Gibbs slid into the parking lot, with Bishop and McGee right beside him. All three tumbled out of the car and headed for where Torres and Langston were waiting for them. Langston was looking a bit pale, and she was leaning heavily on her uninjured leg, which had Gibbs concerned.
"What the hell happened?" Gibbs demanded.
"Driving by here on the way to the Beltway Burger when Langston spotted the truck and a van that didn't look like they belonged here," Torres said. He pointed to a sign that clearly indicated the business was closed. "Something set off her radar, so we decided to check it out. Went in low and slow, just in case they were legit, and saw two guys doing some stuff at a table that had pill making equipment. We confronted them, and damn near got shot at by a guy with a gun on the catwalk above us. Langston hit him, but he was wearing a vest, and the first two took off, shooting at us, of course. We went after them, they got away, but the catwalk guy didn't, because Langston took him out when he came around the corner."
Gibbs went over to the downed victim and glanced at him, noting the neat hole in the male's forehead and the three slugs in the center of his vest. "Don't recognize him. Any identification?"
"Couldn't find any," Langston said. "Doesn't look like no drug operation I've ever seen, especially wit the lack oh PPE, an' one of 'em pretty much denied it was drugs."
McGee showed Langston and Torres the DMV photo of Jerome Tanner. "This one of them?" he asked.
"Yup. Bit of a big mouth, ordering the other guy around," Torres said. "Something about this whole thing stinks. It's a small operation, but whatever it is, was important enough to protect it."
"Just sent Kasie a picture of the vic; she's running facial rec now," McGee said, having done that a few seconds ago.
Inside, on the table, were the makings of some kind of operation. There were no beakers or chemistry-related equipment, but there were several grinders, the pill pressing and capsule making equipment, clean and unlabeled pill bottles, a label making machine with several printed labels nearby, with the logo of a local pharmacy, but none had patient names on them, and a pharmacy pill counting tray and spatula. There were also small bottles of food coloring and what looked like a four-shelf countertop convection oven with several trays nearby. The biggest piece of equipment was on a wooden pallet and had a large bowl that looked like it rotated.
"That's a coating machine," McGee said. "Recognized it from watching How It's Made one night, when Morgan was having trouble settling down. Dog and cat food."
"Don' look like it's dog or cat food here," Langston said, taking a peek inside. "Nuttin' inside at the moment."
"What do you make of this?" Gibbs asked Langston.
"Well, it's the wrong equipment fer coke an' whatnot, an' some oh this is pharmacy equipment, like th' pill counter there," Langston said.
"Heard a few stories oh someone makin' fake meds fer desperate folks, few weeks back. Wouldn't take much."
"She's right there, boss," Bishop said. "This isn't a sophisticated operation, but it wouldn't have to be."
McGee's phone rang; it was Kasie. He put it on speaker. "Got a hit on the address," she said. "It belongs to a Smithins Carpet Company that went belly-up about a year ago, for various reasons, namely bad management. Place's been abandoned ever since, and the company managed to sell off most of their equipment, but the building is still on the market because it's in a bad location, and with the virus going on, the real estate and building boom market's kinda taken a hit these days."
"What about our dead guy?" McGee asked.
"Conner Delaney, in and out of trouble most of his life, mostly for assaults and weapons," Kasie said. "I'm not finding any connection to the other guy, but I'll keep searching."
Gibbs' phone rang; it was Vance. "Just got a call from a DEA agent, wanting to know why NCIS was shooting at one of their agents."
"Ask them why their DEA agent was running a fake medicine operation," Gibbs shot back.
"Really?"
"Got the makings of it here," Gibbs said. "Langston took one of the guards out, Jerome Tanner and his buddy took off. Got a BOLO out on them now."
"How did you find them?"
Gibbs smirked. "Langston's a game warden. If someone's parked where they're not supposed to be, she wants to know why."
"Right. Well, I will simply let the DEA agent know one of their agents slipped up. This is going to be fun," Vance said, before ending the call.
"Boss?" Torres asked.
"Jerome Tanner, undercover DEA agent," Gibbs said. "Vance got a call when we ran him."
"One problem; we have a label making machine, but no computer," McGee said. "Where's the computer?"
"Could someone be bringing it in?" Torres suggested.
"If so, who?" Bishop asked.
"Gotta be someone in th' medical field wit access t' that kinda infermation," Langston said. "Hacker, maybe, or someone who's dippin' their toes in the wrong creek."
"IT techs," McGee suggested. "Pharmacies and medical clinics hire them to set up their computers and equipment. Wouldn't take much to steal patient data, especially if money was involved."
"But if the DEA is involved, then this could be a bigger operation than we thought," Bishop said.
"Won't know until they talk to us," Torres said. "If they talk to us, and not cuss us out for destroying their case."
A car suddenly tore into the parking lot, slid to a stop, and a man in a suit tore out of the car. This resulted in all five agents suddenly yanking out their weapons and aiming it at the newcomer.
"NCIS, stop where you are!" Gibbs demanded.
"DEA!" the man yelled, raising his hands and glaring at them.
"Prove it!" Gibbs snapped. "Slowly!"
The man reached behind him and withdrew a badge that had the letters DEA on it. "Agent Monroe, and you just ruined two months of undercover work!"
"Then your undercover shouldn't have parked where they could be seen!" Gibbs shot back, letting the other agent get closer.
"That's not my problem! Your agents should have minded their own damn business!" Monroe fired back.
"It wouldn't have been a problem if we hadn't been fired upon the second we said we were federal agents!" Torres snapped, lowering his weapon but not putting it away. For some reason, Agent Monroe got his back up, and he could see it was the same with his friends, even Langston, who was staring at the DEA agent with cold eyes and a twitching lip. "Wonder what insult she's going to throw out this time?" he thought absently. "We defended ourselves! If your agent is smart, he'll contact you as soon as it's safe. If he's not, then your agent isn't as good as he thought he was!"
"It took us weeks just to even get in!" Agent Monroe snapped. He spotted Langston and sneered, "What's with the cowgirl? And where's her rope? Isn't she a little far from home to be playing Texas Ranger?"
Langston put her weapon away and smiled, sauntering over to the agent. "Honey," she drawled, dragging the word out, "if I had my rope wit me, you'd know 'bout it. An' playin' Texas Ranger? Oh honey, I ain't playin'. I may not have the nice shiny little star that th' Rangers do, but my aim is still pretty danged good, as th' fool outside can tell ya."
"You're the idiot that shot at my agent?" Agent Monroe demanded, glaring at her. "Go back to Texas, like a good little cowgirl, and leave DC to the real agents."
"Hey!" Gibbs snapped, but once again, Langston proved she could handle herself, because after tugging her hat on her head firmly, and smiling again, Agent Monroe was suddenly on the floor, trying not to throw up.
She kneeled down beside him, balancing on the balls of her feet, and clasped her hands. "I am not a cowgirl, hoss, I am the cowgirl, an' a real agent, compared t' you," she hissed. "An' I got even more bad news."
"I'm afraid to even ask," Bishop said conversationally.
"That is how we do things in Texas," Langston said. She stood up. "Boss, I'm gonna head back to NCIS an' git started on th' paperwork that comes wit a dead body. Nick, ¡todavia quiero mi hamburguesa!"
Torres grinned. "Se acerca una hamburguesa Beltaway," he replied.
"See you back at NCIS," Gibbs said, as the two agents left. He didn't quite know what was said, but had a pretty good idea, with the words hamburguesa and Beltway.
"I want that bitch charged," Agent Monroe growled.
"With what?" McGee asked. "I didn't see anything."
"Nope, me neither," Bishop said.
"All I see is an idiot on the floor," Gibbs said. "I also see a problem; I see a label making machine, but no computer to input the names of the patients. Who is it?"
"That's who we were trying to find out, before you blew it," Agent Monroe snarled.
"Yeah? Well, since you don't want our help, you'd better call MPD and get this mess cleaned up," Gibbs said, walking out of the building, his agents right behind him. "Oh, and Monroe?"
"What?"
"Don't ever insult my agents again, or what my cowgirl did will be mild compared to what I'll do."
"That was funny," Bishop said as they got in the car.
"Monroe didn't think so," McGee said. "Are we going to leave this alone, boss?"
"For now, but keep an eye on it," Gibbs said.
"Hope Langston will be okay. First one, never easy," Bishop said.
Back at NCIS, Vance was waiting for them. "I just got another phone call, this one from the DEA director, wanting to know why my agent punted their agent without warning."
"She didn't," Gibbs said.
"We didn't see anything," McGee said.
"Nope," Bishop said.
"What we did see was a dead body and a fake medicine making operation," Gibbs said. "Missing the thing that has the patients' names and information, though."
Langston came in, off the elevator, with Torres, each carrying a Beltway Burger bag, and Langston headed for her desk.
"Director," she said.
"Agent Langston. How's the leg?" Vance asked.
"Doing better," Langston said. She opened her desk drawer and dug around for a moment, then tossed Gibbs a pill bottle. "Recognize the label?"
"I do," Gibbs said. The label on the bottle for Langston's prescription painkillers was the same label they had spotted in the abandoned building. "Same label. Tylenol with codeine, fifteen miligrams. How come you didn't take them?" Gibbs asked.
"Ya saw what happened when I took the extra strength stuff, right?" Langston reminded him.
"Right."
"Yup. Second star t' the right an' straight on till mornin'," Langston said. "Think Kasie'd better take a gander at this, make sure it's th' real stuff. If it isn't, well, we got us a problem, 'cause that particular pharmacy is used by a lotta Navy an' Marine personnel, based on the uniforms I saw when I was there 'couple weeks back, for some saline spray for a sinus infection."
"Now that is interesting," Bishop said, perking up.
"You know, this is supposed to be a DEA case, and if we start stepping on some toes, someone's going to scream a little louder," McGee warned them.
"If it involves Marines and Navy personnel, it's of interest to us," Vance said, nodding. He headed upstairs. "Find out if that prescription is legit, and I'll make some calls."
"I'll find the earplugs," Torres said, causing Langston to snicker.
"Oh, and Agent Langston?" Vance said.
"Sir?"
"Little harder next time. From what I understand, Agent Monroe's golf balls only reached his stomach."
"Duly noted, sir," Langston said.
Half an hour later, they had their answer. The team was gathered in Kasie's lab and she was updating them on her results.
"Okay, so Jane's painkiller meds were real, but based on what I was told, I had a hutch," Kasie said. "I did some checking and it turns out that particular pharmacy does home delivery. It would not take much to swap out the real medication with the fake medication during delivery."
"Some of the stuff is worth a lot on the streets, especially if they're opioids or stimulants," Torres said.
"What 'bout anti-depressants, like Xanax?" Langston asked. "Once busted a guy for having a bottle oh the stuff, an' the script wasn't his."
"That, and ones like Valium and Ambien, can also fetch a high street price," McGee said.
"Ok, that I understand, but what's wit the label maker? Doin' a switcharoo is one thing, but that labeller don' make sense," Langston said.
"It does if you're desperate for more meds than what the law allows for, especially with drugs that the DEA classifies as Schedule II, which covers a lot of dangerous, highly addictive prescription drugs," Kasie pointed out. "All anyone would have to do is adjust the phone number on the prescription bottle and instead of their doctor or the pharmacist, they get the fake pharmacist or doctor, who agrees to give the patients more of the meds, but at a higher price."
"And with the patient information the pharmacy has, it wouldn't take much to find out who needs what and whether or not they're home delivery," Bishop said.
"Yikes," Langston said. She looked at Torres. "An' what exactly did we stumble inta?"
"I don't know, but if it pisses off Agent Monroe, I'm all in," Torres said.