Purgatory

Chapter 14 – Revelations

McGee heaved a frustrated sigh as he flipped through page after page from the tall stack of paper in front of him. He, along with EJ, Bishop, Andrews and Brogan had sequestered themselves in the conference room since early morning pouring over the printouts from his data search, cataloging any of the copied documents or files that contained specific keywords which might indicate a threat or risk.

"My head is killing me!" Brogan said, looking up from the pages scattered in front of him, rubbing his eyes.

'You're just a whiner," Andrews scoffed as he threw a pencil across the table at Brogan, who deftly caught it and sent is sailing back at Andrews, just missing his ear. They both broke out in huge grins.

EJ sat across the table from Bishop, focusing on the printouts in front of her, occasionally casting a covert glance in his direction. Bishop's focus was intense and he had hardly said a word all morning.

McGee immediately noticed the physical and emotional distance between EJ and Bishop as they hardly even acknowledged each other's presence. During a break he approached EJ and asked her how she was feeling, hoping if she had any concerns she would confide those in him. But EJ seemed in relatively good spirits, other than her obvious discomfort being around Bishop.

They had been at it for almost four hours as the clock on the wall approached 11:00 am. It was tedious work and in spite of Brogan's and Andrew's antics, everyone's nerves were beginning to fray a little. But McGee had known from the start this would be the hardest part of this investigation. He shook his head and refocused on the paper in front of him.

A moment later he jumped in his seat as his phone rang, startling him from his concentration. Tony DiNozzo's name flashed on the caller ID.

"Tony," McGee said.

"Hold on, McGee," Tony said. Then Tim heard him call in the background to Ziva. "I'm going to put this on speaker, McGee," he said, "and you need to do the same."

"OK," McGee responded.

He looked up at the others in the room who were watching him. "It's Tony. He wants this on speaker." They all nodded.

"OK Tony, you're on speaker."

"Hey everyone," Tony said. Everyone spoke up, acknowledging they could hear him.

Tony continued, "Ziva came across some intelligence that seems too coincidental to your case to ignore so we wanted to give you a heads-up. Go ahead, Ziva."

Ziva David's voice came over the speaker. "Three days ago Army Criminal Investigations Division reported that a BGM-71 TOW missile was stolen from Joint Base Lewis-McChord in Tacoma."

"Holy shit," Bishop hissed.

"What?" EJ snapped her head around to Bishop, any discomfort between them gone.

"The TOW is a ground to ground anti-tank weapon. It's small, portable and deadly. The Army used them a lot when I was in Kunar Province in Afghanistan," Bishop explained. "This is bad news."

"Yes, it is," came Ziva's voice over McGee's phone. "And, if we learned anything from Gibbs," she said, " it is that there is no such thing as a coincidence."

At Ziva's comment McGee shot a glance over at EJ. He could see in her eyes the mention of Gibbs had rekindled her grief for a moment.

"So," it was Tony's voice back on the speaker, "we wanted to pass that along as soon as we got the intel."

Bishop spoke up, "Thanks, Ziva. Thanks, Tony. We'll keep you posted." He nodded to McGee and Tim ended the call.

Everyone sat silent, stunned, staring at the table in front of them.

"Could that missile be used against one of the docked subs?" McGee asked Bishop.

"It would have minimal effect," Bishop said. "As an anti-tank weapon it's nasty. But the subs are so huge and their hull plating is so thick to withstand the water pressure at significant depths that the worst it could do is put a big dent in the side. But it couldn't sink a sub."

"What about the nuclear missiles the sub's carrying?" EJ asked. "Could it blow them up?"

"No," Brogan shook his head. "The missiles aren't armed when the subs are docked. And like Chris said, the TOW probably couldn't breach the hull. An even if it did and it damaged a Trident missile, it wouldn't explode. The greatest risk would be if a warhead was damaged and there was a radiation leak. But the subs are designed to contain radiation if a warhead is damaged."

"We need to get this information to the Bangor base commander ASAP," EJ said.

"Saddle-up everyone," Bishop said. "I'll call ahead to Bangor and let them know we're coming. It's about time we talked to people there."

The drive from Bremerton to the Bangor sub base took just under an hour as both cars weaved down country roads that passed through forests and fields. Bishop's team took point while McGee and EJ followed. EJ was, once again, struck by the beauty of the area.

Upon their arrival they were met by the base commander whom they briefed. He then turned them over to the base's head of security, a Lieutenant Commander Cozort. Cozort stood well over six feet tall, even taller than Bishop. His burley exterior was in stark contrast to his jovial attitude. His smile was as large as the rest of him and he laughed easily, putting EJ and everyone else at ease almost immediately. She liked the man.

"So, what you're telling me is right now we don't know anything else about the TOW missile other than it was stolen," Cozort said.

"Yeah. Sorry we don't have more intel Lieutenant Commander," Bishop said and blew out a puff of air.

"Hey, better that, than nothing," Cozort replied.

"Is there any possibility that this type of missile could be fired at the base from across the canal?" EJ asked.

"The distance is well within it's range," Bishop said. "But it just doesn't make sense. Anyone knowledgeable enough to steal a TOW would know that it's effectiveness against a sub would be negligible."

"It's pretty sparsely populated over there," Cozort said. "And we monitor the satellite surveillance feed closely for unusual activity. The only close town is Quilicene and other than that, there are just small farms and residential homes."

EJ froze at Cozort's mention of the town of Quilicene. Something snapped into place in her memory and immediately she turned to McGee.

"Tim," she barked, "can you look-up archived case information from your tablet?"

"Yeah, I've got a wireless connection running," he said, a quizzical look on his face. Then his eyes flashed with understanding. "You remember where you know Quilicene from, don't you!"

"Maybe," she said, her voice tense.

Everyone stared at EJ and McGee, confused at the sudden shift of their attention.

"Lookup the Rathburn case file," she said.

"Was that the chemical bomb case you guys cracked about five or six months ago?" McGee asked.

"Yeah. That's the one."

"What am I looking for?"

"Look for documents about the properties owned or leased by his corporations."

"I'm on it."

"EJ," Bishop said, quirking an eyebrow, "care to share?" Cozort and the other agents nodded in unison.

"Last year, just after you transferred to Bremerton," she began, looking at Bishop, "we pulled a case where some home-grown environmental activist group was building a make-shift chemical bomb. Their plan was to explode the device in a populated area, releasing poisonous gas they knew could kill hundreds, if not thousands, of people."

"Why would a self-proclaimed environmental group want to release poison gas?" Cozort asked. "What was their objective?"

"Their communiques stated they felt the only way to bring attention to the environmental damage caused by, what they called, the military-industrial complex, was through violent protest," EJ explained. "They believed that releasing a chemical bomb which killed a lot of people would get their agenda in front of the public."

"You're kidding!" Cozort exclaimed. "That's insane. What happened?"

"We were able to track down some leads and caught up with the bombers and stopped them from exploding the device. Two of my agents were exposed to the gas, but they're recovering."

EJ continued, "We followed the money trail and traced funding to a shell corporation owned by a wealthy business man named Emile Rathburn. Rathburn is known for his outspoken criticism of the impact of the military on the environment."

"Did you find this Rathburn guy?" Brogan asked.

"No." EJ said. "By the time we caught up to the bombers we think Rathburn had figured out we were close, so he went underground. No one has seen him since."

"Got it!" shouted McGee, waving his free hand at the group. "I found it. Geeze, you were right EJ."

She rushed over to McGee and looked over his shoulder.

"One of Rathburn's holding companies has a 10 year lease on a farm property with the mailing address of Quilicene, Washington," McGee said as he scanned the document on his tablet's screen.

"This is no damn coincidence," Andrews scowled.

EJ stepped back from McGee, staring hard at the floor, her mind moving at light-speed, correlating the information they had obtained so far.

"OK," she said. "What do we have? We've got a crazy environmental activist that has no qualms in killing lots of people to make his point."

Brogan jumped in," And he wants to make a big statement. The TOW missile fits in with that. But if his plan is to attack a sub, that won't accomplish his goal. The missile won't do enough damage."

"And," Cozort, added, "even if he did attack a sub, the media would never know about it. It's too remote out here and the base is always locked-up tighter than a drum."

Bishop looked thoughtful, "So his target can't be the subs or the Trident missiles because he just can't do any damage or hurt anyone. The warheads aren't armed."

"So, he must have another target in mind," Andrews said, as he slumped down in a chair next to the conference table.

"Oh, no!" McGee moaned, shaking his head at his tablet computer, his eyes wide.

Everyone snapped their heads around to stare at him.

EJ stepped back to his side and said softly, "What is it, Tim?"

McGee looked over at Cozort. "Lieutenant Commander, how are the missiles' nuclear warheads transported to the base?"

"By truck," Cozort said.

"Over the same roads we drove to get here?"

"Yes. Why?"

McGee ignored his question. "Are the truck transportation schedules stored on your computer server?"

"Yes," Cozort said, still puzzled at McGee's line of questioning.

"The warhead transportation schedules were among the data copied by the hacker," McGee said. "When is the next shipment coming to the base, Lieutenant Commander?"

EJ looked over at Cozort and saw the jovial man's face turn into a sour frown.

"Tomorrow," Cozort said.

"Sir," McGee said, "If a TOW missile blew-up a truck transporting a nuclear warhead, what would happen."

Cozort's eyes bulged as he stared at McGee, sweat breaking out on his brow. "The warheads wouldn't explode, they can't," he stuttered.

He swallowed hard as he continued, "But the breach of a warhead's housing would release a radioactive cloud blanketing the area. The winds from the Olympic mountains would blow the plume eastward, right into the Seattle / Tacoma area."

"My God," Bishop breathed. "There are over three and a half million people in the Puget Sound Basin."

EJ finished his thought, "And that means thousands of people will die."

A deathly quiet surrounded the group as they all stood silently, each wrapped in their own horrific thoughts.

Suddenly the room exploded in activity as each of them moved into crisis mode; years of training and experience taking over.

"I'll call the base commander and brief him. I'm sure he'll move the base to Alert Level Alpha," Cozort said, as he pulled out his phone and walked over the corner of the room.

"I'm going to pull up the warhead transportation schedule and itinerary," McGee said.

"EJ," Bishop said, pulling her out of her thoughts, "call Director Craig and ask him to arrange for a strike team to stand by." She nodded, glad that Bishop was taking charge. "I'm going to call the Bremerton commander and brief him."

Ten minutes later everyone had accomplished their tasks. Quiet had descended on the room once again as the action lulled, everyone considering what they needed to do next.

EJ walked across the room to where McGee worked on his tablet and dropped down into the chair beside him, letting out a long sigh. He glanced over at her, a look of concern flashing across his face. She smiled and nodded at him, letting him know she was fine. He relaxed, smiled back and then returned his attention to the screen in his hand.

A few minutes later EJ heard a commotion on the other side of the room. Looking up she saw two solders dressed in military police uniforms speaking with Cozort, their commander. They had handed him something and all three were scrutinizing it intently. Her curiosity went up a notch when she saw Cozort wave Bishop over to join their discussion.

Trying not to draw attention to herself, EJ stood up, stretched, then yawned and nonchalantly sidled over toward the group, stopping by the conference table when she got within earshot of the four men.

"Tell me again where this came from," Bishop said to the tallest of the MP's.

"A small boat sir," the young MP responded. "It breached the security exclusion zone yesterday afternoon. We intercepted it and brought it ashore."

The other MP who was much shorter than his partner looked over at Cozort. "We were going to inform you at this afternoon's briefing Lieutenant Commander. But when Alert Level Alpha was declared a few minutes ago we followed protocol and brought this to you ASAP."

"And you're sure the motor was running, even though no one was in the boat?" Cozort asked.

"Yes sir," the taller MP assured him. "I was on the interception team."

"What do you think it means, sirs?" the shorter MP directed his question at both Bishop and Cozort as they looked down at the paper in Cozort's hands.

EJ could tell it was a large photograph, but she was too far away to make out the details. She inched a little closer to the men, craning her neck to get a better view without being obvious.

"I don't know, Petty Officer," Bishop responded to the MP's question. "The first set of numbers look like a date – and if they are, then it's yesterday's date."

"And," Cozort added, "the second ten numbers might be a phone number. Maybe the phone number of the boat's owner."

"That makes sense," Bishop nodded. "But what does that last part mean?" As the four men stood in silent confusion EJ's attention diverted to Brogan and Andrews across the table from her. They were looking at a map of the base and arguing about something.

As she focused on Brogan and Andrews she barely heard Bishop as he continued, "Well, let's try it out and see if it is a phone number". He pulled his phone out of his pocked and dialed the number.

EJ heard her phone ring. Grabbing it she thumbed the answer button, "This is Barrett."

There was no response, just dead air. "Hello," she said. "Hello, who's there?"

She pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at the caller ID. It read Christopher Bishop. Her anger flared and she snapped her head toward Bishop, preparing to lecture him that now was not the time for pranks, but stopped cold when she caught sight of the four men. Bishop stood, phone to his ear, staring at her, mouth open, eyes wide. Cozort and the two MP's mirrored Bishop's expression. She knew something was wrong, seriously wrong.

EJ dropped the phone to her side, taking a cautious step toward the group of men. "What?" she said tentatively.

When none of the four men responded her heart started to race, a knot curling in her stomach as alarm bells went off in her head.

"What is it?" her voice cracked, almost shouting, bringing Brogan's and Andrew's argument to a halt as they looked up at her. Out if the corner of her eye she saw McGee jerk to his feet, walking swiftly toward her.

Bishop took the phone away from his ear, dropping his arm to his side. Still, no one spoke.

"Chris," EJ pressed out from tight lips, "you'd better tell me what the fuck is going on or I'm gonna make you regret you were ever born."

EJ's threat seemed to break through Bishop's trance as he shook his head and whispered, "Sorry, EJ. Come over here."

Not only did EJ step over to the group of four men, but Brogan, Andrews and McGee stepped up as well.

"EJ," Bishop began, "I've got a photograph here of the inside a small boat that was intercepted yesterday by base security."

Bishop had not shown her the photograph and her patience with him was reaching it's end.

Bishop continued, "There was no one in the boat, but the motor was running."

"OK, so what?", EJ said, her voice higher than she had intended.

Still obstructing her view of the photo, Bishop said, "This is a picture of some numbers and letters painted onto the center seat of the boat. There seems to be three parts. We think the first part is yesterday's date and the second part is," he paused, "your phone number."

"What the hell..." EJ croaked. "Are you sure?"

"I just dialed those numbers and you answered your phone", Bishop said.

EJ's mind was spinning. What was going on? What was her phone number doing on a boat retrieved from the middle of the Hood Canal invading a secured nuclear submarine base? Suddenly her world - already a complete mess - was spinning utterly out of control. She had to be dreaming. Things couldn't really get this crazy.

"EJ. EJ!" Bishop snapped his fingers in front of her face, pulling her back to the present. "Do you know anything about this?"

She looked up at Bishop, then at all of the questioning faces surrounding her. Her eyes landed back on Bishop as her anger flared.

"What the fuck, Chris. Are you kidding? How would I know anything about this. I don't even know what this is! Let me see the goddamned photo," she spat, snatching it out of his hand before he could react.

Bringing it up to to her face she gasped. Her legs started to tremble and her vision blurred as she stumbled backwards into McGee who was already stepping up to catch her. As Tim supported her weight she heard him take in a sharp breath. "Oh, my God!" he whispered. She could tell he had seen the photograph over her shoulder and knew what she knew.

"What?" Bishop and Cozort said simultaneously, stepping forward to help support EJ.

As EJ's head cleared and her strength returned she struggled upright, McGee's hand still on her back. She looked down at the photograph in her hand unable to speak. Grief, joy, despair, hope, all boiled inside her and she found it hard to breathe.

Bishop was right. On the boat seat, scrawled in paint, was a three part message. The first part was yesterday's date and the second part was definitely her phone number. The third part read … 'Rule #1'.

She looked up at McGee. "It's Gibbs," she whispered. "He's alive!"

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