It was six-thirty in the morning when Henrietta Lange stepped through the ornate, wooden doors of the old Spanish Mission. She was in need of finishing up a few bits of paperwork before her phone conference with Director Vance scheduled later that morning, and she preferred the quiet hours before her staff arrived at work. As she passed through the arched corridor, moving into the main area, she noted the silence that dominated the space. It was a marked difference from the pace she'd grown accustomed to observing. The Naval Criminal Investigative Service's Office of Special Projects was nothing if not a lively place to work. From the mundane to the extraordinary, her teams encountered it all, taking each challenge thrown their way in stride.

The general hustle and bustle of the OSP had been even more energetic than normal, courtesy of the upcoming Fourth of July festivities. Discussions of plans and whispers of parties flitted from one side of the office to the other. Conversations carried down from the second floor balcony or echoed upwards from the first floor. Their excitement was palpable, and it only grew more so as the holiday approached. Even the Mission building wasn't to be spared. She had arrived the previous morning to find the railings wrapped in red, white, and blue streamers. The balustrades sported a similar motif of banners while little firework shaped centerpieces and fans speckled the rest of the office space. Hetty pressed her lips together, hiding the smile threatening to appear. As was their prerogative when it came to any holiday, Eric and Nell had taken her permission for some minor decorating as an open invitation to coat the inside with ornamentation.

Oh well, a little extra flourish never hurt anything. The petite brunette shrugged amicably, drifting to her desk at the far end of the room. She set her briefcase at its feet before strolling to the table situated against the left wall. An assortment of teas rested there, kept in stock for whenever she desired a warm cup of the liquid. Only the best of the dried leaf varieties, of course. Henrietta Lange simply didn't do bagged teas. Pure swill, in her opinion. She perused her current selection briefly, opting for a black tea blend with notes of hibiscus and rose hips then setting it on to brew. With tea on the way, she turned her attention to paperwork and readying herself for the day.

Hetty had been rapt in her review of an expense report, a second cup of tea poised in her hand, when the familiar staccato of voices that could belong to none other than her two lead agents drifted from the archway entrance.

"I'm telling you, G, you'd never know the difference," Special Agent Sam Hannah was in the middle of explaining. Tall and sinewy, with skin the color of chocolate, he stood in contrast to his partner, Special Agent Grisha "G" Callen who was of medium build with close shorn brunette hair and piercing blue eyes.

"Is it meat?" The latter shot back.

"No."

"Then I'd know the difference."

"You haven't even tried it. How can you shoot something down you haven't tried yet?" Sam asked expectantly.

"Like this- NO." G replied easily, slipping his laptop bag from his shoulder and setting it on his desk. He wanted no part in whatever health craze Sam had latched onto this time.

"Try it. Just once. You'll like it!" Sam insisted. If his partner would do just that one thing, he had no doubt he'd be hooked on the stuff. The problem was convincing Callen to try even a tiny bite. The man was nothing if not attached to his junk food.

Callen shook his head. "Not gonna happen."

"It's fruit. You eat fruit."

"By itself or in smoothies," G retorted, "Not as some bad meat substitute."

"It's good for you." Sam switched tactics. Detailing the benefits had worked a few times in the past. Maybe it'd work this time too.

But G wasn't giving in so easily. "So is eating actual meat," he reminded his friend, staring back with amusement in his gaze. His features were etched with the challenge of "what else you got?"

Sam sighed inwardly. He hated when G got that look on his face. Still though, he played the best card he had. "Jackfruit would give your body the vitamins and minerals it's lacking. A week of eating it instead of those greasy heart attacks you call food and you'd be feeling so much better. Look at me." He pounded his fist against his chest twice. "Strong as an ox. Few months to a year could have you in top shape."

"Okay, first of all," G held up a finger, "You were like that before you ever heard of jackfruit. Second, that's what you said about those protein bars...and I got sick after eating just one!"

"I told you! That was a bad batch." The taller man said defensively. Leave it to Callen to bring up one mistake. They'd all tried the power bars, and they'd each gotten sick. It was only after the team battled two days of nausea that Sam received notice of the recall on that particular batch. He'd already apologized, but G enjoyed hanging it over his head from time to time...like today.

"And that is why I'll stick to what I know. Basic food groups: caffeine, meat, bread, and good ol' classic fruits." Callen ticked off each with a finger as he named them.

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Morning, gents!" LAPD Detective Marty Deeks strolled into the bullpen. He glanced at Callen, noting the smug expression before peering over at Sam. "Whaaat's going on?" The shaggy blonde asked as he put his shoulder bag down at his desk.

"Sam's on another health kick," came the immediate reply from G.

"Uh oh," Deeks regarded the colleague to his left. "Should I be concerned?"

"No because it's not a health kick," Sam looked at G pointedly.

"But it is a trend." Callen pressed, unphased.

Deeks grew suspicious at that. Leaning against his desk, he thought back to the last "trend" Sam was interested in. "It's not that power bar thing again, is it?" God he hoped that wasn't the case. He still had nightmares about those.

"Jackfruit," Callen supplied before Sam could get a word in.

"Jackfruit?"

"Jackfruit," Sam confirmed, taking lead in the conversation again. "It's a yellow fruit that you can substitute for pork and chicken. It's a better source of antioxidants, minerals, vitamins...and it tastes good. Way better than the sludge you two jokers put in your bodies."

Marty's brows furrowed. Turning to Callen, he gestured towards Sam with his thumb. "Correct me if I'm wrong but didn't he say that about the power bars?"

"Yep." G kicked back in his chair, interlacing his fingers behind his head. His blue eyes danced with mirth.

Sam brushed off his teammates' annoying, if not predictable, teasing. "Whatever. It's not a trend."

"Trend?" Special Agent Kensi Blye chose that moment to arrive. Plopping her bag into her seat, she peered over at him, brown eyes narrowed as the word registered. "Please tell me you're not trying those power bars again." She pleaded. Her stomach churned at the mere notion. If Sam had decided to give them another shot, then she'd have no choice but to employ drastic measures. Without waiting for an answer, Kensi made a sweeping motion with her arm, indicating the direction of the burn room, "Because I swear to God I'll find every single one and throw them all in the incinerator…"

As she was gearing up for what would likely have been a tirade for the ages, a shrill whistle slashed through the air, calling the team's attention to the floor above. At the head of the stairs stood the usual culprit- Tech Operator Eric Beale- hands in his pockets and a knowing smirk on his face. "Hate to break up the health talk," he bounced on the balls of his feet, like a kid with a surprise to show, "But we've got a case." Wheeling around, Eric bounded towards the Ops center, expecting the team to follow suit.

"Saved by the Eric," Sam muttered under his breath. Sparing a withering look at G, he tucked his gear away then made his way to the staircase. "I don't know why I even bother."

"'Cause you've got a heart of solid gold, big guy," Callen needled, rising from his chair and exiting the bullpen alongside Kensi.

"Are you sure it's gold? I imagined something more like a big blob of organic gunk from those smoothies he makes." Deeks brought up the rear. Sam's muffled "I'll make you into organic gunk" drifted back, earning a chuckle and boyish smile.

Hetty watched the entire scene unfold from the solitude of her office. Her own features were marked by delight and pleasure. It did her a world of good to see her agents bonding in their own ways. A spry bunch as always, she beamed, returning her focus to her work while the team began theirs.

Up in Ops, Eric waited by the big screen, tablet at the ready in his hands. Intelligence Analyst Nell Jones hovered to his right, watching the doors expectantly. "So another health trend?" The petite redhead drummed her fingers against her tablet.

"According to Sam, it's not a trend." Eric flashed her a skeptical look.

The two locked eyes, letting a second pass before saying in unison, "It's a trend."

"It's not a trend!" Sam called out as he entered the room, exasperation clear in his tone. "How many times am I gonna have to say I don't do trends?"

G patted him on the shoulder as he slipped past, "As many times as it takes for you to believe it." Ignoring his partner's glower, he took a spot closer to Nell and Eric while the rest of the team fanned out around the strategy table. "What do we have?" He asked once everyone was situated.

Eric jumped into action immediately. Pressing a sequence of buttons on his tablet, he called up the information he needed, sending it to the larger screen for everyone to see. "This is Lieutenant Sami Abbas," the bespectacled blonde dove in, "He's been stationed on the USS Farragut for the past year as head of E-Division. By all accounts, polite and well-liked, never late or missed a shift...until three days ago when he went on shore leave and didn't come back."

"The Farragut has been docked at the Port of Los Angeles since last week, undergoing repairs before it's set to return to the Sea of Japan," Nell jumped in to pick up the narrative. "Abbas was due to report for duty yesterday. But when he failed to do that, his commanding officers grew concerned. They asked around and, apparently, nobody has spoken to him since he left the ship. That's when they contacted NCIS."

Deeks frowned. "Why the red flags? The guy is probably holed up in a hotel room somewhere after partying too much. Maybe he just needs a bit of downtime."

"It's not unusual for servicemen to let loose on shore leave," G conceded. "All that time on a ship can get boring. Missing a check in though…"

Sam bobbed his head in agreement, picking up Callen's line of thought. "Typically means the person's gone AWOL. You'd have to either be crazy or in serious trouble to risk it." He studied the image of the Lieutenant, committing details to memory.

"Right," Nell tapped a button, bringing up Abbas's personnel file. "Judging by this, there's no reason for him to go AWOL. He's received three commendations within the past four months for exemplary service; achieved high marks in his yearly review; and was even awarded the Navy Distinguished Service Medal, making him one of the youngest to receive the honor. He doesn't present as the type to go AWOL unless he was in some sort of trouble." She pivoted away from the screen to look at the others.

"Okay," Kensi leaned her hip against the table and folded her arms. "What sort of trouble do they think he might be in?" Being an officer in the Navy came with quite a few dangers, both obvious and hidden. Abbas could've gotten himself into a variety of situations, ranging from blackmail to terrorrism.

Eric shrugged. "That's what they want us to find out. But they did send us this..." he clicked another button. A video file moved to the foreground of the Ops viewing screen. It was time stamped 7:18 pm on August 29th with the angle providing a broad view of the port. Warehouse buildings lined the dock to the right while to the left of the frame sat the USS Farragut. A ramp spanned from its stern to the pier, allowing the crew and workers to come and go. Eric tapped play. The group watched the footage closely. There were a handful of dock workers milling around and even less of the Farragut's crew to be seen. It was obvious that everyone had either gone home for the day or were belowdecks. The lack of activity made the sudden motion at the top of the ramp that much more apparent. "As you can see," the lanky tech operator started up again, letting the footage play as he spoke. "The camera doesn't pick up anything until the 19:20 mark when a crew member leaves. Lieutenant Abbas follows a minute later and heads in the same direction."

"Heading out on the town together?" Deeks suggested.

"No, Abbas looks like he's trying not to be seen." G had recognized the posturing the instant Abbas set foot on the deck. He was taking every precaution not to stand out, walking at a relaxed pace while keeping in stride with the person in the distance ahead of him. "He's tailing the guy."

Sam pointed to the monitor where Abbas had suddenly disappeared from view. "Do we know where they went?"

"Unfortunately, this camera's angle doesn't let us see past the third warehouse, but there is another one at the port's gate," Nell explained. She switched to the second video feed they'd received access to. "Which, lucky for us, is where Abbas seems to go. The footage is pretty grainy because it's an older system, but we managed to clean it up enough to get a positive ID. You can see him exit the port at 19:26, right after another car goes out."

"The person Abbas was tailing?" Kensi guessed aloud.

"Likely," Eric said. "They're the only two cars seen leaving until the next morning."

Deeks folded his arms across his chest. Despite the video, there didn't appear to be a whole lot out of the ordinary. He agreed with Callen though. The more he observed Abbas, the more evident it became that the two crewmates weren't going to party together. "Do we have any idea who the other guy is?" If they were lucky, they might at least have a lead.

Nell burst his bubble. "We have no clue. Whether the crew member intentionally did it or if by coincidence, his face is too obscured for facial recognition. We can confirm it's a male crew member though."

"And we do know what they're driving," Eric added, pulling up that information. "The unknown male is in a 2014 black Nissan Altima with rental plates. Lieutenant Abbas also secured a rental car- a navy blue 2011 Hyundai Sonata. Now, the city has been working on the traffic cams lately, installing new ones and repairing older ones as needed. Which, of course, means that the cameras are shut down while being serviced…Anybody want to guess which ones were under repair that day?"

"Calling it," Deeks raised his hand, "Traffic cams in the port area."

"We have a winnah," Nell dipped her head towards him.

"Yes! Knew it! City coming in with terrible timing."

"Tell him what he's won, Eric."

Grinning, Eric continued in his favorite game show host voice, "Well Nell, our very own LAPD Detective has won himself a car! A 2011 Hyundai Sonata to be exact. Courtesy of LoJack Systems." He dropped back into his normal tone to add, "The rental company that operates out of the port outfitted their cars with GPS tracking systems after a string of thefts a few years ago. Thanks to that, we were able to track Abbas's car to Los Angeles Plaza Park. Based on the data from the car's LoJack, it hasn't moved from there since the 29th...when he was last seen."

"And nobody reported the car?" Callen asked skeptically. It was unusual for an abandoned car not to be reported, especially if it was left in a public place like a park.

"The park sees a lot of daily traffic from locals and tourists. It's probable the security guards believed it was broken down and that the user would come back for it." Nell sounded as doubtful as G. "In any case, we at least know where Abbas ended up after he left the port."

"What about the other car?" Sam inquired.

"It was returned to the rental company's downtown location. And, before you ask, we couldn't get an ID from there either. The person used the night drop to return the keys, and the lot's sole camera is aimed at the gate."

"Guess we got our work cut out for us," Callen huffed out. Peeking over his shoulder, he looked at Kensi and Deeks. "You two head over to the Farragut. See what you can find out from Abbas's crewmates. Sam and I will go check out his car." He then turned to the Wonder Twins. "I want you guys to take another look at that footage. Try to find anything that we might've missed. Abbas wasn't following that guy for no reason. We need to know what it was."

"On it," Nell and Eric chimed together.

"Once again, my talents are wasted with interviews," Marty bemoaned, feigning annoyance.

Kensi snorted, "Oh you mean your talent to talk everyone to death? That talent? I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit." Her eyes twinkled teasingly.

Deeks dramatically placed his hand over his heart. "You wound me, Kensalina. That one hit right in the heart. I think I'm going to need some resuscitation." He simpered cheekily, tossing an arm over her shoulder. "Care to do the honors?"

Arching her brow, she pinched his thumb and lifted his arm, sliding from underneath. "I'm driving," was all she said before ducking out of Ops, leaving Marty moaning in her wake.

Sam and Callen exited last, chuckling and shaking their heads. The detective never stood a chance against his partner.

"What. Was. That?!" Deeks exclaimed, slamming the car door shut.

"What was what?" Agent Blye eyed him from across the SUV.

"What was-" The detective's mouth dropped open. He scratched his scruffy beard then sucked in a breath, gesticulating at the highway they'd just exited. "THAT! It was like being in a formula 1 racing car without all the protective gear. We could've been killed! I could've died! Game over. Done. No extra life."

"Oh don't be a baby," Kensi flicked her hand, brushing the incident off. "Those idiots should've been paying attention. Besides, we didn't even come close to hitting them."

"Um, yeah, we did. We had maybe an inch between our bumper and their bumper. Less than an inch actually! I'd call that more than close, Sunshine."

"We made it in one piece, didn't we?"

"Barely!"

"Well, maybe now they'll think about looking at the road instead of their cell phone when they're driving." Kensi slapped Deeks on the chest, giving him a wry smirk before walking to the port.

Deeks watched her retreating form, flabbergasted into silence. His brain finally kicked into gear after a second. "And what about Hetty?" He jogged to catch up with his partner. "The little she-devil would kick our asses from here to Timbuktu and back again."

"I'll let her know you said that."

His smile faltered. He chuckled nervously. "Aw come on, Kens. It was just the fear talking. You wouldn't rat me out over something like your driving, would you?" No response. They rounded a corner, arriving at the pier. "Fern. Baby. You wouldn't do that, right? Right?!" But his pleas fell on deaf ears.

Kensi led the way to the Farragut. The whole time she kept her lips pressed together to keep from laughing. She loved messing with Deeks. His quick wit and sense of humor made up for his tendency to run his mouth all the time. Their little verbal spars were part of their teamwork, part of what kept them on their toes with one another. A dance they both relished and delighted in. Even so, she couldn't take it easy on him.

Once they reached the USS Farragut, things moved rather quickly. They were allowed permission aboard, introduced to the captain of the destroyer, guided to the room where they would conduct interviews, and given a rundown of the crew's current schedule and number aboard ship. The captain had also seen to it that a list of individuals who had been in contact with Abbas recently was compiled and delivered to the agents. Kensi and Deeks thumbed through the list briefly before deciding which interviews to prioritize.

The list consisted of sixty-seven names in total. Every name was categorized by department, with each department being alphabetized. At the top of the list sat Lieutenant Abbas's commanding officer, Commander Erica Dixon. She was the first to be interviewed.

"Commander Dixon," Kensi greeted when the woman arrived. She motioned to the chair across the table from herself. "Please, take a seat."

The commander had pristine ebony skin complimented by luminous amber eyes. Her midnight black hair was tied back in a bun, secured under her uniform hat. She was of an average build for a woman, standing at 5'6" tall and weighing roughly one hundred and twenty pounds. Regardless of her size, the commander had an aura of authority about her. Her presence filled the room, demanding attention and respect.

"Thank you, ma'am," Commander Dixon inclined her head, removing her hat and taking the proffered seat.

"I'm Special Agent Blye and this is my partner, Detective Deeks from LAPD. I suspect you know why we're here?"

The commander nodded. "Yes, ma'am. You're here because Lieutenant Abbas is missing."

"Do you have any idea why he'd be missing?" Deeks felt it best to dive straight in. "Did he get into any trouble or-"

"No, sir." Dixon shook her head. Her features were drawn, grim. "Not that I've been made aware of. That's why I wanted NCIS involved immediately. Lieutenant Abbas is a solid officer. He never neglects his duty. Always reports on time...even when he is sick. I had to order him to bed once because he was trying to complete maintenance on our casualty power systems while battling a severe case of food poisoning. That's how dedicated he is to this job. There's no way the Lieutenant would fail to report unless he is being prevented from doing so."

"You speak very highly of him," Kensi noted affably.

"Don't misunderstand me, Ma'am. Sir. The men and women on this ship are some of the best at what they do. They serve with honor and dignity. Strive to go above and beyond. If you understand that, then you'll understand what it means when I say Lieutenant Abbas is a step above the rest. He's on the fast track to having his own command one day."

Marty settled into the chair beside Kensi. Shaking his hair out of his face, he rested his arms on the table, asking, "Would there be anyone who wouldn't want that to happen? Someone who might be jealous of his achievements?"

Commander Dixon scoffed, "Abbas is only 25 years old and he's already made Lieutenant. He's got a good head on his shoulders and a good work ethic. He expects the same determination and dedication to the job out of his division as he does of himself. I'd be surprised if he hasn't stepped on a few toes and made a few people unhappy." She drew in a breath, exhaling softly before meeting the agents' gazes. "If you mean do I suspect anyone would harm him...I would like to say no. But there were a couple of incidents onboard last week that did cause concern..."

"What were those?" Deeks prodded gently.

"The Lieutenant got into an argument with another officer in his division. I'm not sure what it was about exactly- I think something about welding gear- but it created enough of a scene that I was called. It was the first time I'd had to reprimand him for anything. After that though, the two seemed to get along well enough. There haven't been any other instances between them at least."

Kensi shifted in her seat. "What's the officer's name?" That person would be one of the next to be interviewed.

"Ensign Lukas Holland, ma'am."

Detective Deeks pulled the list of names closer to himself, flipping through to search for the Ensign's name.

Meanwhile, Agent Blye nodded her thanks, proceeding with the questioning. "And the other incident you mentioned?"

Erica Dixon's demeanor noticeably shifted. Her features became more taut, lips pursing in a harsh frown, eyes hardening considerably. "Seaman Daryl Schaefer," she nearly spat. "He's the poster boy for what not to do as a Naval officer. Always late for his shifts. Has a problem with authority, especially women in authority. Abrasive and aggressive to everyone but a select few...I've had countless complaints about his conduct from the moment he entered this command, a few of them my own. I honestly don't know how he's avoided a dishonorable discharge this long." The Commander leaned forward. "If anyone were to have a problem with the Lieutenant, I suspect he would be at the top of the list. The XO caught Schaefer charging at Abbas one night. He managed to step in before a fight could break out but only just. There was disciplinary action taken against Seaman Schaefer but not the Lieutenant which, as you can imagine, didn't go over well. From what I understand, what I've seen, tension's been brewing between those two for a while now and I think it finally boiled over. Whether Schaefer would go so far as to do something to Abbas…" She spread her hands open on the cool metal, lifting them ever so slightly in a shrug, leaving her sentence unfinished to allow the agents to draw whatever conclusions they would.

Deeks and Kensi exchanged a look. Commander Dixon's attitude regarding the Seaman spoke volumes. If he had tried to attack Lieutenant Abbas once before, then he might be prone to attempt it again.

"Thank you, Commander," Kensi stood up, extending her hand to shake the officer's. "That's all the questions we have for now."

"Ma'am. Sir." Commander Dixon mirrored the agent's movements. She shook each of their hands in turn before walking to the hatchway. As she went to step out, Erica hesitated, pivoting to look back at the two. "There is one other thing. You may want to speak with Petty Officer 3rd Class Constance Keene. She and the Lieutenant had a weekly exercise routine. If something was going on, she may know about it." Replacing her hat on her head, the Commander saluted then carried on her way. She trusted them to do their job and find the missing lieutenant.

"Well," Deeks rapped his knuckles on the table. "That was interesting. She doesn't like this Schaefer guy at all."

"Can you blame her? He sounds like a creep."

"A creep capable of making a Navy officer disappear?" He hinted.

Kensi grinned wolfishly. "How about we find out?" She summoned the seaman assigned to assist them, requesting that he bring Seaman Daryl Schaefer to be interviewed. Two minutes later, the man sat broodingly in the steel chair previously occupied by Commander Dixon.

Like the Commander, Schaefer's presence filled the room. Except, where hers had commanded respect, his demanded fear. Tall and muscular, with intense light brown eyes that seemed to bore into you, intimidation and menace exuded off of him in waves. His fidgeting made it obvious he preferred to be anywhere else but there.

"So," Kensi started, "Seaman Schaefer, you've worked with Lieutenant Abbas?" It was a softball question. Meant to see how he would react, and boy did he react.

"Look I don't know why I'm here," he abruptly jerked forward, jabbing his finger against the tabletop. "But if it's because you think I've got anything to do with Abbas goin' missing then get your asses out of my face. I didn't touch him, and I sure as hell don't know where he's at."

"Okay," Deeks brushed the hair from his eyes. "A. That's not what she asked and B. I'm sensing some serious hostility here. Care to tell us what that's about?"

Schaefer glowered at the detective. "Why? So you can pin whatever's going on on me? Yeah right." He sneered. "I know your type. Always trying to stick it to the little guy. You and your girly here."

Kensi's nostrils flared. She could see what Commander Dixon meant about the Seaman having issues with authority and women. He truly was a creep. Somehow she kept from launching herself across the table at him.

Seaman Schaefer's comments made Deeks bristle as well. He'd come across jerks like this too many times before. Seeing women as lesser...It was a power trip for them. How is this guy still in the military? There was no way he should've been allowed to stay in. Yet here he was.

"Why don't we try this again?" Deeks propped his elbows on the table's edge, wiggling in his chair as he adjusted his posture. "We'll start with what we know. You had an altercation with Lieutenant Abbas prior to his disappearance. One where your XO had to step in. The same one where you received disciplinary action but not Abbas. Cut to a week later and he's missing. And you're not the least bit worried about him. You don't see that as a tiny bit suspicious?"

Schaefer snarled, his face darkening. "So I don't care what happened to Lieutenant Goody-Two-Shoes. Why should I? He's been nothing but a thorn in my side. Lording it over me that he's a Lieutenant and I'm a Seaman with him being just a year older than me. Always trying to butt in to my work. Correcting me. I'm not even in his division! You think I'd care about someone like that? Hell no! If you ask me, I'm glad he's gone. Maybe now I can actually do my job without him constantly hounding me." His breathing had grown heavy the further into his tirade he'd gotten. The mask of composure he wore was slowly disintegrating. He realized he needed to calm down or else he'd completely lose his cool. Squaring his shoulders, the Seaman took three deep breaths before lifting his gaze back to the agents. "Does that mean I did anything to him? No, and you can't prove different. Now, if that's all, I'd like to get back to dealing with things I care about. Sir...Ma'am." Schaefer ground out the last, standing without preamble.

Kensi had an inclination to tell the Seaman to sit back down; however, she doubted it would get them any further answers. Schaefer made it abundantly clear how cooperative he was going to be. And, as much as she hated to admit it, he was right in that they couldn't prove anything. All they had were suspicions and prior encounters. Nothing that would stand up in a court. They needed more...way more than what they had.

"That could've gone better," Deeks quipped the second Schaefer was out of earshot. "Did you see the look in his eyes? The guy has serious anger issues."

"Mhm," Kensi hummed her agreement. "Makes you wonder, doesn't it?" Despite his adamant denials, Schaefer succeeded at putting himself at the head of their suspect list.

Even with suspicions mounting, the duo did their due diligence by continuing with the rest of the interviews. Their interview with Ensign Holland was short and sweet. After the first few questions, the agents had been able to remove him as a suspect. He simply didn't have the motive or heart, and he had a solid alibi. Next on their agenda, thanks to Commander Dixon's suggestion, was Petty Officer Keene. At 23 years old and standing at 5'3", the Petty Officer was not nearly as imposing of a presence as Dixon or Schaefer. Blonde with gray eyes, she had a slim, athletic build which seemed to suit her duties as Quartermaster in NN-Division. She gave off a friendly vibe, although she appeared nervous as she took her seat.

The agents introduced themselves. Kensi once more taking the lead in questioning. "Do you know why we're here, Petty Officer?"

Keene nodded swiftly, staring down at her hands. "You're investigating Lieutenant Abbas's disappearance."

"That's right," Kensi smiled kindly, "Do you have any idea who would want the Lieutenant to disappear? Did he have any enemies on board? Anyone angry at him?" Of course, they knew of Schaefer, but it was beneficial to get corroboration, if and when possible.

The young woman stayed silent for a moment. She shuffled around anxiously, biting her lip while her eyes darted back and forth. Keene wanted to speak yet she was afraid to. That much was plain to see.

"Petty Officer Keene...Constance. May I call you Constance?" Marty spoke softly, tenderly, like an old friend talking to another. "We're here to help, but we need you to help us so we can do our jobs. Okay?"

Silence; however, Constance did lift her eyes to meet his, giving him a faint bow of acknowledgement.

"Is there someone onboard who would want to hurt the Lieutenant?" Kensi tried again.

Petty Officer 3rd Class Constance Keene drew in a deep, shaky breath. Steadying herself, she bobbed her head in the affirmative. "Sami-Lieutenant Abbas...I think Schaefer may have done something to him. To get him out of the way."

"Out of the way of what?"

"Out of his way. The Lieutenant...he was trying to help me shake Schaefer off. The guy's a real cretin, you know? He's been harassing me for about a month. Saying how he'd like to get with me. Making dirty remarks about my body. Trying to get me alone. I brushed him off. Told him to stop. But he just kept pressing. He-he tried to," she couldn't find the words. Her breathing became haggard, and she struggled to keep her equilibrium intact. "He tried to get physical but I got lucky. There were people around so he backed off. I told Lieutenant Abbas about it instead of reporting it. I should have gone to the Commander," Constance berated herself. "I was too scared. I am too scared. Schaefer threatened me if I did, and a guy like that doesn't bluff about those things. When I told Sami, he wouldn't let it go. He started watching Schaefer like a hawk. I think he even researched him. I remember him mentioning an old court case- about a domestic dispute right after Schaefer joined the Navy. He talked like he had a whole file on the guy…"

"Any idea where that file might be?" Deeks shared a knowing look with his partner. Schaefer had poor impulse control. If Abbas did indeed have something on him, it was conceivable the Seaman would want to make it go away as quickly and quietly as possible. Finding that file could give them the motive they required to bring him in for further questioning.

Keene nodded, clearing her throat. "I think he kept it on his computer. I can show you to his quarters, if you'd like?"

Kensi smiled, "We'd really appreciate that." She slid from her seat, gesturing for the officer to lead the way.

Deeks brought up the rear.

The trio traversed various passageways, meandering from the bow of the ship to the stern, then descending to the deck below. By the time they arrived at Abbas's stateroom, they'd passed through so many areas that neither agent was sure they'd be able to find their way topside. Fortunately, Petty Officer Keene offered to assist them in whatever way she could. Kensi stationed her outside the stateroom for the time being, asking her to redirect nosy onlookers while they combed through the room.

It was a task that didn't take long. Abbas kept his stateroom in top form. Everything had a space, and everything was in its place. The bed was made to perfection. The corners tucked under in textbook manner. The Lieutenant's personal photographs and letters were corralled in a singular location inside his footlocker, which itself was stowed against the wall. His uniform shirts and pants were pressed and creased, hanging in what the Navy considered to be a closet, with his polished boots glistening from the bottom shelf and his rimmed uniform hat completing the ensemble from where it rested on the upper shelf. Beside the closet stood a wooden table bolted to the floor. A matching chair was tucked underneath. The table's decor consisted of precisely two items- a small lamp and a laptop.

With gloved hands, Deeks flipped the laptop open, hitting the power button. He waited for it to boot up, praying the Lieutenant didn't keep it password protected. The detective should've known better. A familiar, annoying blue screen popped up, asking for none other than the user password. "Ahhh," Deeks hung his head.

"Password?" Kensi recognized that frustrated groan. She stopped running her hands over the seams of the mattress, walking to where he stood instead.

"Yep. Always with the password."

"Hey, shows he's a good officer, right?" Agent Blye stepped around him to the bulkhead. "You wouldn't happen to know Lieutenant Abbas's password, would you, Petty Officer?" It was a long shot but worth a try. Keene and Abbas did appear to have a sort of friendship going on, after all.

Keene frowned and shook her head. "Sorry, Ma'am. As friendly as he is, he's also intensely private. He never shared information like that with anyone."

Kensi huffed. "Worth a shot. Thank you, Petty Officer. I think we're almost done here. Do you mind waiting a couple more minutes?"

"Not at all, Ma'am."

"Thanks." Kensi turned on her heel, leveling Deeks with a stare. "Looks like another job for the Wonder Twins."

"Five bucks says Eric hacks it in 2 seconds," Deeks joked as he unplugged the computer.

"Ten says he does it in 1."

"Oh you're so on." The scruffy blonde secured the laptop. Peering around, he asked, "Think we missed anything?"

"I don't think so," came the pensive response. "Nothing's out of place. If anyone came in here after he went missing, I doubt they'd leave it exactly as he had it. Or leave his laptop for us to find for that matter. I'll ask the Captain to cordone it off, just to be on the safe side, but I think whatever got Abbas into trouble will be on there," Kensi indicated the sleek gray machine in Deeks's grip. "Hopefully, the Lieutenant left us some breadcrumbs."

The agents gave the stateroom a final cursory glance. Satisfied that they had meticulously examined every nook and cranny, they collected Petty Officer Keene and headed topside, stopping briefly at the Captain's quarters to submit their request regarding Abbas's. Once everything was in order, they disembarked from the Farragut and traipsed back to their car.

Kensi, naturally, got behind the wheel, leaving Deeks to ride shotgun. Swearing under his breath, the detective resigned himself to the inevitable and plunked into his seat, placing the laptop in his lap. He prayed people would be paying attention to the road this time. Hell hath no fury like a Kensi vexed.

By the time they arrived at Ops, his knuckles were white and his throat parched. His partner looked ready to kill, and both were cursing LA traffic. However, nothing could compare to seeing Henrietta Lange standing sternly on the Mission steps, arms primly crossed over her chest as she awaited their return. They were so dead.

While Kensi and Deeks worked the Farragut angle, Agents Callen and Hannah concentrated their efforts at the park where Abbas's vehicle had been discovered.

"Don't say a word," Sam remarked as he rolled his black Dodge Challenger to a stop. "Not a single word."

Callen peered innocently over at his partner, that child-like gleam in his eyes. "I'm not saying anything." Unclipping his seatbelt, he pushed open his door and hopped out. "But you really should've seen your face."

Sam slammed his door shut. "Who dresses up like a clown to wash windows on the side of the road? That's just wrong," he scowled.

"Which part?" G asked in mock seriousness. "The clown or the window washing?"

"Keep it up," Sam glared, "And you'll be walking back."

"What? It's a legitimate question. His technique was terrible. I'm honestly surprised you didn't shoot him."

"G!"

Callen raised his hands in surrender. "Not another word." He grinned crookedly, trailing after Sam.

The park was busy for this time of day. Tourists milled around, visiting the many shops and small kiosks, taking pictures of the statues and buildings. Employees from the local businesses were also scattered around, some occupied with business calls while others enjoyed their lunch breaks outdoors. A few college students here and there completed the image. It was exactly like Nell said- the plaza was a bustling place. In spite of all that, the Hyundai Sonata sat undisturbed at the edge of the plaza's parking lot. The only apparent change to its status was the yellow crime scene tape now circling it- courtesy of the security guards- and the handful of onlookers that passed by.

"Doesn't look like it's been touched," G said, taking a pair of black latex gloves from his pocket and fitting them onto his hands. "Kinda surprising given the area." No sooner had the words left his mouth then sirens blared in the distance. Their baleful wails echoed in the warm morning air.

Sam nodded as he bent down to look through the windows, wriggling into a similar pair of gloves. "It's an easy target." The agent tested the driver's side handle, finding it to be unlocked. "Too easy. Probably spooked 'em," he exchanged a meaningful look with Callen.

"Lucky for us." The brunette moved to the back of the car. "Hey, Sam, pop the trunk while you're down there." There was a grunt from his partner accompanied by the snickt of the lock being released.

Agent Callen scoured the compartment for any clues, any hints for something amiss. He tested the sides for deformities- places where the Lieutenant may have created makeshift hiding spots. He tugged the carpet up, exposing the spare tire underneath, scrutinizing every inch of space. He probed the lid of the trunk, searching for any oddities there. Nothing. No false bottoms. No hastily made cavities. Not even a piece of paper randomly poking out at him. "Trunk's clean," G announced, closing it.

"Yo, G, come here." Sam called back.

G continued to the right of the car, finding his partner hunched over the front passenger seat. Sam's bulky frame took up the entire opening. His impressive stature made the car seem more compact, tiny. Callen was tempted to crack a joke about clown cars, but he thought better of it. He didn't want to call Sam's bluff about leaving him to walk back to Ops. Too much hassle. Instead, he settled for a casual, "Find anything?"

Sam cautiously extricated himself from the car, careful to stay crouched until he cleared the door frame then standing to his full height. "Just this," he held up a weathered brown wallet, handing it to G. It'd been tucked between the armrest and driver seat, invisible except for the one corner peeping out. Easily overlooked if you weren't searching for it. "Whatever the Lieutenant was doing, he didn't think he'd need his wallet. Or anything else." Sam waved half-heartedly at the vehicle. "Car's completely empty. No duffel bag. No gear. Not even a food wrapper. It's almost like he was never even here."

"Except he was," Callen batted the wallet thoughtfully against his palm. "The question is why...and where did he go..." Blue eyes skimmed over the luscious foliage, brushed over the different structures, hunting for a lead. Beside him, Sam did the same.

"Got a camera at the entrance," Agent Hannah indicated by lifting his chin. "Another one at the exit."

"Yeah, I count three more from here. All pointing in different directions." G met Sam's gaze. "Looks like they're covering spots where there's heavier foot traffic."

"Could be good. Could be bad." Sam rubbed his thumb over his chin, contemplating this bit of news. "Let's say Abbas tracks the guy here. Why come here? Parks close at sunset. There wouldn't have been time to do anything."

"Unless you're not planning on doing anything legal." Callen knew where Sam was heading with this. Whoever Abbas had been tailing, he hadn't planned to come to the plaza for an evening of fun and relaxation. He'd been here for another purpose. If they could determine what it was, then they might be able to find out what had the Lieutenant acting so mysteriously...perhaps they'd even get lucky enough to locate the missing officer.

Entrusting the blue Hyundai to the forensic team onscene, Callen walked back towards their ride, bringing out his phone while he spoke to Sam, "I'll have Eric pull the surveillance footage. He and Nell can go over it together. Maybe there'll be something on there we can use."

"I don't know, G," Sam scratched his brow. "I've got a bad feeling."

G cocked his head, eyeing his friend. It wasn't often Sam said that. When he did, his instincts were usually correct...which didn't set Callen at ease. He started to respond but was interrupted by his phone ringing. Glimpsing the screen, he saw it was Eric calling. "Speak of the devil." G showed Sam the caller ID before answering. "Eric, either you've got really good timing or we're gonna have a chat about eavesdropping," he joked, propping himself against the Challenger. There was a beat of silence as he listened.

He stiffened. Three words thundered in his ear, clamorous as any gunshot.

"We found Abbas."