Emperor Xander
by Chaos_eternus
Thirty-Eight
"We've grabbed the guys watching Kendra and they have confirmed sighting Willow at 19:35, she appears to have been on profile at the time,"
"Understood," Xander replied, glancing across at the Intel officer, still wearing her US Air Force blues, albeit stripped of insignia beyond a simple name patch, "any signs they're involved in her disappearance?"
"No indications," she shrugged, "and I'm definitely inclined to believe them. They have also explained why they are in town and as soon as the situation with Willow is resolved, I strongly suggest you speak to them."
"Noted," he replied, "dismissed."
Nodding, and resisting the urge to salute the petite Asian officer walked away, and Giles stepped up swiftly into her place.
"A bit abrupt perhaps," he noted.
"Maybe," Xander shrugged in reply, "but its crisis time and this is when military training shows its best usually. She understands."
"Maybe, but maybe not," Giles frowned, "I understand you're worried, I'm worried too, but don't forget, these people who are here helping you and out there searching for Willow are breaking the law and they are doing so at your request.
They're carrying concealed without proper licenses because the paperwork hasn't been approved yet, they're carrying weapons which are not street legal, they're breaking traffic laws and they are intercepting police and military transmissions in the area."
Giles shook his head as he turned to walk away, "if the agreement with the government goes ahead fully, we may be able to do all that and more legally. At the moment however we're all risking prison sentences at your command and all of these people are volunteers. The least they deserve is a bit more respect and courtesy."
Xander frowned and after a few moments nodded his belated agreement, but Giles and the officer were gone.
"Definitely a major fight here,"
"Yes, but were the players?" Dinozzo asked, glancing around, camera raised.
"Well," McGee shrugged, his torch swiftly flicking around the site "that is why Gibbs volunteered us to divert down here, to find out."
"Not as if they could ask the local Leos," Dinozzo mused, glancing down then taking a careful step back. Leaning down, he took a shot with his camera before dumping a small yellow label on the floor, "shoe prints."
"Local Leos," McGee walked up carefully, "are a joke."
"Sheppard's working on it,"
"I know," McGee shook his head, eyes not leaving the prints, "but that'll take time and in the meantime…"
"Yeah," he stood back upright, "two sets. One small, almost abnormally so and the other a partial."
"Yes," McGee shot Dinozzo a look, "but a big partial and definitely military."
"Lot of weight too," he mused and then shook his head, "there's not enough of it to be sure."
Nodding reluctant agreement, McGee took a long careful look around the cemetery then paused, his eyes resting on one of the destroyed headstones.
"Cloth," he noted, walking across the grass.
Trotting up besides him, Dinozzo took a look then nodded, "recent break on the headstone too."
"Agreed," McGee replied, taking a step backwards for a moment as his partner snapped the cloth and the break, before reaching carefully forward, pulling the cloth off the ground with a set of tweezers.
"Manky and brown," he held it up to his nose, sniffing, his expression turning to disgust, "not somebody who washes to often either."
"Vagrant bystander or demon?"
"Not exactly our area of expertise," Dinozzo noted, "hell, battlefield analysis isn't exactly our specialty either."
"But we do crime scenes," McGee noted, his eyes following the suddenly upraised arm of his fellow agent, "interesting."
"I'll say," came the reply as Dinozzo walked swiftly across the ground towards what had once been a set of metal rails and was now twisted and bent like some abstract piece of modern art, "you don't think…"
McGee sighed, "It does look almost as if someone was thrown into the railings yes,"
"Takes a lot of force to twist metal like that," he kneeled down suddenly, reaching carefully forward. Then he withdrew his hand, grabbing the torch on his head and pointing it directly at a glimmering on the metal.
"Blood,"
"Yes, but whose?"
"Footprints," McGee noted, aiming his own torch at the ground, "one big and heavy set again."
" Willow most likely," Dinozzo noted, "looks as if she was moving under her own steam."
McGee's torch tacked between the railings and the footprints, "I think the bars must have been wrapped around her armour."
Aiming his torch at the railings, Dinozzo carefully counted then winced, "at least three of them may still be."
"Ouch," came the reply, the torch dropping to the prints once more "and toes are definitely dragging too."
"If it was Willow ," sighing, Dinozzo rose to his feet, "then she is definitely injured,"
Nodding, his partner reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone, tapping swiftly at the screen. After a few moments, he nodded grimly before sliding it back into his pocket.
"She was trying to head back to base,"
"Why didn't she radio?"
"Must have been damaged,"
Dinozzo nodded, conceding the point, "Probably, still don't know who won though."
"Or who she was fighting," McGee agreed, "Still, as you're senior field agent I believe it's your responsibility to update Mr Harris."
"What?" his eyes widened, "no way. As senior agent I designate the job to you probie."
"You just don't want to speak to the guy,"
"Yeah," Dinozzo replied, "that guy is almost as bad as Gibbs when one of us is down."
"Which is actually a recommendation," McGee noted, his torch swinging across the grounds once more.
"True, but you're not getting out of a simple call that easily probie."
He frowned, "hey Dinozzo."
"Yes?"
"If her radios damaged, that doesn't mean she wasn't able to get a transmission out at all,"
"Radio intercepts?" he asked.
"Possibly," McGee shrugged, "we know NSA have set-up a listening point to monitor Harris and his crew somewhere in the area but last time we were here Buffy was talking about having her armour modified to include a cellular phone."
Dinozzo smiled, clapping his friend on the shoulder, "make the call McGee."
Her perception of time was going, it had to be.
It felt like she had been in the building for hours yet she knew she had gone only twenty of so meters from the entrance.
Her vision was tinted, her eyes felt like they had been attacked with sandpaper and the incessant flickering of the light of her battered helmet switched between normal, enhanced, heat and night vision modes was making an already excruciating headache even worse.
But at least she was in the right building, she had to be.
Yet…
If that was the case, why hadn't a patrol come across her yet?
Surely she was making enough noise with all the tools she was knocking over, the dragging of her armoured feet on the floor, the times she had fallen over to get somebody's attention.
But nobody had appeared.
Still, she knew the building, she had the design memorised. It was only another 100 meters or so till she left the area under refit and got into parts of the building that were still in use.
She should be noticed quickly enough then.
Surely…