CHAPTER 2 - They Seemed to Be Ordinary People

Tony read all of the suspects' files, but there was nothing in them that led him to believe any of them had stolen the missiles. They seemed to be ordinary people who just happened to be stationed at a Marine Corps base from which some valuable armaments had been stolen.

When he was done, Tony began to read aloud the high points of the information on the possible suspects. "We have fifteen possible suspects, all stationed at the US Marine Corps Base Wildwood, east of Baltimore, which specializes in advanced weapons training. They have a sizable armory of weapons, and they do most of the inspections and repair of armaments for the Navy on the East Coast."

"All they took were Stingers?"

"Yeah. This says a dozen FIM-92 missiles are missing from the Wildwood armory. Value on the black market is … half a million dollars, minimum. They haven't been recovered, but McGee is connecting with the ATF, and will keep us updated." He looked up at Gibbs and said, "The Stingers were discovered as being missing this morning, but they could have been stolen anytime in the past three days. Hell, they could be anywhere by now. And to make matters worse, the security system was acting weird on Friday night, with video feed going in and out, and even secure areas unlocking at random. They fixed the issue by Saturday morning."

Gibbs' response was to press down harder on the accelerator and weave between the slower vehicles on the highway as they approached Baltimore.

Luckily, Tony had developed immunity to Gibbs' driving, and trusted him to get them to their destination in one piece. He continued, "McGee ran deep background checks on everyone and came up with three top suspects: Sergeant Eric Simpson, Sergeant William Pine and Second Lieutenant Reed Bartlett. Of course, the other twelve aren't off the hook until we interview them all. All of them are being held at the base." He asked, "Are we bringing them back to DC?"

"We'll question them on site, then decide."

Tony texted McGee and then reported to Gibbs, "Still no sign of the missiles. Lack of chatter suggests it may have been a special order. The Marine MPs have held the suspects, but haven't interrogated anyone yet. McReporter says here they got orders not to. Was that your order?"

"Yup. We need to do our own questioning without the MPs messing it up."

"If you stole a truckload of Stingers, you would have taken off right away, right? But all these suspects have remained on base. You'd think a thief with half a million in their pocket would be on a fast flight to South America."

Gibbs nodded. "There's no extradition from Venezuela."

"Exactly. So maybe someone else stole them and they're long gone, along with the missiles? Just saying…"

"Initial reports indicate it was an inside job, though," Gibbs reminded him. "This was planned, and getting access to the heavy weapons section of the armory isn't something just anyone off the street can walk in and do. Could be one of the Marines unlocked the doors, and someone else removed the weapons from the base."

"Only a handful of large trucks have left between Friday night and this morning, according to security records," Tony read from a printout of the base's guardhouse log. "Heavy vehicles have to use the gate at the east side, and they search all trucks at all checkpoints, coming and going. Looks like they only get a few large vehicles a week."

"Any indication the Stingers are still on base?" Gibbs asked doubtfully.

"They've searched thoroughly, all weekend, according to the CO," Tony said, but when Gibbs gave him a stern look, he added, "And I'll verify the search was thoroughly thorough, of course."

Stinger missiles were 5 feet long but only 22 pounds, and the launch tube and grip stock added another 12 pounds to the weapon. Easy enough to move, as they were built for one man to handle and fire – but they weren't exactly small. The base was relatively large though, with a lot of buildings and outdoor space, including training grounds and some wooded areas. It would be easiest to get them off the base before the alarm was raised, so Tony doubted they were still there.

Gibbs asked Tony to give him a rundown of the three main suspects.

"Sure. Three men had access to the armory, and none of them can accurately account for their whereabouts at all times over the past three days, and specifically for Friday night, when the security system was on the fritz. One, Sgt. Pine, left the base on an overnight pass starting on Friday evening, just as he has for the past three weekends he's been here. As far as the armory goes, the system that keeps track of door activity had a short Friday night, but has since been repaired."

"Closing the barn door after the horse has bolted," Gibbs snorted.

Tony continued, "Next is Sgt. Simpson, age 45, single, lives in on-base housing, and is in charge of weapons and inventory control at the armory. Looks like he's been the same rank and position for the past twelve years. Does that mean he's really happy with his job and doesn't want a change?"

"Or that he has the ambition of a slug?" Gibbs asked, not expecting an answer.

"Then we have Sgt. William Pine. He's just completed teaching a 4-week advanced weapons training to reserves. Says here he comes from Wisconsin, joined the Marines at 21. He's now 27, never married, no kids. No next of kin listed but there's a name and contact phone number." He flipped over the page and said, "George M. Cohen. The number's in New York." He halted reading the file to say to Gibbs, "Did you know that not only was the original George M. Cohen a big Broadway producer, but he wrote over 300 songs? You know the movie Yankee Doodle? 1942. James Cagney played him."

"Yeah, I got it," Gibbs said with a nod. "Sgt. Pine. He's the one who's gone off-base the last three weekends?"

"Yep. According to the MPs, the sergeant checks out 1700 Friday and returns 1700 Sunday. They were under the impression it was to see a girlfriend. There's no vehicle registered in his name; I guess he could take public transportation to wherever he goes every weekend."

Gibbs asked, "What's his stateside address?"

Tony checked and supplied, "1265 Lombardi Avenue, Green Bay, Wisconsin. Pine has done several tours overseas. He's seen combat in Liberia, Pakistan, Iraq. Got a chest full of medals and commendations. This is his first time on US soil since he signed up, and he is currently going through the process of separating from the Marines. His assignment until then is teaching advanced weapons, including Stingers for short-range air defense. He only has one more week and he's walking away from military life. Not your usual suspect, Boss."

"Can't judge a book," Gibbs reminded him.

Tony read through Sgt. Pine's background information once again. There was something about it that bothered him but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Like all the other files, there was a head shot of the Marine in the upper left corner. Tony had already studied it, just as he had all the other Marines they were going to question.

Sgt. Pine was a good-looking young man with dark hair and dark eyes, but there was nothing unusual about him. Only… Tony suddenly had a feeling he'd seen him somewhere before.

"What is it?" Gibbs asked.

"I'm getting déjà vu. I think I know this guy. Sgt. Pine," Tony said.

"You cross paths with him in an investigation?"

"I don't think so. I always remember the suspects, witnesses, people we interview. And, according to his record, he's been on active duty ever since he joined up," Tony said slowly. "Maybe it was before that. I don't think I've ever been to Wisconsin though."

"Maybe he lived in Baltimore?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'm imagining it. These guys all look the same with their high-and-tight haircuts."

"Face-to-face, when we interview him, might ring a bell," Gibbs said.

"Maybe." Tony slipped Pine's page underneath the other two men's. Suddenly he slapped his knee and laughed. "Shit, I can't believe I missed it."

"What?" Gibbs asked.

"The address Sgt. Pine gave in Wisconsin? It isn't residential. It's Lambeau Field! Home to the Green Bay Packers! I knew there was something about him that wasn't right. But why would he give a fake address?"

"How'd you know the address for the Packers' stadium?"

"I had a set of sports cards with stadiums, and all the info about their size and capacity, including their locations," Tony said. He shrugged. "I remember stuff like that."

Gibbs shook his head. "We'll find out more when we sit him down for a little chat."

"Okay, back to the suspects. The third Marine of interest is Second Lieutenant Reed Bartlett. He's 39, and his dad was a Marine so he grew up on bases mostly. Been here in Baltimore for five years, works in recruiting. He's divorced, and he plans to move to Vermont to be close to the ex and their two kids." Tony took a deep breath. "Nothing screams 'arms dealer' with any of these guys, but until we're done, I guess everyone is a suspect."

Gibbs pulled up a short time later at the front gate of the Marine Corps Base Wildwood. After showing their IDs they drove to the main building and parked. Before he got out of the sedan, Tony handed Gibbs the files while he pulled out a small bottle of Visine and applied a few drops in each eye. He noticed Gibbs was watching him, so when he was done, he offered him the bottle. "It'll make the whites of your eyes shine in the dark," he said, blinking rapidly.

Gibbs seemed amused, but he gave a small shake of his head and looked through the profiles of the Marines they were about to interview. Tony waited patiently even though he was getting hungry. He couldn't remember eating breakfast and they hadn't even stopped on the way for coffee. Maybe he could get something from the mess hall before they started working.

As soon as Gibbs was finished, he muttered, "I need coffee."

Tony stuck the paperwork in the folder and they both got out of the car. He stretched and his back popped. "Oh, that feels good."

Gibbs looked him up and down and gave one of his not-quite-a-smiles. "Maybe you need a massage before we start these interviews, DiNozzo?"

With a grin, Tony replied, "Now that'd be nice… Will you take a rain check? Right now what I really need is some food."

"Let's get some chow then. With fifteen interviews to do, it'll be a while before we get another chance to eat," Gibbs agreed. He headed towards the entrance, walking briskly with Tony on his six.

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Gibbs handed Tony half the profiles. "You take these. I'll do the rest. We leave Simpson, Pine and Bartlett until last."

"Let them stew?" Tony asked, already knowing that's exactly what they were doing. Knowing Gibbs, he'd probably stare at them silently until they broke and confessed all.

The Marines were being retained in an empty cafeteria large enough that the MPs could seat them far apart. Tony stood in the doorway and looked over the fifteen men, hoping he could pick out Sgt. Pine without seeming too obvious. Yes, there he was, sitting straight in his chair, just like the others. The young Marine was well built and looked like he worked out. When he glanced up questioningly at Tony's entrance, their eyes met for a second. Tony purposely acted disinterested and averted his gaze. No need to let the man know he was particularly interested in him. The problem was, there was something vaguely familiar about Sgt. Pine, yet Tony still had no idea how he knew him. It wasn't like him to have trouble placing people, even if he met them out of context, and that was maddening, especially when he felt it was important.

Tony gave the MP the name of the first Marine he wanted to talk to, and returned to the room across the hall set aside for the interviews to wait for the suspect. Gibbs was already situated in the room next door, and as he walked by, Tony could see him through the door's narrow glass window. He was sitting at a desk with a big mug of coffee at his elbow and a young Marine seated nearby. The poor guy looked scared, Tony thought with a rueful smile.

The interviews went smoothly, for the most part. A few men were reluctant to reveal some personal information, but their CO intervened and made it clear that they had to answer any and all questions posed by the NCIS special agents fully and without hesitation. Coffee, soft drinks, water and snacks were provided by an earnest young Marine who informed Tony he was a food service specialist and was looking forward to going on his first tour in a few weeks.

After they had completed six interviews each, Gibbs and Tony took a short break to compare notes.

Tony reported, "These two had sealed juvie records but have been squeaky clean since they signed up. A Lieutenant Parkinson, who hails from a small town in Pennsylvania, kept asking me questions about working with the famous Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Apparently you have quite the following back there. Anything you want to tell me, Boss?" Tony asked with an encouraging smile.

He knew that Gibbs hailed from Stillwater, Pennsylvania – he'd wheedled that information out of the man long ago – but he knew next to nothing about the town or if Gibbs kept in touch with anyone back there. He might be close to Gibbs in some ways, but there were some things the man was annoyingly close-lipped about.

Gibbs growled and asked, "Alibis?"

"All checked out. Are you going to take me there sometime? Road trip?" Tony asked with a smile.

"Take you where?"

"Back to your old stomping grounds! I want the ten-cent tour. You know, where Leroy went to high school, the ballpark where you hit your first homer, the scenic spot where you first kissed your girlfriend. The house you grew up in. You can introduce me to Aunt Bertha, who's your favorite aunt because she always has fresh apple pie warming on the stove," Tony suggested, not knowing if Gibbs even had any relatives back in his hometown.

Gibbs acted as if he hadn't heard a word Tony had said. "Anything strike you about any of them?"

Tony sighed. He'd never stop trying to wheedle information out of Gibbs, but now wasn't the time. "You mean like a gut feeling? Well, yeah, there's one guy who gave me the creeps, and I'd bet you if we dug up the dirt basement floor back home, we'd find his personal collection of bodies. He is an ordained minister at the Awakening Believers Church," Tony said, with a wise nod. "I'm telling you, when they discover he's a serial killer, the neighbors will look puzzled and say, 'But he was quiet, and such a nice man.'"

"DiNozzo!"

"And then there's Private Bartholomew, who owes child support and is having his pay garnished. He was on gate duty the first night the Stingers may have been stolen. He was acting a little squirrelly and admitted his alimony payments are killing him, but I couldn't get anything else out of him."

"Check the gate logs and see if there's anything on the security videos," Gibbs said.

"I did that," Tony said with a smile. "I already spoke to Lt. Col. Farley, and he verified that Bartholomew was at the gate from Friday midnight to 0800 Saturday morning. One truck exited shortly after his shift started Friday. Paperwork says it was carrying barrels of used oil, which were delivered to a recycling plant in Baltimore."

Gibbs looked expectantly at Tony, so he grinned and asked, "Want to guess who was driving that truck that night?"

"You want to guess how quickly I can kick your ass to the curb?" Gibbs replied.

"Okay, okay! It was Second Lieutenant Bartlett."

"That's not his usual job."

"No, it isn't. The CO says Bartlett never drives trucks and has no authority to do so. And, by the way, Sgt. Pine was not with him. He'd already left the base, like he always did on a Friday night, at 5 p.m. He was back here Sunday. I don't think he's involved in this."

Gibbs swore. "So they moved the missiles off-base right away. Damn! They'll be long gone."

"If we find out who bought them, and can track them. Time to lean on Bartlett," Tony said with a tight smile.

Second Lieutenant Reed Bartlett seemed nervous, but then he'd been waiting three hours for his turn.

Tony sat next to Gibbs, who started out by asking some background questions.

Bartlett came from a military family but he'd had enough of it, he said. He planned to open a hardware store in Vermont, to be near to his ex-wife and kids.

In response to Gibbs' questioning, he said, yes, opening a store was expensive, but this was a franchise deal, and he'd already arranged a loan.

"Moving, dealing with a demanding ex-wife? And kids are expensive," Gibbs said, nodding knowingly.

"Money is tight but I swear I'd never steal anything, especially not military property. That's not the way I was brought up," he insisted, wiping his palms on his thighs. "I wasn't on duty the night the Stingers were stolen. I never laid eyes on them, honest. Hell, I don't even know how anyone could get them off the base, security is that good," Lt. Bartlett said plaintively, beads of sweat appearing on his brow.

"How about in a truck, hidden behind a dozen used oil barrels?" Gibbs demanded.

Bartlett paled. "I don't know anything about the weapons, or if they were hidden."

"Why'd you take the truck? You weren't cleared for driving it, Lieutenant."

"I only did it as a favor. It was… easy money."

"You didn't check what you were transporting?"

After squirming around a bit, Bartlett divulged that he'd been told not to ask any questions. "I needed that money," he whined. "He threatened me. My kids…"

Gibbs wasn't about to show any sympathy. "Who paid you to drive the truck?"

Bartlett hesitated, so Gibbs slammed his fist down on the table so hard the coffee cup jumped and the coffee sloshed onto the table. "Who paid you and where did you take the cargo? Who are the buyers?" Gibbs shouted in Bartlett's face.

"Simpson, it was Simpson! He said he needed to bankroll his retirement! I don't know anything else. He kept me in the dark, so I don't know who the buyers are or anything. I swear!"

When they got the address where he had driven the truck out of Bartlett, Gibbs ordered the MP to confine him to the brig.

Once the lieutenant had been taken away in cuffs, looking very sorry for himself, Tony tapped the dial of his watch and said, "You broke him in less than five minutes, Boss. Good work."

"Tell me that after we've recovered the Stingers," Gibbs snapped.

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