Disclaimer: NCIS and its characters do not belong to me and this story is not intended as an infringement of copyright. It has been written solely for entertainment and no profit has been made from its creation.
A/N:- Thanks for your patience and support. Two chapters to go after this one...I hope you enjoy them! L
MISTAKEN IDENTITY
Chapter 25
Ducky expected Tony to sleep for several hours so, with two Marines and "Pit-bull" Palmer standing guard outside his hospital room, Ducky and Gibbs returned to the Navy Yard. They were en-route when McGee called Gibbs to let him know that Matteo Lopez had called the burn phone of Customs official Brian Wallace. He had not left his name but he had left a message demanding that Wallace make himself available when he called back in two hours.
Gibbs pressed a little harder on the gas, keener than ever to apprehend the man who had been responsible for such a path of devastation. They arrived back in the bullpen and as they rounded the partition a revitalised Goth scientist greeted them.
"Ta-daa!" Abby exclaimed theatrically as she pointed to McGee. "Doesn't he look great, Gibbs?"
"Adorable," Gibbs said flatly.
He stood in front of the younger man and held him by the chin, turning his head from left to right as he examined his face for telltale signs of bruising.
"Good job, Abs."
"So…I can do it?" McGee asked hopefully.
Gibbs nodded reluctantly and refused the dark thoughts any further licence.
"I won't let you down, Boss."
"I know," Gibbs replied.
With the team gathered together, Ducky, gave them a quick run-down on Tony's condition before advising the results of the psychological profile he'd prepared on Matteo Lopez.
"Behaviour reflects personality," Ducky told them. "On the surface, Matteo Lopez is a very influential and successful businessman, a captain of industry, known as much for his business acumen as for his frequent appearances at A-list social functions. However, beneath the superficial veneer, is a virulent, heartless man who built his considerable wealth on the misfortune of others. This man has known great success and does not tolerate failure. Nor is he used to handling the seedier side of his affairs, when he can have others do his bidding. This is, no doubt, why he engaged the services of the unscrupulous Carlos Torres. He is controlling and domineering and when the weapon exchanges began to go wrong, he felt compelled to handle things himself. The execution style murder of Torres, in front of witnesses, is a significant example of how this man is starting to unravel. He is making critical mistakes and his behaviour is becoming more and more impetuous and reckless."
Gibbs turned to McGee. "Makes him dangerous as hell. If this gets away from you, or you don't think he's gonna go for it, you call it. We can always pick Lopez up at the airport. I don't want you taking unnecessary risks."
"You mean like running into a gun fight without a vest?" McGee replied gamely.
"You still channelling DiNozzo?"
"I figured Tony would have something to say about you risking yourself like that."
Gibbs shrugged. "Probably right," he said. "I'll be with the director."
As he started for the stairs he reached out with his right arm and gave McGee a firm head slap.
"If you're gonna act like DiNozzo, might as well have the full experience."
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Gibbs brought the director up to date with Tony's condition and the status of the case.
"You need back-up?"
Gibbs shook his head. "This needs to be done quietly. More people we take in the more chance of a wild shot causing the whole shipment to explode."
"I'll have the EOD standing by and an extra team to help process the crime scene," Vance said. "Lopez reportedly killed Torres in that house, there has to be some evidence we can use."
"EOD can secure and transport the weapons stockpile after we grab Lopez. I'll call it in when we have him. Right now, we're waiting for him to call back."
"You think he will?"
"He's got no choice if he wants those weapons," the lead agent stated.
As Gibbs moved toward the door, he was brought up short when the director called his name. He turned to see a bemused look on Vance's face.
"As director of a federal agency, I deal with bitching and complaining from other agencies all the time. I'm under no illusion that things aren't likely to change on that end. However, those complaints usually involve you or DiNozzo," he said staring at the sheet of paper in his hand. "I have to admit, I never expected to get one about Jimmy Palmer…this has to be a mistake, right?"
"Nope. Palmer was mixing it up with the boys from the Hoover Building…really pissed 'em off."
"What do you think I should do about it?"
"Witness protection program might be an option," Gibbs said with a quirky grin.
"I think I know just how to handle this," Vance said, placing the document in the shredder beside his desk.
Gibbs and Vance were concluding their meeting when the door to the office flew open and Ziva appeared.
"Excuse me, Director," she said a little breathlessly. "Matteo Lopez has just called Wallace's cell. He has arranged a meeting."
"He's early," Vance said.
"He's desperate," Gibbs replied.
"Good luck," Vance said as he watched the agents leave his office he sent up his usual silent prayer for a safe and rapid end to this case.
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Exigency compelled Lopez to call the burn phone issued to Customs officer Brian Wallace, for a second time - only this time McGee was waiting. The Salvadoran's voice was outwardly calm and confident but it was laced with a hint of desperation. He needed to get the stockpile of weapons into a container and onto a freighter leaving for El Salvador in two days. Although he had the money, he no longer had the manpower and with Carlos Torres dead his "conduit" to the type of people he needed for the job had been severed.
McGee told Lopez that he could put together a team and arrange transportation – but as it was extremely short notice – the job was going to cost fifty thousand dollars, paid in full, upfront. Lopez arranged a meeting at 1500 at the old boarding house that Lopez' men had used as their base.
Ten minutes prior to the scheduled meeting, Gibbs parked in an alley, half a block from the boarding house. As he, Ziva and McGee climbed from the non-agency issued car, Gibbs reminded his agents that the garage was packed with COL weapons, ammo and explosives but also the final shipment of inferior, highly volatile explosives.
"Whatever happens – do not fire into the garage," he instructed.
They donned their Kevlars and checked their weapons and com-links. Gibbs turned to McGee, noting the younger man was looking slightly anxious.
"You alright?"
"I'm fine, Boss."
"Don't take any chances. If it looks like he's not going to pay you upfront, don't push it. You're supposed to be a customs officer not a career criminal, you argue the point too much and you'll tip him off."
"Right," McGee nodded.
"Watch your six," Gibbs said as he checked his watch and handed McGee the keys to the vehicle. "Give us five minutes to get into position."
He slapped the younger man's shoulder and watched as McGee drove the car out of the alley and down the street out of sight.
Ziva and Gibbs found cover either side of the boarding house with a clear view to the large six-car garage that housed the cache of weapons. At precisely 1500, McGee guided the car into the small square compound between the house and the garage. Leaving the vehicle, he walked into the clearing, waiting for Lopez to arrive – thirty minutes later he was still waiting.
"He's not gonna show, Boss," McGee spoke into his com-link.
"He'll show," came the reply. "He's out of men and out of time. If he wants to ship these weapons, he'll be here."
Ten more minutes passed before Ziva's voice was heard through their earwigs.
"Dark sedan turning into the driveway. Sighting of Matteo Lopez is confirmed – he appears to be alone." She picked up her camera, focussing on Lopez and adjusting the shutter speed to allow her to take multiple frame-by-frame photos.
Parking his car on the opposite side of the compound from McGee's, Matteo Lopez walked confidently to where McGee stood waiting.
"Thought you'd changed your mind," McGee told the older man who arrogantly brushed aside the comment as well as McGee's proffered hand.
Once again, the two men discussed the transportation of the weapons and McGee asked to see the size of the shipment. Lopez removed three heavy-duty padlocks from one of the garage doors and lifted it, revealing hundreds of crates of all sizes, containing weapons and explosives.
McGee made a show of walking into the garage, purportedly estimating the size of the truck and the number of men required to load it and transport it to the Norfolk shipping yard.
"We're taking a huge risk," he said. "It's not going to be easy getting the shipment to the docks then falsifying the clearance certificates."
"Can you do it?" Lopez demanded.
"I can do it, but the men I deal with will expect to be well paid. Do you have the money?"
Lopez stared at the young man before him and, for a moment, McGee thought he was going to refuse. He breathed a sigh of relief when the older man reached into his coat pocket and handed McGee two stacks of cash.
"This is only twenty thousand," McGee said. "The deal was for fifty."
"Twenty thousand now and thirty on delivery," Lopez stated, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
McGee was about to protest when Gibbs' voice sounded through his earwig. "Easy, McGee, don't push it."
"Okay, thirty on delivery," he agreed.
"Photo evidence is secured." McGee heard Ziva confirm. Taking a deep breath, McGee pocketed the cash and withdrew his weapon and badge from inside his jacket.
"Matteo Lopez, you are under arrest for…"
The sentence was never finished as Lopez, driven by rage and desperation, lunged forward and made a grab for McGee's gun. As they struggled for the weapon, Lopez struck McGee a painful blow to the face with the point of his elbow and forced the gun from his grasp. He stepped away from the young agent, taking aim at his head when Gibbs fired off a round from the right side of the house. Pain ripped through the older man's arm causing him to drop the gun and stagger blindly into the garage.
With blood flowing from his nose and split lip, McGee snatched his spare weapon from his ankle holster and scrambled to take cover behind his vehicle.
"Hold your fire!" Gibbs directed his agents, knowing that a wild shot could trigger a mammoth explosion.
"Don't be a fool, Lopez, you've got nowhere to go," Gibbs yelled.
Ignoring the pain in his arm, Lopez prised open a crate and removed two grenades.
As he walked to the door of the garage, he pulled the pin from one, holding the safety lever firmly in place.
"Come out where I can see you," he yelled, "or this grenade will join your man under that car."
Gibbs blood ran cold as he realised that McGee was an easy target. He nodded to Ziva and they both walked cautiously into the open, their weapons still trained on Lopez' head.
"Gibbs, I have a shot," Ziva said, her voice sounding calm and composed through the earwig.
"He's too close to the ordnance. He drops that grenade and the whole lot could go up," Gibbs replied. "Hold your fire, let's see where this goes."
Lopez took a few slow steps into the compound, walking in the direction of his car and still brandishing a grenade in either hand.
"Drop your weapons!" he yelled. "Do it or your man dies!"
The reality of that statement caused the agents to lay down their weapons and step away, knowing that there was nothing more dangerous and unpredictable than a man with nothing to lose.
Lopez' eyes darted around the compound, looking for signs of other agents. Seeing none, he began to move slowly toward his car. He had just three yards to cover when the grenade unexpectedly exploded, triggering the second one and engulfing his body in a fatal eruption of sound, heat and energy.
The three agents threw themselves to the ground, instinctively protecting themselves from shrapnel and the possibility that the grenade's detonation might set off a chain reaction of the other volatile explosives in the garage.
An agonisingly long moment elapsed and when it appeared the cache of weapons and explosives in the garage were secure, the agents climbed cautiously to their feet.
Gibbs did a quick visual of his agents, ensuring with an appraising glance that they were unharmed. They approached the bloodied and hideously disfigured body of Matteo Lopez.
"He did not release the safety lever," Ziva said.
"Then, what was it?" McGee asked. "Malfunction?"
"Justice," Gibbs replied flatly.
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A team of Navy Explosive Ordnance Disposal technicians met Gibbs at the boarding house to secure, inventory and transport the weapons and explosives. A short time later, another investigative team arrived to assist with processing the large crime scene. Ducky and his FBI counterpart collected the remains of Matteo Lopez and had returned to the Navy Yard to perform, what was certain to be, a time-consuming and complex autopsy.
Using the portable UV lights, the agents found traces of a large bloodstain on the floor in one of the bedrooms, just as Salinas had described. They collected samples for analysis but were confident the blood belonged to Carlos Torres.
Special Agent Jackson had been lifting prints and searching Lopez' car when he popped the trunk and located a plastic trash bag. Checking inside he located an expensive looking camel cashmere overcoat badly stained with blood. He immediately bagged it for forensic testing.
They had just started to pack up their gear when Gibbs answered his cell to a frantic Jimmy Palmer.
"What? Palmer, calm down!" Gibbs ordered gruffly. "Say again – slowly!"
The urgency in Gibbs' voice immediately had Ziva and McGee at his side. They watched as the lead agent's jaw clenched and his knuckles turned white as his grip on the cell tightened.
"I'm on my way!" Gibbs said, snapping the cell closed and disconnecting the call.
"Boss?"
"Caldwell's got a warrant for DiNozzo's arrest," he answered over his shoulder as he jogged toward his vehicle. "Bastard's trying to have him moved to a federal prison."
The younger agents ran to catch up and Gibbs pulled them up short.
"I need you both to finish up here. Get that evidence to Abby and tell her what's going on. We're outta time – we've got to clear DiNozzo now!"
Ziva and McGee reluctantly changed direction and returned to the crime scene. They collected and sealed a large evidence box containing various "bagged and tagged" items for Abby to process and then returned to the Navy Yard.
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Gibbs negotiated the light traffic with one hand on the wheel as he pressed the speed-dial on his cell.
"What the hell is going on, Tobias?" Gibbs said harshly.
"I just found out about this myself, Gibbs, but I can tell you - this wasn't ordered by the FBI," Fornell responded.
"Then why the hell is Caldwell trying to take my agent into custody?"
"Because the son of a bitch went over Director Timmins' head again. I told you, he's got a lot of pull and the political backing of Senator Tom Barnaby."
The cell was in danger of imploding from the strength of the lead agent's grip as Fornell continued.
"Jethro…the order came from the Attorney General's office. Caldwell's moving DiNozzo tonight."
"The hell he is!"
"The paperwork has been signed off by the Deputy Attorney General…DiNozzo is to be transferred by helicopter to the infirmary of USP Lee to await a hearing."
"USP Lee is a maximum security prison!"
"I know…Jethro, I'm sorry. I'll do what I can but it won't be much."
Arriving at Bethesda fifteen minutes later, Gibbs ignored the sharp pain in his knee as he gave up on the slow moving elevators and took the stairs two at a time. He burst into the waiting area near Tony's room and saw Caldwell arguing with Commander Fenner.
"I don't care if you have Marine One waiting on the heliport, Agent DiNozzo is my patient and I'm telling you that he's not well enough for a flight!" Fenner said angrily.
"They brought him here by helicopter," Caldwell replied curtly.
"And since then he has had extensive surgery of his shoulder and a surgical procedure on his brain. He is not stable enough to be airlifted."
"I have the authority to remove DiNozzo from this facility tonight," Caldwell blustered.
"You'll have to get past me first," Gibbs' voice sounded from behind.
Caldwell turned to see the fierce intent in the former Marine's eyes and body language and, instinctively, took a step back.
"Before you say anything, Gibbs, I have a warrant for the arrest of Anthony DiNozzo."
"This is a witch-hunt, Caldwell, and you know it. Tony didn't shoot those agents," Gibbs stated emphatically.
"Can you prove that, Agent Gibbs?"
"It's not up to me to prove he's innocent, it's up to you to prove he's guilty and you haven't done that."
"The DA feels we have enough to hold DiNozzo for suspicion of the murders of FBI Agent Higgins, Carlos Torres and the attempted murder of FBI Agent Cole," Caldwell replied smugly. "He murdered two men in cold blood, Gibbs, possibly three if Cole doesn't make it!"
"Your own damn forensic scientist confirmed that there were two other sets of glove prints on DiNozzo's weapon. And he didn't even fire his gun at the COL warehouse a few days later. Does that sound like some crazed gunman who's running around shooting people?"
"Maybe he couldn't get a look at their backs!" Caldwell sniped.
Gibbs fought with everything he had to extinguish the flame of fury burning within him before it became a raging inferno.
"We believe we can prove that Matteo Lopez killed Torres. Evidence is being processed right now."
"Evidence from where?" Caldwell challenged.
"We found Lopez and the stockpile of weapons."
"Why weren't we informed? This is still supposed to be a joint operation, Gibbs!"
"This stopped being a joint operation when you ordered your sniper to shoot my agent!" Gibbs hissed.
"Gentlemen, please!" Commander Fenner said. "The fact of the matter is that my patient has sustained a serious head trauma, including a subdural haematoma. He is not yet stable enough to go anywhere. I am willing to debate that point with any doctor you choose but I will not argue the point with you, Agent Caldwell."
Anticipating resistance Caldwell handed the doctor the business card of an FBI approved neurologist and a folded document.
"That is a subpoena for you to forward copies of DiNozzo's medical file to Doctor Miller. If he agrees with your assessment, we will delay transferring him until tomorrow and will move him by prisoner transport vehicle. If you don't forward copies of the file within the hour, there will be serious consequences."
They watched the FBI agent speak briefly with his men who were left to continue their standoff with the Marines and then he stalked arrogantly into the corridor and out of sight.
Gibbs cocked his thumb toward Tony's closed door.
"How is he?"
"He didn't need this mess, that's for sure," the doctor said. "By the time the nurse alerted me and I got to the room, Caldwell was already reading him his rights and trying to handcuff him to the bed."
"Damn," Gibbs cursed softly.
"He said he was fine but his pulse was racing, his blood pressure spiked and I know he's still in a lot of pain."
"You give him something?"
"I tried to. He refused any kind of pain medication," the doctor said with a look of frustration that Gibbs had worn many times since meeting the ex-detective. "He said he needs to stay awake so he can remember what happened."
"Ducky said those memories may never return," Gibbs stated.
"That's right, but he's determined to push himself. All he's doing is causing unnecessary pain."
Gibbs nodded then looked around the room again.
"Where's Palmer?"
"I asked him to sit with Tony for awhile, thought he could use a friendly face," Fenner said. "I need to prepare Tony's file. I'm fairly certain I can delay his transfer until tomorrow. Have the duty nurse page me if you need me."
Gibbs opened the door to Tony's room, waiting until his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. The younger man was propped up in the bed, his eyes were closed and his long dark lashes appeared as smudges against his too pale skin. The rigidity in his body and the short breaths being forced through his partly opened mouth, told Gibbs his agent was awake and in pain.
Palmer rose from the chair beside the bed and they quietly stepped outside the room.
"I'm sorry Agent Gibbs," the young ME assistant said. "I tried to stop Caldwell from getting to Tony but he threatened to have me arrested for impeding a federal agent in the performance of his duty…he couldn't really do that, could he? I mean… it's just that…I'm not the kind of guy who would do very well in prison. I could end up being someone's pet…"
Gibbs silenced the young man with a withering look.
"I'm sorry…that's so not important right now," Palmer mumbled.
"He said anything?" Gibbs asked, watching Tony intently through the half closed door.
"He's hardly uttered a word," Palmer replied, concern etched across his young face. "Caldwell's convinced him that he killed those agents. I thought I could get him to talk to me but he's completely shut me out."
"Not your fault, Palmer."
Gibbs walked back into the room and stood by his agent's bedside. Signs of pain were apparent on Tony's face, the small furrows along his forehead and the tightness around his lips. His left shoulder was still heavily bandaged, the arm strapped firmly across his chest. The fingers of his right hand were still wrapped protectively around the button of the morphine pump, preventing anyone from pressing it and providing the much needed pain relief.
"You heard?" Tony whispered, his eyes were still closed but he sensed his boss' presence. "USP Lee."
"Not gonna happen," Gibbs replied.
Tony opened eyes that were glassy with pain. "Caldwell has an arrest warrant with my name on it that disagrees with you, Boss…and we've got nothing to prove he's wrong."
Gibbs watched helplessly as his agent's long-constructed emotional shields threatened to crumble at any minute.
"Tony…listen to me…you did not shoot those agents."
"I wanna believe that," the younger man whispered.
"Then do it…believe it."
He watched as Tony's expression closed down and he turned his face away, a clear indication that he was not prepared to discuss the matter any further and one that brought a silent curse of frustration to Gibbs' lips.
DiNozzo was a cop, through and through. Astute and intuitive, he relied on his gut almost as often as the lead agent himself. But the loss of those vital memories and the realisation that he left McGee at that warehouse to be killed, had shaken his self-belief to its very core.
Callused fingers turned the younger man's face back to meet the former Marine's determined gaze.
"Believe it!"
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McGee and Abby anxiously paced back and forth across the floor in the forensics lab.
Their separate routes intersected between Abby's computer workbench and her refrigeration unit and, each time, they exchanged an exasperated sigh or an antsy "what's taking so long?"
Gibbs had returned from the hospital as incensed as they could ever remember seeing him. He silenced their questions with a brusque wave of his hand and told them he'd meet him in the forensics lab as soon as he'd spoken with the director.
Unable to contain themselves, they called Palmer to see what had happened to get the lead agent so fired up. That was forty minutes ago and they were now in danger of wearing a groove in the floor. Their paths intersected again and McGee pulled Abby into a fierce hug.
"This is so not right!" Abby exclaimed.
"I know they called it a red light in the sexual harassment seminar but I thought you were okay with hugs, Abs?" McGee answered, receiving a punch in the shoulder for his trouble.
"Not the hug, silly, what they're trying to do to Tony! He can't go to jail, McGee, he's innocent and he's really sick and he should be in the hospital!"
"USP Lee has a prison infirmary, Abs," McGee replied absently as Abby curled her fingers into a fist and landed another punch to McGee's shoulder.
"Ow! Right…so not the point," he said apologetically.
"USP Lee is a maximum security federal penitentiary, McGee! Tony probably put some of those guys in there. He'll be like fresh fish!"
"That's fresh meat, Abs and I'm sure they'll keep him in solitary confinement."
This time he caught the fist in mid-air as it targeted his bruised shoulder once again.
"Okay, okay, I missed the point again! Look, Abs, don't worry, I'm sure Gibbs and the director are straightening this whole thing out right now."
Ziva rushed breathlessly into the lab. Äny news?" she said.
"Gibbs is still with the director," Abby replied sullenly.
"I do not understand how this can happen!" Ziva exclaimed. "I have just spent many nights studying the Constitution and Bill of Rights…what happened to the presumption of Tony's innocence until proven guilty?"
"Actually, Ziva, innocent until proven guilty, is not in the Constitution, as such," McGee corrected. "The concept is embodied in several provisions of the Constitution, however, such as... the right to remain silent and the right to a jury and…Ow!"
McGee rubbed the pain from his embattled shoulder after Ziva landed a telling blow.
"Sorry…I guess I'm just worried about Tony," he explained, receiving the evil eye from Abby and Ziva. "I'm gonna go practise my right to remain silent on the other side of the room… where it's safe."
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Ten minutes later, Gibbs strode into the lab wearing a frustrated expression and looking like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"Gibbs?" Abby asked tremulously. "Please tell us that Tony isn't going to jail?"
Gibbs scrubbed his hands over tired eyes and exhaled loudly.
"Tony's doctor has convinced the FBI medical expert that, due to his head injury, Tony won't be fit to fly for two to three weeks."
"So, they will not be taking him to USP Lee tonight," Ziva said, her voice coloured by relief.
"The director has been able to call in a few favours and the Attorney General has agreed to remand Tony to the infirmary wing of the Central Detention Facility here in DC as of zero eight hundred tomorrow."
No sooner had he finished speaking than he found himself with an armful of distressed Goth.
"No! They can't do that Gibbs! It's not right, Tony is innocent!" she cried.
"I know, Abs…I know."
"Tony will be devastated," Ziva said. "Someone should be with him, yes?"
"Ducky and Palmer are with him."
"There is no actual proof that Tony shot anyone!" Ziva stated. "How can the Attorney General make such a decision?"
"Decision was based on the weight of circumstantial evidence – Tony's gun, his prints, his proficiency with a handgun, the cash found on his person and the fact that he was leading the raid at COL with plans and blueprints he provided."
"You gotta admit, it's pretty incriminating," McGee said, this time receiving a head slap from the former Marine. "Incriminating for anybody other than Tony, that is...sorry, Boss."
Heavy silence fell over the lab as they took a moment to gather their resolve.
"What can we do?" McGee asked.
"We do our jobs, we go over every report every crime scene photo, every piece of evidence again and again until we find something to clear Tony and we start right now…whatcha got, Abs?"
Taking a deep breath, Abby composed herself and reported her findings.
"I have fabric prints," she said.
"You matched the gloves?"
"Unfortunately, Lopez was wearing his when the grenades he was holding went kaflooey so, as you can imagine, there wasn't enough left of those bad boys to make a comparison," Abby replied.
"Damn," Gibbs muttered.
"Wait Gibbs, I'm not done yet," Abby said. " Prior to the explosion that killed him, Lopez made a grab for McGee's gun and also paid McGee twenty thousand dollars cash. The fabric prints he left on McGee's gun and the cash straps, match perfectly with prints found on Tony's gun and the money given to Tony."
Abby moved to a large evidence bag containing a camel coloured overcoat.
"Agent Jackson found this bloodstained overcoat in the trunk of Matteo Lopez' car," Abby said. "Although it was highly probable that the coat belonged to Lopez, Norman and I matched Lopez' DNA to two sources extracted from the coat."
"Where is Norman?" McGee asked.
"He got called back to the Hoover Building."
"Abby, you said you had two sources for DNA comparison?" Ziva asked.
"Yep. Hair follicles and stratum corneum, which is the top layer of the epidermis."
"You mean skin," McGee said.
"That's what I said, Timmy, you really need to listen more," Abby scolded. "So, we have a positive DNA match proving that Lopez owned this overcoat."
"What next?" Gibbs prompted.
"Okay, moving on…the blood on the overcoat matches Carlos Torres type and DNA and the blood pattern and the gunpowder residue on the right sleeve in particular, is consistent with someone standing in close proximity to the victim and firing a gun directly into the back of Torres' skull. We can match Lopez' prints to the murder weapon and the blood pattern and gunpowder residue to the overcoat he was wearing at the time - Matteo Lopez definitely killed Carlos Torres."
"Salinas was telling the truth," McGee said.
"Clears Tony for the murder of Torres but we still have to find something that clears him of shooting of Higgins and Cole," Gibbs said.
"What if there is nothing to find?" Ziva asked.
"Then, at zero eight hundred tomorrow," Gibbs stated. "DiNozzo goes to jail."
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A/N:- Thanks for your great support and very kind reviews and alerts, L