earth was he ever going to doubt Jack again. "Jack doesn't negotiate."

"Neither do we," Gibbs replied sternly, not unaware of the rambling, especially what was said between the lines. He didn't respond to it, though, knowing it wasn't his business and turned, heading for the door, the code in his hand and fully expecting Daniel to follow. "Thanks, Duck!"

---oo---oo---

NAVAL CRIMINAL INVESTIGATIVE SERVICE, WASHINGTON D.C.

"All right, what have we got?" Gibbs barked, walking into the bullpen with another coffee in his hand. Although he didn't show it, he smiled inwardly. It was always fun to see how his agents snapped to attention upon hearing his voice.

"Boss, we.."

"Boss.."

"Gibbs..."

He raised a hand in the air to silence them all then looked at the youngest member of his team. "McGee."

"Uhm, yes, Boss," McGee started, standing up straight. "Abby and I have been going over those video tapes from last night when Colonel O'Neill was taken away from your house." He quickly bent forward to type a command on his computer.

A few images from the video tapes came up on the big screen. It showed a white van passing the camera, all from different angles. McGee pointed at it. "We found this van, on several cameras near your house. Right here," he pointed out one of the pictures, "it's passing this ATM machine at 12:48. With the time stamps and locations on all those pictures, we've managed to plot their direction."

McGee stepped back to his desk and hit a few keys. This time, a map of the area appeared on the screen, a route marked on it with a solid thick red line. "We think they left your house at 12:44, following this route to get out. As you can see, we lost it here," Tim indicated at the screen. "From here, they could have gone either way, but most likely in this general direction."

"What do we know about the van?" Gibbs asked.

"It's a typical Dodge Caravan, built in 1998. We only got part of the license plate, it ends with 625. The images we have aren't very clear but we think it is either a West Virginia plate, or a Delaware one. We've narrowed it down to two possibilities."

"The first one," Tony took over, putting an image of said van on the screen along with the picture of its owner. "Is this one, belonging to this man, Dick Calvin. Forty-eight years old, working for AT&T, been working there since 1992. Lives in Morgantown, a town located eighty miles south of Pittsburgh along the West Virginia-Pennsylvania border. Married, two children, member of the local golf-club, and donator to the WWF."

Glancing at Kate, he added with a boyish smile, "That's the World Wrestling Federation, Kate."

She glanced back at him, her eyes wide as she wondered why on Earth somebody would donate money to wrestling.

Unaware of Tony's play, McGee looked up. "Actually, it's the World Wildlife Fund, Tony."

Kate rolled her eyes at Tony.

Tony threw an angry look at McGee for spoiling his fun. Slamming a key on his keyboard, he swapped images, showing another van and another man. "Then we have this one. The owner is Steven Robbs. Fifty-four years old. Single, lives in Wilmington, Delaware and works as a desk clerk for an insurance company. Plays basketball and coaches a bunch of kids. He drives them to the games with his van."

"Anything tying either of them to the Air Force?" Gibbs wanted to know.

"Nothing we could find."

"Major?" he asked, looking at Carter.

"I'll have to get access to a computer," she said, "then I'll see what I can find in USAF and NID databases."

"You can do that, later," Gibbs told her, "Abby will help you. McGee?" Gibbs turned to look back at the youngest man of his team.

Tim nodded in understanding. "Already put out a BOLO on both cars."

"Good job, McGee," Gibbs complimented the younger man then decided to share some information. "Ducky found the code on Lieutenant Makepeace's leg, hidden in a tattoo." He was aware of the surprised glances, but he didn't give anybody time to respond as he continued, "DiNozzo. Go and talk to Dick Calvin."

He thought for a split second. He knew he had been ordered to incorporate O'Neill's team in his investigation but he still felt responsible for their safety. He quickly decided that Daniel Jackson would be safest with his senior field agent, so he added, "Take Dr. Jackson with you."

"That's an awful long drive, boss," Tony started, with a whining voice.

Gibbs swung around, looking hard, saying nothing.

"Interviewing Dick Calvin, yes, boss," DiNozzo hastened to say as he jumped to his feet.

"Kate, McGee..."

"We'll go to Delaware and talk to Steven Robbs." Kate nodded, opening her drawer to get the car keys, her gun and badge.

"If needed, bring them back to NCIS. Vans too, so Abby can take a look at them!" Gibbs ordered, before turning around. He headed for the stairs, not waiting for his team to leave. He was already on the first step when he stopped briefly to look at Major Carter. "Are you waiting for an invitation, Major? With me..."

Carter looked from DiNozzo to Kate, her eyes wide in surprise at the way Gibbs ordered people around. DiNozzo flashed her a smile, and Kate merely shrugged.

"Guess I'll go with him, then," Carter muttered.

---oo---oo---