Chapter Thirteen - Proof of Life
When Gibbs returned to his desk a small package was waiting. A padded envelope, hand written, addressed to him. No stamp meant hand delivery. He reached for a pair of disposable gloves. Something sent his gut reeling. He felt the envelope. There was a small box inside. He reached for his knife and checked the seal for wires.
He called DiNozzo and Bishop across the Bullpen. They joined him with a combination of curiosity and concern. "Either of you see who delivered this?"
They shrugged. "Someone brought it up from the lobby." Bishop replied. "I thought it was something you were expecting."
Gibbs shook his head irritably. "No." He nodded towards the elevator, "Go get the sign in log and the footage." Bishop hurried off in double time.
With the meticulously kept blade, Gibbs cut across the top of the envelope and tipped out the contents. Sure enough, there was a small box, perhaps a jewellery box and a folded sheet. The note, on now familiar pale blue paper, contained three words.
"Proof of life."
Carefully, he prised open the box with the knife tip. He took in a steadying breath.. The box contained two human teeth - one broken, the other whole including the root. His world spun out momentarily. Without another word, he closed his knife, gathered everything together and headed straight to the lab.
DiNozzo turned as Bishop returned from the main desk. "When he gets back up here, I want you to take him home."
"Why do I have to take him? Why not you or McGee?"
1
"Because I'm the senior field agent in charge here ... And he's less likely to shoot you," explained DiNozzo.
"Abbs I need you to process this for me ASAP." Gibbs demanded as he put everything down on the bench. He heard the forensic expert get up from her computer in her inner office.
"Oh my God. Oh my God. Gibbs what are you doing here? You should be at home." She rushed towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.
"Not you as well, Abbs!" he complained. "Everyone keeps trying to get rid of me. I can't go home."
"Why ever not? Don't you want to get away from all the nastiness?"
"I can't go home Abbs," his voice caught in his throat for the briefest of moments. Only those closest to him would even have noticed. "Because I'm the one that did this."
Abby hugged him harder. "Now you're just being dumb, Gibbs."
He took a step back and stared at her incredulously. "Dumb?"
"Okay, maybe not dumb," she corrected herself. "No-one could ever call you dumb Gibbs ... at least not to your face ... not if they want to live ... but then I just did ... Oh dear ... I'm in trouble now ... Let's just say your judgement is clouded right now. You're not seeing things clearly. She knows you were trying to protect her. And now I'm going to protect you ... Go home Gibbs. Let me work my magic. I'll find your answers for you, I promise. I'll catch up with you later." Abby pointed at the lab door. He kissed her on the temple, letting his lips rest there for a moment.
"Thank you," He whispered. She blinked her eyes in acknowledgement but kept pointing at the lab door until he turned and walked through it.
Once in the elevator he pushed the button for Autopsy. Dr. Mallard and Mr. Palmer were working on the felled FBI agent. Ducky turned as he heard the elevator and opened his mouth to speak.
Gibbs held up his hand to stop him. "Yes, I know Duck, I should be at home. The whole damn building is in agreement. I thought I'd seek sanctuary down here for a while if that's okay? And then I promise, I will go home." He nodded towards the body on the table. "What can you tell me?"
Ducky finished annotating his report and signed the bottom with a flourish. He left the clipboard next to the body and turned to Gibbs. "Agent Gregory Christopher Welsby. Forty four years old. Married with two children. He smoked too much, drank too much and ate too much junk food. He was well on his way to a heart attack. I would have been seeing him relatively soon anyway. He died of a severed spinal cord from a sharp, clockwise rotating motion between C3 and C4 of his spinal column. Thankfully quick and clean. I would also suggest that whoever did this has done it before. This was no lucky try, they knew what they were doing.
Fibres around his neck and upper torso suggest they came at him from behind. He wouldn't have known it was coming - one small mercy I suppose. Perhaps someone in front of him was keeping him occupied. Apart from that, the usual collection of samples have gone up to Abby. I have finished my report for Special Agent Fornell and Mr. Palmer here, has to clear up. The older man folded his arms across his chest and looked up at his friend. "And you, my Dear Jethro, must GO HOME."
Gibbs threw his hands in the air in annoyance, "Aagh. Okay, I'm going! Stop by later Duck? I could do with the company."
"Of course my Boy. I'll bring alcohol, the decent variety."
Gibbs remembered sitting in a seminar she gave once. He had never seen any aspect of her work before. He was so proud to be there. He so admired the way she could talk to a whole room of people so effortlessly. It was his idea of hell!
At the QA session at the end she was asked how one ultimately survives a sexual assault. Their gaze met briefly. It was a question he had never asked. She lowered her eyes - the question now answered. She turned back to the audience, her mood dark.
"Understand, this is only my personal opinion. Others may offer different advice. I would say, resist for as long as you can, but once you are over powered, give them nothing. Close your eyes. Try not to give them any emotional response at all - That's what they want. To feel power over you; to take everything from you. So don't give them a thing. Remember, everything is repairable with the right help, but not if you're dead and your priority must be to stay alive."
He had heard every word. Felt every word. There was a special place in the recesses of his mind that would keep that information safe and one day, Samuel would pay.
As he lay on the couch, sick to his stomach. He wondered if she had needed to heed her own advice.
As she lay on the mattress, the blanket partially covering her body, she reminded herself - She was still alive.
The following day another package was delivered. This time to Fornell. He took it straight across town to Abby. She opened it carefully. The note read:
"Poor Cinders."
She tipped the content into a tray. Complete tresses of silver hair fell out. "Oh boy," gasped Abby. She grabbed tweezers magnifying glasses and Petri dishes. "I can already see a lot of trace. I'm sure it's got plenty to tell me." She added confidently.
"Should I call Gibbs?" asked Fornell, his face a picture of concern.
"Maybe wait until I have some results." She replied without looking up from her task.
Dr. Mallard requested everyone's attendance in Autopsy later that day. Abby looked distressed and had obviously been crying. Dr. Mallard was stone faced and unreadable. Fornell arrived with the Bull Pen. The door opened one last time to admit Leon Vance. Everyone looked at him in panic.
He took his toothpick from his mouth. "What? D'you think I don't know what happens when you all disappear at once? I want 'in', this time, people. They are my friends too." He paused and stood 'at ease' his hands behind his back. "Talk about Gibbs not being on this case, none of us should be." He turned towards Abby, "Now, what did you find out for us, Miss Sciutto?"
Abby was unusually quiet. She looked at Dr. Mallard with an almost childlike need for support. He placed a fatherly arm across her shoulders. "Start with the positive things, my Dear."
She nodded but still the clipboard in her hand shook. "The packaging itself was pretty standard stuff. The same goes for the lettering on the notes – comic books available from thousands of places throughout the city. No fingerprints or touch DNA. They're not going to tell us anything much.
But, there were airborne particles stuck to the tape and glue and trapped in the envelopes which suggest an industrial area with a high concentration of hydrocarbons and particulates from heavy duty diesel fuel. Mould spores on the tape are consistent with stagnant, dirty water. Maybe somewhere derelict or a dock some place."
"That doesn't narrow it down by much Abbs," complained McGee.
"Yes it does." She argued. "It takes out the whole of the rest of the city, McGee. That's a lot."
She took a breath and continued. "The blood from the teeth was fresh and oxygenated which says she was alive when they were removed. A carpet fibre on the broken tooth matched that of the hotel room. A lack of any other trace says to me that the second one was taken at a different time and a different place. Major MAs spec. confirmed the DNA from the teeth belongs to her.
"So, we know she was still alive yesterday." Vance added nodding. "That is indeed a positive, thank you Miss Sciutto."
"They won't kill her yet." Hypothesized Dr. Mallard. "They want her hurt and humiliated first. It was always Fairytale's M.O. And this time they have a second victim to torture remotely. That and the agreement they've made with Samuel, these bastards will take their time about it."
Abby continued, her expression still grim. "It appears they shaved her head with a razor - probably a cheap disposable and it didn't do a very good job. There were traces of skin, blood and hair follicles. At least some of the hair fell to the floor and was then swept up to put in the envelope. Not very smart of them because it gave up masses of information.
So, I can tell you we are looking for a warehouse, or factory in an industrial area. Probably derelict judging by the rust and mould spores. The paint is blue but it was green underneath. It's all pealing off and flaking. There's evidence of rats and mice, unsurprisingly. There were also chemicals in wood splinters, probably from floor boards that I'm still trying to identify. I will let you know as soon as I find a match."
"Now, we're getting somewhere!" DiNozzo exclaimed. "Something to work with. Well done Abbs. "
The Lab Tech couldn't speak anymore. She put the clipboard down on the autopsy table and wrapped her arms around herself. She stared at the report sadly, on the verge of tears. Bishop suddenly understood - one woman to another. "My God." She gasped. "I know what else you found, Abby ... " Her wide eyes matching those of her friend. Abby closed her eyes sadly. She nodded in affirmation.
"Two donors. My guess would be that they shaved her head. The hair fell to the floor and then they ... they ... in the same place. I'm looking for a match. Its running upstairs. As soon as I find one, its yours."
The room was silent. Abby and Bishop hugged each other tightly. Dr. Mallard reached for a handkerchief in his pocket. The other men stared at various spots around the room. Fornell broke the silence. He cleared his throat a couple of times. He looked at each them in turn.
"How do I tell him?" He asked.
Gibbs sat at the table staring at an untouched TV dinner. He could hear his wife's disapproval at his meal choice in his head. It made him smile for a second. He pushed plastic tray away from him. Why had he even bothered to heat it? He stood, walked over to the trash and threw it away. He heard a car pull up outside.
Dr. Mallard and Tobias walked through the front door. He didn't bother with pleasantries.
"Duck, Tobias? What's the word?" Something was very wrong. He could tell by the men's demeanour. "What is it? Is she dead?"
"No, no Jethro. She's not dead." Tobias answered. " ... Why don't you sit down for a minute? Have a glass of scotch. Ducky brought a ten year old malt. It's really very good."
"I don't wanna sit down, Tobias." Gibbs yelled, becoming increasingly concerned. Something had clearly upset his friends and he figured he was next.
"Well, will you at least have the scotch?" coaxed the doctor. Ducky handed them each a glass.
Gibbs downed it in one and handed it back. "Happy now? Now please tell me what you know?"
Fornell looked into his whisky. He swirled the glass and took a sip. The golden liquid burned fiercely in his throat. He felt it reach his stomach. It did nothing to quell the churning he felt there. He looked up at Gibbs. His expression told his friend all he needed to know.
Gibbs clapped a hand across his mouth, looking heavenward as his brain struggled to process the information it had just received. His eyes - windows to a tortured soul, he backed away from the other men. "No, no, don't say it." He muttered under his breath. He leaned against the wall, bent over, his head in his hands. When he eventually stood up, Tobias was walking towards him. His expression combination of shock, hurt and helplessness. There was no way to his friend, his brother, gently.
"What? There's more?"
Fornell reached his friend and took him by the shoulder. His voice was full of emotion. "Two. There were two, Gibbs. She wouldn't have stood a chance against them," he rasped. Tobias turned his head to the floor, too upset to face his friend any longer. "We will get these bastards Gibbs. We will get them."
There was a moment of shocked silence. Tobias continued. "We can assume the apprentices. Abby's DNA tests will be back by the morning. She's staying at the lab tonight to make sure the tests run smoothly."
Gibbs nodded very slightly. He stared at the floor, leaning on his friend slightly for support. He finally stood straight. "You okay?" asked Fornell, gingerly.
Gibbs suddenly let out a primal scream and launched a fist towards his friend with Herculean might. It missed Fornell's head by an inch and sank into the wall next to his ear. Wood splintered and plaster disintegrated instantly to dust. "No," replied Gibbs returning to the Doctor and the whisky. "I am as far from okay as it is possible to be."
He took the bottle and poured himself a full glass of the caramel coloured liquid. He downed the whole lot in one breath. "Now, tell me what I need to know. I want it all."
Ducky looked up from his book when he heard a moan from the couch. Gibbs rolled over into a sitting position clutching his head with both hands. "My God, Duck. What the hell was that stuff? My head feels like it's going to explode."
"You're not supposed to drink it like soda-pop." The doctor replied. He picked up the now empty bottle. "I'm surprised you weren't out for quite a bit longer actually."
Ducky held out a glass of water and two tablets. "Here, take these and drink all of that. Tobias gave up around 4am I'd guess, but I wasn't happy to leave you on your own. Do you feel any better?"
The sun shone belligerently through the front window. Gibbs held up his bruised and bloody hand to block the light. "No, not at all but now I know what I've got to do."
The doctor picked up his coat from the hooks by the door. "I have to go home and change before work. We will see you later, no doubt." The two men hugged and slapped each other in the back.
"Thanks Duck," whispered Gibbs into the doctor's ear.
"Don't mention it Dear Boy," came the reply. Dr. Mallard opened the front door and headed home as Gibbs crawled gingerly up the stairs towards the shower.
An hour later Gibbs walked purposefully into the office. From his expression nobody was foolish enough to challenge him. He joined Fornell, DiNozzo and his team in the Squad Room. He held up a small package.
"This was delivered to my house while I was showering." Without slowing his pace he crossed the Bullpen and headed straight for the elevator and Abby's lab. DiNozzo looked up towards the mezzanine to see Vance watching the scene unfold. He nodded for the Director to join them.
Same padded envelope. Same hand written address. A small box inside. A note on pale blue paper. The note read:
"No more, the bride."
Abby cut open the box and lifted the lid. There was a shocked gasp amongst the surrounding group. Gibbs was terrifying in his lack of emotion - only the twitch of the muscle at the back of his jaw gave away any of his struggle for control.
In the box, a severed ring finger - her wedding ring still attached, laying on a bed of cotton wool.
Vance was the first to speak. "Abby, you, McGee and Bishop work on getting us a location. We must find her today. The rest of you gentlemen, meet me in Autopsy in fifteen minutes." He turned on his heel and left the lab.
Abby tried to comfort Gibbs but he silently shook his head and shrugged her away. He headed to autopsy with Dr. Mallard and no doubt to the bottle of Glen Livet in the good doctor's filing cabinet.
Fornell and DiNozzo had reports to update and personnel to advise before they met back in the basement
DiNozzo, Fornell, Gibbs and Dr. Mallard stood around the far autopsy table, their expressions grim and determined. Nobody spoke.
"Mr. Palmer, go and do something." Vance barked as he strode purposefully into the room.
"Why of coarse Director, what shall I go and do?"
"I don't care as long as it's far away from here." Said Vance stonily.
"Yes ... right ...Oh, I remember now, I have to take the ... the ... thing up to the ... place. Of course, Director. I'll go now shall I?" The Autopsy Assistant looked over his glasses to see them all glaring at him menacingly. "Yes, I'll go now ..." He sprinted away as if his shoes were on fire.
"When the doors had closed behind him Dr. Mallard sealed them and turned on the Biohazard Containment system.
Gibbs turned to the other men around him. His expressionless face cold and stone like. "You can't keep me out of this. Not anymore. I'll go alone if I have to."
"I wasn't going to suggest anything of the sort. Everything has changed now." Replied Vance. "As of this morning, we are all on personal leave - for that fishing trip we've been promising we'd take together." Explained Vance.
"Anyone who can't swim should leave now." Vance looked at each man in turn. They met his gaze steadily and with determination. No-one moved.
"Good, because no-one attacks our family."