AN: These chapters just get longer and longer. This is the biggest one yet, but it has some some stuff I think a lot of you have been waiting for. ;) After this, just three chapters to go! Enjoy!
Chapter 47
Friday passed too quickly as the team, Fornell, and Sacks tried to run down leads. Tim felt like his fingers were overheating almost as fast as his computer as he ran trace after trace on cell numbers trying to pin down anybody who had been part of all of the drops. With more than four dozen dates to check in two different locations, he contemplated asking Gibbs if he could tap into MTAC to run the searches.
"Hey, Tim, take a break."
He looked up to see Tony sitting on the edge of his desk, two cups of coffee in hand. The senior agent offered one to him. "One latte with two extra shots of espresso. I figured you needed the kick."
Tim smiled as he took the cup and sipped. "Thanks, Tony. I just wish I could do this more quickly. I know tonight's plan will probably work, but I'm not sure..." His voice trailed off.
"That you want your parents in the line of fire?"
Tim nodded. "Yeah. They did great yesterday, and my dad's been under fire before — kind of goes with the territory, but not since I was a kid. And you don't really get it then. You just hate that he's at sea, not at home. You don't think about what he's doing." He rubbed the back of his neck. "And he's sick, and I know it has to be bad. So if I can find the key to this and not have to bring them into it, I want to. I'm just not fast enough."
Tony set down his coffee and dropped to a crouch, looking up at Tim and resting his hands on the other man's knees. "Hey. You're doing this a million times faster than anybody else could. I worked a serial case back in Philly, and we took two weeks longer than this to make half as much progress. Some of that is because cell phones and GPS make it easier, but you still have to know how to pull the pieces together to tell a story. And you do that better and faster than anybody I know. It's like... You know how sometimes Gibbs and I get these insights, where it just clicks what must have happened? And then we know where we're going, and we can find the proof to back it up?"
Tim nodded. "Gibbs' gut. That's instinct. All I have are lots of McFacts." He could hear the bitterness in his own voice.
Tony must have as well, because he rose up slightly so he could reach back and gently head-slap him. "Stop knocking yourself, Tim. You do the same thing, just in a different way. I don't know anybody who can take less and build it up fact by fact to find a solution. Sure, I can do it with people. I know what makes them tick. But in a case like this, where we don't know who we're dealing with or even what they're doing, there are no people to read. But you can take all these hundreds of pieces of information and put them together and just seem to know how to kick the computer to give us the answers we need. Answers that have to come before we can find the people, so then I can start getting in their heads."
Tim looked down, fixing his eyes on Tony. "Thanks. I needed that." He hesitated. "I know I'm not the computer geek, or at least not just the computer geek. And I know we need my geekiness. It's just sometimes I forget that the geekiness can be as important as the gunfighting."
"That's my McGenius," Tony said, pushing his hands into his thighs and standing, knees popping. "Come on, take a break for a bit. Go see Abby or something."
"Yeah, about Abby..."
Tony crossed his arms and leaned back against the cubicle divider. "Has our goth mistress figured it out?"
Tim shook his head. "You'd think Mom hugging you yesterday would have tipped her off, but she was packing up the gear. And I don't think she noticed, because she would have announced it to the whole Navy Yard. But I really think I need to say something to her. At this point everybody else, except maybe Vance, knows. She'll be really upset if she thinks we're deliberately keeping this from her."
Tony nodded. "And something Gibbs said yesterday made me think Vance knows, or at least suspects. I think he might be deliberately looking the other way so he has plausible deniability if someone makes a fuss about us working on the same team. It's one thing to say he's going to review it if somebody files a complaint. It's another to say he knew and didn't do anything about it if the bureaucrats rule against us staying on the team together. Not exactly a good thing career-wise for him. I'd be a little ticked he's in cover-your-ass mode, but if he's OK enough to look the other way unless forced, I'd rather him in charge of the agency than SecNav replacing him with somebody who would split us up without a second thought."
"Definitely time for me to clue Abby in then," Tim said. "I'll go down now and while I'm there, I'll see if she's got anything off the evidence Fornell and Ziva brought back from the drop sites yesterday that might help us narrow things down. Can you keep an eye on my computer? I've got all the searches cued up, I just can't run anymore until some of the ones I have going finish."
Tony grinned at Tim's intentional slight of Sacks and his role in gathering evidence from the drop sites. "When they ping, I'll start the next one," Tony promised. "And Tim? Good luck."
"Thanks."
With that, he headed down to the lab, a trip he'd made a million times in his years at NCIS. The only time he had felt this much reluctance, though, was after he'd killed Benedict and he went down to see if Abby had been able to tell if he or the bent cop had fired the kill shot.
He walked in to find Abby bent over Major Mass Spec's results screen.
"What ya got, Abbs?" he asked.
"Timmy," she said. "You don't do a good Gibbs. You're not abrupt enough."
"I did sneak up on you, though," he said.
"True," she admitted. "Has he been giving you sneaky lessons? No, wait. It must be living with Tony. His undercover skills are rubbing off on you."
Tim snorted. Could he have asked for a better lead in? "Yeah, Abbs, about that."
But before he could say anything, two different computers started dinging.
"Whoa!" she said as she stretched her head one way as her legs walked the other, trying to check screens on different sides of the room at once.
"A lead?" Tim asked, walking over to the workstation in the middle of the room to check the DNA results that had popped up. "Abbs, we've got a hit on a... Oh, this is not good."
"Timmy?"
He pulled out his cell and pressed the speed dial for Gibbs.
"Boss? Get down to the lab. Bring Ziva and get Tony on the web cam. I think I know what we're investigating, and who."
"McGee! What's going on?"
"Abbs, look." He pointed at the rap sheet for Matthew Ringpolle.
She started reading, and the more she read, the paler her already fair skin got. "You're right, this is not good." She dashed back to the screen where Major Mass Spec's results were waiting. "I'm pulling up the USGS soils database. There has to be a way to narrow this down."
"Narrow what down?" Gibbs asked as he walked in, Ziva on his heels.
"Yeah, fill us in McFrantic, Abbs," came Tony's voice from the webcam.
Tim sent Ringpolle's rap sheet to the plasma. "His DNA was found at the scene of one of the drop sites. Just a hair snagged on a rough board in the doorframe of the place north of Silver Spring. He was in prison in Mississippi until six months ago when he finished his term for running a human sex trafficking ring."
"Well, shit." Tony's voice was loud in the room. Ziva was cursing softly in Hebrew, and Gibbs stared at the plasma as if he could incinerate Ringpolle just by glaring at his mug shot.
"Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs!" Abby was practically bouncing in the corner. "I think I might know where he is! There was an odd mix of clay and sandy soils at both scenes, just traces. The sand was pressed into the clay, like a car had gotten its treads clogged with clay, then rolled over sand. I cross-referenced the soil types and -"
"Abbs. Bottom line?"
She stuck out her lower lip. "You're no fun, Gibbs. Bottom line is that there are only a few ways a car could have picked up the clay first, then the sand, and made it to both crime scenes. Those soil types usually aren't found near each other, and to get both of them in the same order means there's a good chance they're near Ringpolle's home base. If we assume that home base is between the two drop sites, there are only a handful of possibilities."
Tim started nodding. "And by limiting it to a couple of locations and a name, I can probably use the cell calls we've been tracking to narrow it down to just one."
"How long?"
Tim frowned. "Five, maybe six hours? It will only take a few minutes to set the search parameters, but pulling the information will take longer."
Gibbs looked at his watch. "We won't get it before we need to head to Annapolis." He frowned. "Abbs, you stay here and keep an eye on the searches for McGee. I'll talk to Vance and Fornell, see if we can get a couple of teams ready to head out once Abby has results. Balboa's team is good, and I'm sure Fornell can come up with one. They can focus on getting this bastard. We need to figure out who killed Murchinson."
The team headed out, leaving Abby to continue processing the evidence and to find more links between Ringpolle and the crimes.
Upstairs, Tim set the searches to run on his computer, while Tony and Gibbs headed to Vance's office to brief him.
"David, find Fornell and Sacks and fill them in," Gibbs said as he walked out of the bullpen. "Then check to make sure we have all the gear loaded for tonight."
Before Tim knew it, they were on the road to Annapolis. He and Tony drove the surveillance van, while Gibbs and Ziva followed in one sedan, Fornell and Sacks in another.
Tim and Tony led the way since they were meeting the McGees at their house, but he let Tony drive, so Gibbs didn't blow a fuse. Not that Tony was nearly as crazy behind the wheel as either Gibbs or Ziva, but he was much less cautious than Tim.
Later as they waited for somebody to seat them, Ziva slowly scanned the room, giving Gibbs a look at the layout.
"Good work, David. McGee, focus on faces. Give us long enough to isolate and freeze frame for facial recognition."
"Thank you for inviting me along, Eileen," Ziva said. "I was excited when Tim told me that Tony was going to be performing tonight."
"Not at all, Ziva. It's a pleasure to have you." Eileen reached up as if she was going to fiddle with her necklace, then dropped her hand.
"McGee, party of four?" said the host. "If you will follow me?"
Ziva allowed her eyes to widen in appreciation of the deep blues and greens on the walls. Dark wood and brown leather furniture anchored the room, while subdued lighting in blown glass and bronze walls sconces cast patterns on the abstract swirls in the carpeting. The room was dim enough to feel like a club, but not at all dark or gloomy. As they were seated at a table, Ziva motioned for Eileen to go ahead of her. The seat would give the pendantcam the best view of the room. With McGee sitting across from her, they could cover most of the room without obviously turning their heads. Only Sean had a limited view.
"See anybody you know?" McGee asked his parents.
Before either one could answer, the server came over to take their drink orders. He was about McGee's age, but shorter and stockier, with blond hair and light-colored eyes.
"Sacks. Isolate and freeze frame."
"Evening, Mr. and Mrs. McGee," he said. "How are you tonight?"
"Fine, thanks," Sean said. "Looking forward to seeing the show."
"You're in for a treat," he said. "I heard this guy, Tony, practicing earlier. He's good. I'm surprised we haven't booked him before."
"Gibbs, his name's John Collins. Started here two months ago, right around the time the manager did."
"Tony. Keep an eye on him. You too, David, McGee."
"He is good," Tim said. "Tony's my roommate. When he told me he'd gotten this gig, Ziva and I figured we'd come up and treat my parents to a night out."
"Good to know," Collins said.
Ziva smiled as they all ordered the same thing as they had during the practice run the day before.
"I'll be right back with those drinks."
As he turned to leave, Ziva said, "It is crowded already. I did not expect things to start jumping this early."
"Hopping, Ziva," Tim said.
"Thanks for keeping our ninja's English on track, McDictionary. I'm about to take the stage."
Ziva bit the inside of her lip to keep from laughing. "Thank you, Tim. Sean, Tim said you come here a lot. Are there many regulars here?"
Sean shifted his chair more toward Ziva so he could turn slightly and scan the room. She let out an invisible sigh of relief that he was able to make it look like he was just moving to get a better view of the stage.
"The Wilsons are sitting over by the fireplace," he said. "Jane Wilson teaches in the engineering department at the Academy and plays basketball with Eileen." Ziva looked over, holding her gaze long enough for Sacks to get a good shot.
"She's got a mean three-pointer, but I can usually shut her down in the paint," Eileen said.
"Mom, Tony's the only person you've not been able to get the best of under the basket," Tim said.
"DiNozzo's a man of many talents."
"Sacks, shut up and run the software."
"Yeah, Sacks. Shut up and prepare to be amazed."
Ziva couldn't look at Tim. He was either going to want to head-slap Sacks, for which she could not blame him in the least, or he would be laughing at Tony's quick comeback.
In the van, Gibbs smacked the back of Sacks' head as Fornell told him to shut up. Gibbs' lips quirked up at Tony's retort.
Before he could say anything else, they could hear the manager talking to Tony.
"OK, DiNozzo. You're up. First set's 90 minutes, then you get a break before the second set. We'll have food ready for you."
"Thanks, Keith. Nothing heavy, weighs me down too much when I'm performing. And keep the water coming."
He watched as Tony's camera fed the scene on the monitor as he walked through the back of the club to emerge near the small, raised stage at the front of the room. Sacks was running the manager's face through facial recognition.
"Gibbs, you found anything yet?"
"Not yet, Leon," he said. "Collins is a possibility, guy waiting on the McGees. Sacks is running-"
"No hits on the manager," the FBI agent said. "Vance, is Scuito still at NCIS? Can she run his cell records, see if there are any links between him and Ringpolle?"
"She's here. Still waiting on the results from McGee's searches. I'll get her on it."
Gibbs watched on the monitors as Tony took the stage. He looked the room over carefully, eyes tracking slowly. Gibbs joined Sacks and Fornell in isolating faces for the recognition software. With four video feeds going, they needed every pair of hands they could get.
"Leon, you got any techs who can help us out?"
"You're the only op running tonight, Gibbs. I'll have them handle the feeds from DiNozzo and David. You three take care of the feeds from McGee and his mother."
"Welcome to Bitter Blues, ladies and gentlemen. Especially you lovely ladies out there. I'm Tony and I'm looking forward to tonight. It'll be mostly my own work, but if you've got a blues classic you want to hear, just let me know and if I can help you out, I will."
His fingers started pulling a tune from the grand piano on stage, and Gibbs fought the shiver that ran up his spine at the memory of the last time he'd heard Tony play on the beat-up old upright in his den.
"It's nice to see so many people so early on a Friday night. I didn't think we'd have a big crowd until later. I see a few familiar faces out there. And a few I'd like to get to know better." His video feed focused on a group of women sitting two tables over from Ziva and the McGees. "Maybe during the break, I can buy a few of you a drink. But first, I'll have to earn it." Tony started playing louder, the music an aching wave of sound. Before many minutes had passed, at least one woman in the group near the McGees was wiping her eyes.
"How does he do that?" Sacks hissed. "Knowing DiNozzo, he's going to walk out of this op with a handful of numbers from those women in the back."
Gibbs reached over and smacked the FBI agent again.
"Ouch! Gibbs!"
"Tony is really good, Tim. His music almost makes my heart hurt."
"I know, Mom. You're not the only one. A couple of the women over there are already crying. They should wait until he really gets rolling. Good thing their server is taking them some extra napkins. Tony's going to make a couple of new conquests tonight."
Gibbs watched Eileen's feed, but McGee's face was fine. He was even smirking, and Gibbs had a feeling McGee would be yanking Tony's chain once they got home. Gibbs felt a little tension ease out of his shoulders. He had been pretty sure those two could handle this. Nice to get confirmation. He turned his attention to McGee's feed as a tall, dark-haired waiter brought out the napkins and handed them to the women. He stayed for a minute, talking to them. This time it was Fornell running the software.
"Waiter is Neil Damon, Gibbs. Started the week before the first abduction." The FBI agent pressed a few more buttons. "Looks like he's got some petty stuff on his rap sheet: couple assault charges, some possession. Nothing major."
"David, McGee, keep an eye on the waiter at the women's table. DiNozzo, you focus on the rest of the room."
Tony let his fingers roam the keys, not even really thinking about what he was playing. It worked well enough at home, and it left him free to pay attention to the rest of the room. It had taken a few minutes to get used to playing on the piano's full-size keyboard again after using just his smaller electronic one at home. His lips twitched as he listened to the audio feed in his ear. Sacks was going to get a concussion at the rate he was going. And he knew Tim was going to be teasing him about his "conquests" for a few days. Well, if it helped throw Sacks off the trail, it would be worth it. Besides, he owed Tim about a thousand more opportunities to tease him for all the grief he'd given the junior agent over the years.
Hearing Gibbs' direction in his ear, Tony scanned the room slowly, evaluating the crowd. Several couples were swaying to the music in the small dance space in front of the stage. He would pause periodically to make eye contact with somebody while he played, then move on. He had turned the voice mike off after his introduction, just in case. So as long as he spoke quietly and wasn't obvious about it, he could communicate with the team.
"A couple of the women from that table near you are at the bar, chatting with the bartender," he said. "Probie, why don't you and Ziva get up, maybe do some dancing? Make your way over there."
"Ziva, would you like to dance?"
"I would love to, Tim."
"Sounds like a good idea, son. If we're not here when you get back, it's because I dragged your mother out on the dance floor, too."
Tony let his fingers pick up the rhythm a bit, giving them something more upbeat to dance to. "I'll pick up the dark-haired waiter who was chatting up the group of women in the back while they're tracking the bartender." He allowed his eyes to follow the man's movements around the room. From time to time, Tim and Ziva would cross paths with the waiter as he steered her around the dance floor toward the bartender.
"You're not half bad, Fred Astaire," Tony said as Tim spun Ziva out so she could get a look at where the bartender was chatting with two of the women. "James Bond would be proud."
Except that as soon as he said it, Ziva's arm clipped the shoulder of the waiter Tony had been tracking, jarring him enough that several drinks on his tray slopped over the sides.
"Oh, I am so sorry. I am afraid I just got carried away."
"Here, let me help you with that." Tim grabbed some napkins from the bar and started to spread them across the drink tray.
"No, I'm fine. Just-" Tony heard a crunch and looked up to see Tim picking up his glasses from the floor, obviously mangled.
"Dammit. McGee, your feed's gone. Make sure he doesn't see anything he shouldn't on those glasses."
Tony's hands started to pull away from the keys, but he forced himself to keep playing. He didn't think anybody had noticed the slight hesitation.
"DiNozzo."
"Right, Boss. Might be a distraction." He forced himself to move his focus away from his partner and looked around, talking softly. "Not causing too much attention except on that side of the room. Nobody's heading for the restrooms that I can see. Any super spy gadgets fall out of your glasses, Tim?"
"Ziva, it looks like you're driving home tonight. My glasses have pretty well had it."
"Sir, let me help you get that."
"No. I have them. It's just a couple little pieces of the frame. We've already caused you enough trouble, spilling your drinks."
"It's really no trouble."
"Please. We are fine. Tim, give me your glasses. I will put them in my purse."
"Thanks, Zee."
"Bartender's clean. He's been there six years, no record. Looks like Damon's our prime suspect. McGee, Ziva, be careful. Don't make him nervous. No hard evidence against him yet."
Tony could feel his insides clench at Gibbs' words, but forced himself to keep watching and talking, to push everything else into the piano. He didn't relax until Tim and Ziva were back at the table.
"Tim, is everything all right?"
"It's fine, Mom. Just a little spill. I just wanted to help him clean it up."
"So are we sure this is our guy?"
"Miss Scuito's running his car and phone records now. Hang on... She's got his cell phone headed for the second drop spot each of the nights somebody went missing. Looks like we have our man."
"Nope. Need to connect him to Murchinson."
"Bring him in, Gibbs. You can break him in interrogation." Tony just wanted this to be over so he could go home and make sure Tim was really OK. Trying to play a role and do his job and not worry was wearing him out.
"And if we're wrong, we've blown our cover. No other options. Keep an eye on that party of women. Ziva, if you get the chance, strike up a conversation. Find out who the target would be. If there are no single women, we're probably not getting anything tonight."
With no glasses, Tim figured he needed to stick close to the table to not blow his cover. He couldn't scan to provide video feed, and with Ziva over at the bar trying to make friends with the women from the next table, he couldn't provide any information anyway. Since they all had camera glasses with audio, they hadn't bothered with the earwig mikes, not wanting to risk feedback from having too many mikes too close together. All he could do was listen. His parents were doing the same. His dad had moved to the bench seat along the wall next to his mother and had his arm around her shoulders. Tim took one of the remaining chairs and angled it so he could see Tony playing. He'd rather have his arm around him, too, but since he couldn't come up with any way they could do that and still have Tony playing - at least without involving Abby and strange cloning experiments in the lab - he'd settle for this. As he listened to the audio feed with one ear, he finally let himself relax a bit and listen to Tony play with the other. He kept an eye on Damon, just in case he had spotted something in the glasses, but Tim was pretty sure they were OK. The bar lighting was dim, and the video components were tiny. The music washed over him, and Tim realized how much richer it sounded coming from a real piano. He listened to Tony play every night, but he'd never heard it sound like this before.
"Tim? You OK?"
"I'm fine, Dad. Just... enjoying the music." That was all he could say. With everybody listening in, including possibly Abby, he couldn't say he liked watching Tony's face as he played, liked hearing the music fill the room in a way Tony's electronic keyboard couldn't. Smiling, he realized that was something he could do for the senior agent. They had all that extra space upstairs, and he had plenty of money stashed away from royalties on Rock Hollow and the advance for his next book. The only tough part would be getting Tony out of the house long enough to get a piano delivered. Well, that and finding a way to get it upstairs. Maybe there was a way to fit it in the living room. He'd talk to Gibbs. He'd need the team leader's help to get Tony out of the house during the delivery anyway.
Ziva's voice in his ear brought him back to reality.
"No luck, Gibbs. The women all are married. Their husbands had plans tonight for some sporting event, so they made plans for a ladies' night out."
"OK, people. Keep an eye on Damon, but looks like we're going to have to wait this one out and come back tomorrow. I've got a few ideas."
Back at NCIS, Abby was working on one of the MTAC computers while Vance listened in on the op.
"I've got it! I've got it!" She spun around in the chair.
"Got what, Scuito?"
"I hacked the GPS for Damon's car and I have it moving from the alley behind the club to the vacant lot the night Murchinson died. He has to have left some evidence in the car, or some evidence of the car on her body. We just need to search the car."
"Not that easy. Everything we have is circumstantial. I can't get a judge to sign off on a warrant based on this."
"Got an idea, Leon."
"What is it, Gibbs?"
"Get Fornell to bring in a team of female agents tomorrow night, pretend like they're doing this girls' night out thing. Couple of them can flirt with Damon. We can put our team back in. The staff won't suspect anything. He snatches one of them. We rescue her, put Ziva in her place. Take him out when he goes to drag her off. David can handle him. We'll be outside in case he gets her out the door."
"Good thinking, Gibbs. Whole op is well-planned. Now we just need McGee's searches to give us-"
Abby spun back around as her computer started beeping. "We've got it!" She sent the address up to the main screen. "This has to be where Ringpolle's home base is. It's the only place that fits the criteria and has a big enough building to house this creepshow."
"Good work, Abbs."
She smiled as Vance pulled out his cell phone. "Balboa. Vance. Time to move out. You're in charge. Johnson's team from FBI will assist." He read the address off the screen. "Get in, get this son of a bitch and rescue the women. Take Dr. Mallard and Palmer to do triage." He hung up.
"Nice work, Scuito."
"McGee did the heavy lifting on this one," she said. "I just tracked it while he and the team were running the op."
"Good work, McGee. OK, folks. Relax. Soon as DiNozzo finishes up, get out of there. It's going to be a long day tomorrow."
Abby looked at her watch and decided to stick around. She was sure Tim had been about to say something to her in the lab earlier before her babies started talking. She'd been wanting to ask him out for a while, ever since he'd told her his girlfriend had broken up with him. First though she'd wanted to give him some time to get over her, then things had been so crazy with him and Tony moving. And she hadn't wanted to ask him while she was sick, not when she knew he had to be careful not to take germs home to Tony.
She was in the bullpen when the team walked in. Ziva only stayed long enough to get her gear and head home, while Fornell and Gibbs went upstairs to talk to Vance. Sacks hadn't even bothered to come in the building, which Abby thought was the first intelligent thing the man had done all week.
She walked over to Tim's desk, where he was filing away all the search results on his screen. Tony was kicked back in his chair, just chilling out — probably waiting for Tim to finish so they could drive home.
"Tim, you did great today," Abby said. She smiled as she leaned behind him and wrapped her arms around him as she'd done so many times before.
"Thanks, Abbs," he said.
"Hey Tim?" She bit her lower lip. "I've been thinking. I didn't want to ask before this, because I wasn't sure you were ready — after your girlfriend dumped you and all — but do you want to go out this weekend? Like we used to?"
She felt his shoulders tense beneath her, but before anybody could say anything, Vance's voice came from above.
"DiNozzo. McGee. My office. Now."
Abby stepped back as Tim jumped up.
"Do you know?" he said to Tony.
The senior field agent shook his head. "You don't think...?"
"You're the one who said..."
"I know. Come on. If we don't get up there now, we're liable to end up both Agent-Afloating."
As the walked side by side up the stairs, Abby muttered all sorts of things about the director's timing that would have gotten even her written up if the director had heard her say them out loud. Now she would have to wait until tomorrow to talk to Tim.
