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Snoops and Spooks
"Hello, Sarah," said Riley, extending his hand out to me. He flashes his perfect teeth in my direction. "It's a pleasure to have you back."
"Thanks, Aaron," I say smiling back. It's not hard to be nice to Riley, like it is to Webb. He's generally a likeable guy. Heck, if I didn't know he was helping whoever's killing the 1986s, then I'd probably make friends with him. If Harm were here, he'd point out that we'd probably become more.
"Where's Commander Rabb?" he asks, generally friendly. We're sitting inside his office of the NCIS wing. They've given me a desk in the bullpen but so far I've spent about a grand total of 2 minutes and 47 seconds there, and all that time was them actually showing me my desk.
"He had some work to do on the Delissari Case," I lie easily. "He had to remain behind. But I was interested in this case and Webb said that you might need an extra hand."
I flash him a smile that I'm sure reeks of phoniness but he's so phony himself that he probably doesn't notice.
He smiles back. "Well, I'm glad you're here."
I'm about to say something, I don't know what, when his intercom turns on. I can instantly recognize the voice of Ms. Lindsey, his secretary.
"Sir, there's a gentleman here to see you. He wouldn't give me any identification, but he told me to give you an envelope–"
"Thanks, Angie, I'll get it as soon as I'm done with the Colonel," he says quickly, almost nervously. "Just keep it in your desk."
"I have many letters here, why don't I just deliver it?"
"Really, Angie," Riley cuts of quickly. "I'll receive it later."
"He told me to give it to you straight away."
"Well, I'll take it later. I'll pick it up after lunch," Riley says irritably.
"Wouldn't you like me to bring it to you?"
"No," said Riley quickly. Wow, he looks nervous. Is that sweat on his forehead? "I'm sure it's of no importance."
"But the gentleman said that it was very im–"
"Dammit, Angie, I'm with the Colonel right now, I do not want the letter!" Riley screamed.
I stare at him. What the hell?
My mind clicks on, a buzz of questions developing in my head.
Someone dropped off an envelope for Riley. Who?
Lindsey doesn't know.
What does the envelope contain?
Obviously something of great importance or Riley wouldn't make such a fuss.
Why IS he making such a fuss?
Because I'm here.
What's in it?
I guess I'm about to find out.
"Ow," I exclaim, my eye watering. I blink back a tear and stare at a little fold out mirror on the desk. One of my pure blue eyes is now a smoky grey color.
"Nice," I whisper.
"I thought you'd think so," laughs Catherine Gayle, whirling me around in the swiveling office chair. I'm in the CIA headquarters getting my disguise fit into Commander Evan Hart's. They say they don't have to change my appearance . . . much. Yeah, right.
"Now Commander could you please put in the other one," says a lady named Edna with apparently no last name. She's helping me into my disguise. So far she's been doing pretty well. I'm in the process of having my eyes changed to grey; I've got very vibrant chestnut brown hair with golden highlights running through it. Oh yeah, and here's the kicker, I have a marine haircut. A Navy with a marine haircut. I still can't understand it.
I run my hand along my freshly cut head, wincing as I feel the short strands.
"Oh, it'll grow back," mumbled Edna irritably as she fixes my other eye. "Honestly, you lawyers, always picking at the details."
I grin, looking at myself in the mirror. I look really different. I don't say that in a bad way. Sure, I could do without the haircut; it makes my ears look like they're sticking out, but everything else is going smoothly.
"Hey, Catherine," I call her as I turn to see her helping Edna pick out which clothes should come with me. They've photographed all of Hart's clothes and are now adjusting them to fit my size. If I were Hart, I would have deeply objected. I don't think I would have wanted a pack of spooks photographing my underwear and then stretching it so it'd fit someone else.
"Yeah, Harm?" she asks, turning around. She walks over to my chair and Edna goes to busy herself with something, leaving us as alone as we'll probably get to be.
"You still haven't told me why you're here," I say with a slight frown. "Don't get me wrong, I like the company, but don't you have work?"
I stare at her and she hesitates for a split second before answering, "I have work."
"Then . . ?" I prod.
She smiles slightly. "I'm working right now."
I stare at her and then my eyes expand. "You're not . . . coming with me, are you?"
"You need back up," she says grinning. "And who better than having a girlfriend to be with you whenever you're not working?"
"But," I stutter quickly. "Have you even worked in a field operation? I mean, the desk and undercover don't quite compare."
"Well," she said flashing me a smile as she exited out of the room so I could get dressed, "I hear I'm learning from the best."
"Hey, Sarah, I'm going for my lunch break," Riley says coming up from behind me. "Would you like to join me?"
I finally got to try out that new desk of mine (like I was dying to) and now I'm sitting typing away on the computer they also hooked me up with, trying to form a connection between all the victims and Riley. They don't add up.
Before I took on the mission, I was equipped with Riley's full biography. I've got everything but his mother's cousin's neighbor's underwear size. And, from where I stand, everything is pristine. Spotless, too good be true.
As a kid, he got straight As. He played on his high school basketball team, went out for college football, and get this, after attending Princeton; he went to Harvard, before settling on WestPoint. He's not overweight, not under, just right. He doesn't even have a speeding ticket to his name.
He's got one sister, who lives in Connecticut with her perfect little family, and they talk once every three days. He lives in a very comfortable apartment, not far from the NCIS building.
Also not far from the Santa Monica hotels, I observe. But, as Webb said, he being the Phantom is absolutely out of the question. When Lieutenant Commander Lyndon Tang was being murdered in Detroit, Riley was giving a speech to the Committee on Anti-Drug action.
He's a modern day saint.
"No thanks," I reply smiling. "How about a rain check? Tonight, maybe?"
Well, what else am I going to do? Go and visit Harm? Or should I say, Commander Evan Hart.
"I'd love that," he replied, also grinning. "But I can't make it tonight. I have . . . previous engagements. Perhaps, tomorrow night?" he said and then quickly added. "If you're not busy."
"I think I can squeeze you in," I replied. "See you in a bit."
"You're not going to grab some lunch?" he asked, leaning on my desk. My desk.
"I'm not very hungry," I say, somewhat modestly. I had smuggled a Beltway Burger underneath my jacket and into a compartment in my desk. "Besides," I lie quickly. "I don't eat a lot."
"I can see that," Riley said, his eyes trailing up and down my body. If I wasn't on a mission and he wasn't leaning on my desk, which I do not intend to break, he would be on the floor getting the crap beat out of him.
Damn, he's one lucky snoop.
"Is there anything you would like me to do?" I ask briskly, in the back-to-marine-work-mode. I catch his raising eyebrow, "while you're on lunch break."
Riley grins and turns around, pushing open the swinging door. "What you're doing is just fine."
"Hello, Agent Rabb," O'Neil greets me, a secretive smile spreading to her lips. I raise my eyebrow. This is certainly an interesting sight. Catherine Gayle and Beth O'Neil sitting at a table, in the coffee room of CIA Headquarters (I, personally, never knew they had one) drinking a cup of coffee and chatting as if they were two high school girls waiting to be asked out to the dance.
"Beth," I greet. "And Catherine. Amazing coincidence that you both just happen to be here."
"Oh, it's no coincidence, Harm," Catherine says smiling. "You know, we were catching up, talking about the mission." She catches my eye. "And telling our favorite Harm stories."
"Yes," Beth buts in before I can say anything. "I find your and Catherine's marriage very interesting Harm." She grins at me. "Especially the fact that you hit on me after you two were basking in marital bliss."
"Do you two have anything better to do than gossip?" I ask tiredly, but also filled with wonderment at the same time. Go figure, two spooks would get together after, no, I remind myself, right in the middle of work, to go talk about who was cheating on who.
"No, not really," Catherine sighs. "But we do have some questions concerning your love life, Harm."
"As a wife, you should know these things," I chide.
"Funny, Harm," she says, grinning sarcastically. "But seriously, what's going on with you and Mac?"
"Yeah," Beth chimed in. "We're just dying to know."
I grin. "You'd think two people in the CIA, furthermore, one of them in the communications department would be able to figure out what was going on between to lowly lawyers," I say and then catch myself, "if anything was going on between them."
"Oh, we've already got all the info," Catherine said, boredom etched into her voice. "At least, most of it."
"Yes," Beth said nodding, "and we're very interested to know why Mac slept at your apartment last week."
"Which time?" I ask idiotically.
They both squeal
"You mean there was a second!" exclaimed Catherine.
No . . . yes . . . do you count last night?
"Well, nothing happened," I growled defensively. "It was snowing really hard, the roads were terrible, and–"
"You couldn't stand the thought of her getting hurt," Beth finishes for me. She and Catherine shoot each other meaningful glances.
"Oh, cut it out!" I say crossly. "Mac and I aren't like that. Things are . . ." I struggle for the words, "complicated."
"Complicated in a good way or complicated in a good way?" Catherine asks. The squealing has died down a bit. For now. Now they're just genuinely interested . . . if two women can be that without dying to know.
"Complicated in an I-don't-know way," I replied groggily. "And why are you here, O'Neil? I was told to come here to talk about the assignment," I stress. "Not about Mac and I."
"Men," Beth sighs. "They're just crippled when it comes to multitasking."
"Tell me about it," Catherine rolls her eyes.
"About the Assignment," I say loudly, but they just ignore me.
"Do you think Mac knows?" Beth asks.
"She would have to be blind if she didn't see it," Catherine responds.
"Enough!" I holler. "Beth, why are you here?"
"Tisk, tisk," admonishes Beth, "I'm afraid I just haven't raised you with manners."
"What are you talking about?" I ask, my head suddenly feeling very fuzzy.
"Can't you recognize your own mother?" asks Beth grinning.
I stare at her for a minute, and then I turn to Catherine to see if she's joking. She isn't.
"You can't be my mother," I spit out. "There's no way you're old enough. You don't look old enough."
"I'm glad someone thinks so," Beth says grinning. "But I'm supposed to be relatively young," she stares at me with steely eyes. "I had you at fifteen."
"My God," I sigh. "So you're in this too?"
I turn my stare towards Catherine. "I don't mean to be rude, but I don't need all this back up."
Catherine stands up, glaring at me hard and then walks out the door followed by Beth. "That's not your decision to make."
"Ms. Lindsey," I say in a sickeningly sweet voice. Ms. Lindsey turns towards me looking a little hassled. I know the feeling, but her load of files has yet to even compare with mine back at JAG.
"Yes, ma'am?" she asks, a little coolly. I suppose she's not quite over Riley blowing his top. I can't say I blame her.
"Agent Riley sent me to take his envelope to him," I say calmly. Inside, my heart is beating fast.
"That's funny," Ms. Lindsey says turning her head to look at me square in the eye, "because he picked it up half an hour ago."
Oh . . . Damn.
"Oh, I don't mean the envelope you were talking about earlier," I lie quickly. "He wanted the ones with the DNA samples of each victim."
"Well, I'll call you when they're in then," Ms. Lindsey snapped. "Until then, could you excuse me Colonel? I do have a lot of work to do."
"Sure," I said briskly, walking away from her desk.
Okay, so Riley's already picked up the envelope. I didn't even see him . . . he must be good. So, the envelope has to be . . .
In his office. I stand in front of Riley's office and gently try the door. It's locked. I turn around to make sure no one in the bullpen is watching me. Most of them have gone out to lunch and the rest could care less about me.
I turn back to the doorknob. Time for a little trick that I learned in the Corp. I jiggle the knob hard, making it move up and down with my hand and then I pushed the nail of my index finger of my other hand into the keyhole.
It hurts like heck, as the nail bends to receive the shape that key is, 'but,' I grin with satisfaction as the door opens. 'So totally worth it.'
I enter the office. It, just like Riley's past, is clean, absolutely empty of any incriminating evidence. The book shelves are in proper order. The books are even in alphabetical order. His desk is tidy, tidy being an understatement. It's practically bare except for a framed photo.
I go to his desk, sit myself down in his chair, and begin my search. There are four drawers underneath the desk, two on either side. I open the first one on the left but there's only supplies of pencils, pens, erasers, note pads, nothing strange.
I open the bottom left one. There are numerous files, most not even relating to the case. They must be cases Riley has solved in the past . . . or hasn't.
I shiver a bit. That's really creepy.
I turn to the right side of the desk. It's completely symmetrical to the other side, with the first drawer containing glue, paper weights, extra ink cartridges, and other such office things and the second containing more files. I frown. He has to be some sort of robot.
I'm about to close the fourth drawer, the one with all the files in it, when I notice something. Something unsymmetrical to the other bottom drawer. There's a small little notch in the drawer, right at the side, and barely recognizable. I run my hand along it, and hear something click. All of a sudden, there's a whirring sound and out of a slit at the back of a drawer, an envelope shoots out.
To say I'm amazed would be an understatement. This is an excerpt out of Nancy Drew.
I pick up the envelope. Riley's names written on the front, the address of the NCIS building, and it was dated today. There was no return address, but then again, the sender delivered it in person.
I open the envelope carefully. Inside is a single sheet of white paper. I turn it over so I can read the printing.
What the . . .
"Sarah!"
My head cocks up. Riley's at the doorway, his eyes bulging in fury.
Oh shit.
A/N: Hey people, sorry this chapter was a long time coming, but I made it longer than usual to make up for it. Alright, things are rolling along now; we're ready to get into some action. And I'm ready to continue . . . if you review.