Tony swore it looked like the printer had gone haywire and puked up a ream of paper. Pages littered his desk. The agent, however, took his time as he read through each printout. This was Purcell's handiwork, each page one more thorough listing of some nasty bit of work that the CIA consultant had had his slimy little fingers all over.
Thanks to Joe Tabaraz, the contact he and Kate had made in Ciudad del Este, Tony was able to get far more than he'd dreamed possible on their presumed dead scumbag. And now, as he analyzed the activity in each of these , he found that for a dead man, Purcell had an awful lot of thriving enterprises.
So, Señor Purcell, he muttered in a heavily accented voice. Who you find to run your businesses for you? He dropped the accent as he picked up one page in particular. Or are you still running them yourself? Tell me, just what kinds of documents do you forge anyway? Death certificates, by any chance?
He swiveled back to face his computer and began a second search on document forgeries. While the search ran, something tickled the back of his brain and he closed his eyes and thought for a moment. Suddenly he remembered a case from roughly eighteen months ago, a document forgeries case that had been taken out of their hands. The bust had gone south, a bad CIA agent had been involved. And try as he might he couldn't remember any more. But the coincidence was too great, and Gibbs didn't believe in coincidences. Tony wasn't sure he believed in this particular coincidence either.
Time to go talk to someone brilliant and beautiful, he thought. He gathered up the pertinent pages from his searches, quickly arranged the rest in an order that made sense to him and headed off to the lab.
McGee, where the hell are we? Gibbs was shouting over the noise of the car on the dirt track. It couldn't be called a road; that distinction was left to land that was flatter and firmer than the potholed path the Intrepid now jounced along.
Boss, according to the map Abby found in the wrapping of the box, we're almost there. McGee had a page spread out in front of him, matching it up with the computer screen and GPS locator system in front of him.
Almost where? Hell? We've been driving for two hours in the middle of nowhere!There should be a farmhouse just up ahead. McGee checked the map on the screen one more time, just as the vehicle careened to a stop. He looked up to see an old barn roughly fifty yards ahead of him, through the sparse trees. The dilapidated farmhouse was a short distance past that.
Let's go. Nice and easy. Gibbs unholstered his weapon and climbed slowly out of the car, just as his phone began to ring.
Tony walked into Abby's lab just as the dark-haired girl was removing Michaelson's thumb from the fuming chamber. He raised his eyebrows and gave her a slightly skeptical look.
Fingerprinting our thumb, Abbs?As a matter of fact, Tony, I am. And I have a couple of partials here. I don't know how good they are, but we'll see. She carefully dusted and lifted the prints from the severed digit while Tony looked on, vaguely nauseated. Once she had the prints loaded into the scanner, she turned to him.
Now, Tony, what can I do for you? She stood there with one hand on her hip, waiting.
Tell me what you know about document forging.You want the beginner's lecture or the advanced course? She brushed past him with a smirk and started the computer matching for the partial fingerprints she pulled off the thumb.
Abby, I'm serious. I think forged documents may play a key role in what we're up against. He moved to stand next to her, showing her the evidence he found so far.Well, duh, Tony! Abby took the papers from him but didn't look at them. I knew that part. It looks like diplomatic forgeries for the most part. Gibbs seems to think that that's how they're getting people and weapons into the country. She glanced down at the pages she held.
Remember that case that we had eighteen months ago? The one where we first met Leah? I think that's connected to this, too. Tony rifled through the pages in Abby's hands and pulled one sheet in particular.
How do you come up with that, Tony? Abby was still ignoring the pages she held, choosing instead to focus on the man in front of her.
Leah said that her forgery bust, the one she took over from us, got screwed by a CIA agent. Ketterer, to be precise. Two CIA agents with forgery deals going? That can't be a coincidence. Tony tapped the pages in Abby's hand.
But Ketterer is dead, he couldn't have been behind Purcell's death at the CIA! Abby was still trying to work it through. Tony found one more sheet in the stack and showed it to her.
Doesn't mean there wasn't someone higher up than both Purcell and Ketterer, running both of them. One based in the US one based in the TBA. Look, all of Purcell's businesses are still active, so someone's kept that going. I need to find out what Ketterer was into here so we can unravel this from both ends.
Before Abby could say another word, her computer chimed an alert. No way! she exclaimed.
No way, what? Tony looked up curiously.
I got a match, or well, mostly a match to one of the partials from the thumb. Abby tapped away at the machine and frowned.
What's wrong?
The goth girl turned to him and sighed. I have good news and I have bad news. The good news is we can now tie Paolo Muñez to something other than Gibbs' attempted OD. The bad news is, it won't stand up in court.
Tony cocked his head at her. You wanna run that by me again?Paolo's finger print is on the thumb, but it's only a partial and there aren't enough points of reference for it to stand up in court. Abby shook her head. I gotta call Gibbs and let him know.
Tony stood staring at the fingerprint match while Abby dialed Gibbs' cell phone. He was only half-listening to the conversation while he looked around the lab.
Hey, Gibbs. Got a sort-of-match on a fingerprint lifted from Michaelson's thumb I mean it's not a complete match, at least as far as the courts are concerned. But I'm pretty sure it's his. Paolo's! Ow! Gibbs! Is that gunfire?
Tony's head snapped around to stare at the lab tech. Abbs, is what gunfire?
Abby clicked the call over to her speakerphone and the lab was filled with the sounds of gunshots.
Tony yelled, but there was no response. Suddenly the line went dead.
Abby, where the hell are they? Find them, now! Tony was pulling out his phone, watching as Abby's fingers raced across the keyboard to located the GPS signal.
Got em! They're—I'm calling for back-up, Tony cut her off and was about to dial when it started to ring. He glanced at the caller ID.
Gibbs, thank God, he muttered, and pressed the button to take the call. Boss, are you all right?Sorry, DiNozzo, it's not Jethro. Tony ground his teeth at the familiar voice on the other end of the line.
Tony muttered under his breath. He flipped the phone shut. Abbs, call the local LEOs and let them know about Gibbs. I think I've got a problem. As he spoke, the phone in his hand rang again.
Reading the caller ID, he flipped it open and pressed the button to take the call. This better be Gibbs or I'm going to shoot your ass.Now is that any way to answer your phone, Agent DiNozzo?Fornell, what the hell are you doing on my phone, pretending to be Gibbs?We need to talk. Now. The voice was irritatingly smooth, as if it expected to be agreed with.
Forget it. I have more important worries than you right now. Tony went to snap the phone shut but paused as he heard Fornell's reply.
More important than your life?
Reluctantly he brought the phone back to his ear. What are you playing at this time, Fornell?You're the one who's playing, DiNozzo. In the CIA's backyard. Not too smart, if you like breathing.
Come on, out with it. Just say what's on your mind and get it over with. Tony had no patience left and it showed.
Drop what you're doing, DiNozzo. Fornell bit out the words.
Forget it. Why don't you tell me what you know, instead? We both know I'm going to find out eventually.
There was a sigh on the other end of the line. On your way to your grave, most likely.I haven't got time for this. Nice chatting with you. Once again, he went to flip the phone closed. Once again, Fornell's voice stopped him.
Where's Gibbs?Busy. If you don't mind? Tony grit his teeth and tried not to spit the words.
You asked if he was all right. Is he all right? Fornell actually sounded concerned.
I don't know. Good-bye, Fornell. For a third time he tried to end the call.
There was a pause. If Gibbs is in trouble then you and I had better have a talk. Meet me Tony could almost hear the wheels turning in the older man's head as he thought. Meet me at the DC Beans four blocks from your office. Fifteen minutes. The line went dead.
Tony stared at the phone in frustration. Then he turned to Abby who was on the phone with local police.
he inquired softly. She looked up and shrugged. He read it as no news yet.
I gotta go. I have to meet someone. I'll keep trying Gibbs, okay? he whispered. She nodded and he turned and left the lab.
Two blocks from the office he was still intent on dialing Gibbs, still unable to get through to either him or McGee. He barely heard the gunshot that sent him dropping to the ground.