Chapter 21
Today is the day, Tim said to himself. He had to try it now.
He'd been sitting at the computer for hours, trying to get everything working. He was really starting to feel the stress, the fear that he'd go too far and give them what they wanted, and the fury that he had to worry about this, that they were doing it to him.
Now, he ramped up into high gear. He opened window after window, most of them doing nothing but being distracting, and he had windows doing what he was supposed to be doing, windows that would eventually lead him to the area of the CIA that Bill had told him about, windows full of codes. He was bringing up one after another so it looked like this was important work and that if he was interrupted it would be a problem. He'd done this before so he could establish some kind of precedent, something to tell them that it was normal for him to get into a flurry of activity occasionally.
He pushed away everything else. All that mattered was the computer, the message he was trying to send, the stuff he was supposed to be doing and would have to do some of in order to get away with this.
Into the CIA to drop the first signal that there was a message.
10011 1111 10011 0
Then, back into one of the useless windows. Into the work he was supposed to be doing. For just a moment, his mind jumped to what would happen if he failed, if he was caught. He froze and almost started hyperventilating.
No. Can't think about it. Can't think about it. Stop.
It took a little bit, but he managed to get back into it, pushing away the fear and anxiety, even the anger. Everything had to go away so he could do this.
Next stage.
1110 1111 10010 10100 1000 0
Out and back to the work he was supposed to do. More scaffolding of what he was going to have to use, the different parts that would allow for the eventual creation of a hidden link to the CIA network. Into the useless windows. Back to the next word in his message.
1 1110 100 0
Out again. Into the work he was supposed to do. It had been less than a minute so far, but he felt like it had been hours. He was sweating with trying to manage everything at once, and even if he wasn't only doing the work he hated, that was still part of it. He felt like he might not make it through.
No. I have to. Keep going.
Back in.
10111 101 10011 10100 0
He heard the door open behind him and he jumped into one of the windows with the real work being done. He kept going. Flipping back and forth between that one and one of the useless windows. But in his head, he was about ready to do a mini meltdown. It wasn't the big one. He'd gone through that emotional state far too often to mistake it, but he was getting close to a minor explosion. If they talked to him, interrupted him right now, he'd erupt.
"He's been working?"
"Yeah."
"How long has he been doing this?"
"Twenty minutes."
"Okay."
Then, the presence was gone. Inside, Tim nearly had a meltdown anyway just from the relief. He refocused. Back in.
1111 110 0 100 11 0
Out. Pretend to work. Back in.
1100 1 10010 111 101 0
Out.
This went on for hours, and Tim couldn't stop. He couldn't take a break. He was in work mode and he was on a roll. If they stopped him, he'd freak out. He knew it. This was the state that he had known he would get into if he wasn't able to stop himself. He was there now. Work because nothing else was allowed to exist...but still knowing that he was doing work he shouldn't be doing.
Back in and out. He would drop one word and then back out. He hadn't been barred from the system, and he was pretty sure that someone must have seen him by now. After all these intrusions in such a short span of time. Maybe they were just allowing it. Maybe they realized what was happening.
Maybe.
He couldn't focus on the maybes. That would ruin him, would ruin everything.
The last bunch.
10011 101 100 1 1110 0 10110 1
He jumped back out and closed out that window, clearing out the keystrokes and history so that there was no evidence of that part.
Then, he went back to the fake windows for a while and slowly closed them out one at a time. Getting back to doing only what he was supposed to be doing took about another hour. As he divested himself of all the work and fake work he'd been doing, he felt more and more drained by it. He started to slow down, not even sure what there was left up. His vision was blurring a little bit. The days of not sleeping and then this hours-long intense work were combining to wear him out. He was feeling floaty and strange, but he struggled to keep himself aware. The last thing he needed after all this effort, this killing effort as Levi had described it once, would be to let something out because he'd lost focus.
Still, how long had it been since he'd eaten? He didn't remember. What time was it? He didn't know.
He was now sitting motionless, staring at the computer screen, unaware of nearly everything but that he had to keep himself aware long enough to get back to the room. Just that far. If he made it that far, it would be enough.
"You're not working."
Tim started laughing. It would lead to tears soon enough, but he tried not to let it.
"Please. Threaten me. Kill me. Whatever. I don't even care. Whatever," he whispered.
He was overdoing it a little bit, but he was feeling so worn down at this moment that he genuinely would almost prefer it.
There was movement behind him, but then, the door opened.
"You're done. Take him back to the room."
Tim turned off the computer and stood up, feeling dizzy, but mastering the feeling for the moment.
He walked with his guard back to the room. He couldn't even muster up enough energy to hate the guard. He barely even acknowledged the existence of his captor. He stepped inside and heard the door close.
"Tim, are you all right?"
Tim shook his head. He took a step forward and felt the collapse coming. He staggered toward the couch and only made it there because Bill and Curtis each grabbed an arm and got him there. He sat down with a heavy thump and then slumped down, his eyes closing and his whole body getting in on protesting his recent treatment of his brain.
"What did they do to you?" Curtis asked.
"Nothing... same old. Just more... intense today than before."
There was nothing more he could say without giving away what he'd been doing.
"Did you eat at all?"
"I don't think so. I don't remember eating."
"Then, you need to eat something," Curtis said.
He got up and strode to the door and pounded on it.
"Hey! He needs food in here! If you're going to tear him apart like this, you need to make sure he eats!"
There was a long pause and then the door opened. The guard had a tray with something on it. Tim only looked for a moment, but he still heard the conversation.
"You remember your place here. You're worth nothing."
"I haven't forgotten, and if I'm worthless, then, that really casts a bad light on the rest of you."
There was a bit of noise and then the door closed. Tim heard Curtis sit down by him.
"Tim, if you're that worn out, you need to eat something."
Tim forced his eyes open and sat up.
"Is this what you meant?" Curtis asked.
"Kind of," Tim said as he began eating. "It gets a lot worse than this. I made it back here. I stayed conscious. Once I worked on it for so long that I passed out on the keyboard and was out for nearly a day. The only way I can work is if I ignore everything else, but when I ignore everything else, I fall apart."
"So when you said you were insane, you meant it," Bill said.
"Yep."
Eating was making him feel a little better, though. He wasn't as far gone as he sometimes was. Not yet. After finishing the meal, he leaned back on the couch again and closed his eyes.
"Are you feeling better?" Curtis asked.
"Yeah. For now," Tim said.
Should they know just how bad it could get? Probably.
"But it's only going to get worse from here," he said, softly. "I'm better off than I was the other two times, so it might take longer, but I'm going to be headed downhill. Every time I work on it. I just won't be able to stop it. I'm... not very pleasant when things go bad for me. I'll try to hold it off, but this is my weak spot. It has been for more than a decade, and it always will be."
There was no response at first, and even after that, there was no verbal response.
There was a hand on his shoulder. Tim opened his eyes and looked up. It was Curtis. He wasn't speaking, but he might as well be shouting out what he meant. He wasn't going to let Tim fall. They were getting out.
And Tim really hoped so. He hoped that his message had been received and that it could be deciphered. He'd dropped each individual part in a different part of the same section. He would have loved to put it all in one place to make it easier, but he didn't dare linger that long.
He could only hope.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Roy was sitting in his office, early in the morning, staring at the wall, actually praying for something to break, for there to be a clue, a hint, anything that would lead them to where Tim might have been taken or by whom. He'd take what he could get.
And then, he got a phone call.
"What is it, Marjean?"
"It's Agent Kyle, Director."
That got his attention. Agent Kyle was an unusual agent even for the CIA. He was part of a black ops group who had special authority from the President to violate some of the CIA restrictions. They weren't actively working on any missions at the moment. Why was he being contacted right now?
"Put him through."
"Yes, sir."
"Agent Kyle?"
"I've got something you have to see, Director. Now."
"You need me to go to you?"
"Yes."
"Okay."
Roy hung up without another word and then walked out.
"Marjean, I'm busy until I get back. Hold all my calls. Don't put anyone through unless it's the President."
Marjean's eyes widened.
"Will he call, Director?"
Roy chuckled. "I highly doubt it."
"Good. I'll hold your calls."
Then, Roy headed off to an area of the CIA that he would always deny even existed.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Ziva was sitting at her desk, fingering her necklace. It had been days with nothing. Zahara was more fearful every time anyone came by. Even Salma had started noticing that something was wrong. It had been more than a week with nothing to show for it. They were still working, still waiting to hear anything about the satellites. So far...nothing.
If anything was working out, it was that Tony had stopped protesting working with Levi. He said nothing for it, but he didn't say anything against it, either. In fact, he wasn't saying much of anything. Levi and Bri had stopped saying much themselves. Levi spent hours, staring at the information they had, trying to get something more from it.
For Ziva, it just all seemed like a pointless exercise and she was afraid that they'd never find Tim. If that happened, what would happen to the rest of them? She didn't know if they could survive a failure, not this kind of failure.
Suddenly, Gibbs stood up and started for the stairs. Ziva stood.
"Gibbs?"
He paused and looked at her. She was trying to be stoic, but she knew she was failing. Gibbs walked back to her and looked her in the eye.
"It's something. I don't know what yet."
Then, he touched the scars on her wrist.
"It's going to work out."
Then, he ran up the stairs and went into MTAC. Ziva sat back down and tried to hope.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"What's going on, Jen?" Gibbs asked as soon as he stepped inside.
"I don't know," Jenny said. "I received an urgent message from the CIA requesting a meeting with us, the NSA and the FBI, and it was requesting it ASAP."
"They're all ready, ma'am."
Jenny looked over at the tech and nodded.
"Put them through."
Instantly, there were three faces staring back at them.
"All right, Director Morgan," Gellman said. "What's going on? This had better be good."
"I'm pretty sure it is. I'll let you decide," Roy said, with the slightest hint of sarcasm.
"Get on with it. I'm sure we're all busy," Director Norton said.
"Understand that I'm not giving more details about this than I do. If you have questions, confine them to the important topic, not to details I won't give."
Before any of them could again complain, Roy moved on.
"Last night, an area of the CIA system was inundated with data coming from an unknown source. Coding was ruined and required a lot of attention to fix. It was happening over the course of hours with small bits of binary code being inserted in various parts, but all within the same section of our system."
Gibbs noticed that Roy was very carefully not saying what that section was. That must be one of the details that wouldn't be shared.
"At first, they assumed they were being hacked and tried to find and repel the hacker. That failed. Then, they started trying to fix the code and they noticed something about it."
"What?" Jenny asked.
"It was not malicious. There was no attempt to trace or track. No viruses. It was just small sequences of binary code. So they decided to start recording it. After the hack ended, this is what they ended up with."
Roy's picture was replaced by a series of ones and zeroes.
10011 1111 10011 0 1110 1111 10010 10100 1000 0 1 1110 100 0 10111 101 10011 10100 0 1111 110 0 100 11 0 1100 1 10010 111 101 0 1000 1111 10101 10011 101 0 1111 10000 101 1110 0 11001 1 10010 100 0 10011 101 11 1111 1110 100 0 110 1100 1111 1111 10010 0 10 1 10010 10011 0 10100 1000 10010 101 101 0 10100 1111 0 101 10011 11 1 10000 101 0 111 10010 1 11001 0 10011 101 100 1 1110 0 10110 1
"Does this mean something?" Gibbs asked. It looked like nothing to him.
"Yes, it does."
"What?" Director Norton asked.
"The numbers are separated out into groups. These are binary numbers that can be converted into decimal numbers. When they did that, they got the following."
Again, Roy was replaced by numbers.
19 15 19 0 14 15 18 2 14 4 0 23 5 19 20 0 1 12 1 1 15 21 19 5 0 15 16 5 14 0 25 1 18 4 0 19 5 3 15 1 12 15 15 1 18 19 0 20 8 1 20 1 18 1 25 0 1 14 0 22 1
"They weren't sure if it would be so simple, but they did a simple alphabet code, and it worked. They got the following message."
Once more, a message on the screen, only this time with words.
SOS NORTH AND WEST OF DC LARGE HOUSE OPEN YARD SECOND FLOOR BARS THREE TO ESCAPE GRAY SEDAN VA
Gibbs stood up abruptly.
"Are you sure this is from Agent McGee?" Jenny asked.
"Yes. As sure as we can be. The SOS carries over from the NSA, and there is no reason for anyone else to be doing this in that particular section of the CIA."
"It would appear that Agent McGee is trying to give us the necessary information to save him," Gellman said.
"Not just him," Norton said. "Three to escape. I would assume that refers to Bill Joyce and Curtis Jacobs."
"I don't know who else it could be," Jenny said. "What have you done with this message, Director Morgan?"
"This. This is what I've done," Roy said. "Now, the ball is in your court, Gellman...or yours, Norton. The CIA has shared information relating to the whereabouts of one Timothy McGee. What can you do with it?"
Neither of them asked why them. There was no pretending in this situation.
"He's close to DC and was transported in a car with Virginia plates," Gibbs said. "Now?"
"I'll be happy to take this information and see what kind of legs it actually has," Norton said. "Obviously, if we're successful in finding this car, we'll share that information. However, gray or silver cars are very common, and this might be more difficult than you seem to think."
"Gray," Gibbs said. "Gray sedan with Virginia plates. We've traced cars with that much before."
Norton smiled slightly. "We'll be using a much longer lens, Agent Gibbs. However, while we're renewing our search, it would behoove the rest of you to make some plans. The rest of that message is rather concerning as far as how easily you can get Agent McGee out."
Gellman nodded. "Bars on the window. Second floor. Open yard, meaning no cover."
"And a group of people who have already proven their willingness to cause harm to others by capturing Curtis Jacobs' wife to force his compliance," Roy added. "We'll need to go in force and be prepared to use that force. This won't be a simple case of picking them up when they escape. We need to get them out."
"Alive," Gibbs said.
Roy gave him a look but he nodded.
"Yes. Alive. We can start making general plans, but specifics will have to wait until we know the exact situation. Going in blind is a bad idea."
"Is there anything else?" Norton asked.
"Not on my end," Roy said.
"Then, we'll get started. Hopefully, we'll know one way or the other within a day."
"Thank you, Director Norton," Jenny said. "Director Morgan, would you be willing to have my people working with your team as you begin your plans?"
"Certainly. I'll have Agent Andrews contact you tomorrow."
"Thank you," Jenny said.
Norton's image disappeared as did Roy's.
Jenny glanced at Gibbs and then refocused on the screen.
"Was there something else, Director Gellman?"
"Yes."
"What?"
"I hesitate to suggest this, knowing both how you will feel and how Agent McGee would feel if he was aware of it."
"Well, if you have something to say, please say it."
"If the FBI's satellite connections are good enough to find this gray needle in a haystack and it leads us to where Agent McGee is being held, would you be willing to delay your rescue of him?"
"Delay it? Why?" Gibbs asked.
"We're working on the assumption that we'll find these people and that will be it, but I'm concerned about how organized they appear to be. That implies that they're not new to this and if they're not new to it, they may also have a much larger network of members. If you were willing to delay by perhaps one day, that would give us the time to start monitoring them and seeing how widespread they truly are. I know you're concerned about Agent McGee's safety. I am as well, but I also have to be concerned about a previously-unknown domestic terrorist organization."
"One day would be enough?" Jenny asked.
Gibbs tensed beside her.
"Enough to set it up, and enough to be prepared for the chaotic chatter that will likely ensue once you rescue Agent McGee and, hopefully, Bill Joyce. They'll be in upheaval and if we're already listening, we'll be ready to hear what they say. This could be invaluable."
"I understand what you're saying. If and when the FBI comes through, you'll get no more than one day, and if you get your setup any earlier, you'll tell us so that we can go in."
"Agreed. Thank you, Director Shepard. That's all I have."
Jenny nodded and the screen went to the colored bars.
"Don't say it, Gibbs," Jenny said. "I don't like it, either, but he's right. It can't just be about McGee. And even if it was just about him. If these people have tried to take him once, then, we have the chance to make sure that these people don't get the chance to take him again."
Gibbs knew she was right, but he hated it. He didn't want to leave Tim wherever he was for any longer than was necessary.
"One other thing to consider. We probably won't be doing any kind of rescue mission during the day anyway, so even if the FBI does come through quickly, we'll still have to wait and plan. The NSA can be setting up while we're setting up."
"Fine."
Gibbs turned to leave.
"And if the CIA hasn't contacted you first thing in the morning, let me know. We're not going to be left out of the rescue," Jenny said.
Gibbs nodded once and left the room.
They had something. Possibly something big.
Now, they just had to hope that it would lead to more.