Miami, Florida
Lieutenant Horatio Caine stepped out of the Miami Dade Police Department into the beautiful Florida sunshine. His sunglasses darkened his sight in the same way the latest case darkened his thoughts. The perp had butchered the victim simply because he had the power to do so. Horatio felt keenly about this because barely a century before he had lived by the same philosophy. He knew what a high could be had from such a display of raw violence. Even now as he lived the life of a CSI dedicated to justice, deep inside he felt that he would still relish the kill, mortal or not. Temptations often bombarded him, made stronger by the knowledge that he would not get caught.
For the past few decades Ray was his anchor to the upright. When Horatio had first seen the little child playing outside the orphanage, he had felt a wave of compassion for young Ray who was wearing tattered clothes and no shoes. H's own terrible experiences as an orphan more than two thousand years ago had left a lasting impression of pain in his heart. After seeing Ray every time he went pas the orphanage, Horatio adopted the five year old. They moved around a lot so no one would notice immortal was not aging. At first they were father and son, then as time past the two became brothers. By some unforeseen luck the child grew to resemble Horatio. When Ray was still young he claimed, "It's like we were meant to be family."
Then Ray was gone. Something in Horatio followed his son to the grave. In many ways it solidified his dedication to his job, but at the same time his belief in justice failed. To his team and to Yelina he seemed to grieve for his "brother" in a normal way. Secretly, however, H was taking heads left and right. The battles did not require him to think or feel. Quickenings consumed him body, mind, and soul in painful intoxication. It was how he made it through the present. One of his very old friends had actually called to warn him about a ruthless headhunter stalking in Miami. The head count had been over fifteen.
H turned his head as he heard footsteps approaching; it was Calleigh. He acknowledged her by removing his sunglasses.
"Hey, I'm heading home," she said. "Desk wanted me to tell you a package came for you. They left it in your office."
"Thank you, Calleigh," he said politely. He hadn't been expecting anything; it could probably wait until tomorrow. On the other hand, this wouldn't take very long and he had no plans for the evening.
The box sitting on his workstation was approximately two square feet. He pulled out a pocketknife and sliced through the packaging tape. Pulling back the flaps, Horatio beheld a human head neatly severed at the neck. As he looked closer he recognized the face of Dalton Jackson.
There was a note attached to the deceased's ear. H pulled it off and read:
7 6 5 4 3 2 1 – Seven through one. Seven down and you will know. To Washington, D.C., you go.
It was not a terribly cryptic or frightening note, it made him want to chuckle. It was probably nothing to worry about. Perhaps it wasn't even Dalton, he had heard of hunters using plastic surgery to unnerve victims. He had to be sure before he made another move.
Taking a quick sample, he asked Valera to run the DNA through the database. Knowing that his old acquaintance could never stay out of trouble, chances were he had a record. Usually he would be angry about the opportunities for exposure a criminal record could bring, but in this case it could save a lot of time.
They got a hit on the DNA, one Jack Dalton. The picture was of Dalton Jackson, not to mention the name and crimes listed along with the Midwest location, pointing to this not being a fake. It was time to act.
Horatio resealed the box with Dalton's head and put it in the hummer. As he drove, he called the higher-ups to ask for the week off; luckily he hadn't had a vacation in years so they said he could have two weeks if nothing major came up.
He pulled up to an abandoned warehouse by the sea. He quickly located a half-empty bottle of alcohol and some oil soaked rags in the deserted building. Then he siphoned some gas from his tank. He drenched the box and its contents in fuel and stepped back before lighting it with a cocktail bomb.
As he watched the flames dance, H made two more phone calls. The first to the airport to book a flight to D.C. The second call to one of two men he would see when he got there.
The other phone rang only once before it was picked up. "Gibbs."
"One, that you?" H asked.
"Who is this?" the other voice asked suspiciously.
"Two."
"Why you callin', Ed? If that's still your name."
"Actually it's Horatio these days. Horatio Caine."
The other man snickered. "And I thought Leroy Jethro Gibbs was unusual."
"Never mind that, this is serious. Someone is after the Seven and Dalton is already dead," H said urgently.
NCIS Building
It was 8 a.m. Monday when Special Agent DiNozzo stepped out of the elevator. He felt the familiar buzz signaling his boss was undoubtedly about to round a corner and yell for him. 1…2…3.
"DiNozzo!"
Tony turned to his boss and began to follow. Gibbs led him to Conference Room Three, and then he closed the door behind them.
"Tony, have you seen anything suspicious around work or your apartment?"
DiNozzo shrugged. "No. What's up?"
"Dalton's dead. Ed, or should I say Horatio called, he got the head with a note in the mail. He'll be here soon."
"What about the others? Lily?" asked Tony concerned.
"No word. Do you have your sword in the car?"
Tony gave a grin. "Yep, and my trench coat. You thinkin' we suit up until this is over?"
Gibbs returned the smile. "Exactly. You didn't teach a fool."
After their little meeting, Tony headed to his car. He returned with his blade safely hidden away in the folds of his long, black coat. From her desk Kate raised an eyebrow. "What are you wearing?"
"It's called a nice coat, Kate," he shot back, draping it over the back of his chair. He sat down and faced her.
"I know what it is. I meant, why are you wearing it?" She laughed, "Some girl have a fetish with Sherlock Holmes?"
"For your information Gibbs has a brown one just like it."
"So you're sucking up to him? Imitation being the sincerest form of flattery," she said.
McGee, hoping to avoid a conflict for a change, broke in, "So, Kate, why are you looking so happy this morning? Good date last night?"
Kate smiled wide and answered, "One of the best, Richard is a true gentleman. He…" She trailed off as she noticed Tony staring at a man with strawberry blonde hair; he had just stepped out of the elevator. He was wearing a nice tidy suit and had large sunglasses in his hand. A dark, full-length coat was tucked over his arm. He approached Tony, their eyes locked.
"Tony. Long time no see."
"Horatio. Seems like lifetimes."
The pair grinned at that remark and embraced heartily.
"Umm, Tony," said Kate, "you want to introduce us."
"Special Agents Kate Todd and Tim McGee. Lieutenant Horatio Caine, Miami Crime Lab."
H nodded politely. He had kept in contact with Tony through the years and thus had heard about his coworkers. Kate seemed an independent and sensible woman, and Tim appeared to have great potential. "Hey, Tony, your 'boss' around?"
"Yeah, we should probably go see him before he gets mad." Tony led Horatio to the same conference room he and Gibbs had used to chat. Jethro was seated at the far end of the long rectangular table.