Chapter 8

According to Michelle, it was going to take at least twenty-four hours of frantic work to get Operation: Dead Wrong to the printers, partially because the book itself wasn't in digital format. However, she promised that as soon as it hit the printers and was ready to go, she would let them know.

Stars and Stripes was happy to help, and the photographer that night sent over a copy of all the photographs he had taken that night. Mac spent the remainder of the day going through the photos, only taking a break when her eyes started hurting.

"Found him," she said, later. "Sort of. Guy isn't really camera happy, so he's not in any of the pictures good and proper, but that's him in the background, behind this fellow." Gibbs studied the male she was pointing to in the picture. It wasn't a very good angle, but it was better than nothing.

"He in any of the others?" Gibbs asked.

"Still looking, but this the first good one I've seen of him, so far."

"McGee."

McGee came over and quickly grabbed the photo. "I'll send it to Kasie and we'll start running it through facial rec," he said, typing. "The more angles we can get of him, the better."

"Then I'll keep looking, but this guy took a heck of a lot of photos that night," Mac said. Her stomach growled, and she groaned, rubbing her stomach.

"When was the last time you ate?" Gibbs asked.

"Breakfast, I think," Mac admitted. "Plus some coffee a little while ago."

"Torres," Gibbs said.

"You like Chinese?" Torres asked Mac.

She pulled a face. "I had to live on that stuff when I was making my way through nursing school, because I was on such a tight budget. What about Mama Greta's? They make a fantastic spaghetti and meatballs, and they do take-out, plus their menu prices don't break the bank, and it's got a website you can order from."

"And yummy," Bishop said, a moment later, looking over Torres shoulder. "Pansotti Alla Genovese with meat sauce or three cheese."

"That's a really big ravioli, and Mama Greta's doesn't skimp on her ravioli or the sauces," Mac said. "Oh, and breadsticks are included, and you have a choice of plain, garlic, or cheese. I love the cheese ones."

"What about the meatballs?" Torres asked.

"Try meat cannons," Mac said. "I only ever order three of those things because they are huge, but they are so good, especially the cheese ones."

"One order of spaghetti and meatballs coming up, with three cheese meatballs," Torres said.

"Make that two," Gibbs said, glancing over Torres shoulder.

"Done and done," Torres said. In the end, Bishop asked for the ravioli with meat sauce, McGee ordered the chicken linguini, and Torres decided to try their seafood fettuccine alfredo.

Once their orders came, they gathered around McGee's desk, and were joined by Sloane, who was quite happy to snitch some of each from everyone.

"So what happened with Operation: Dead Wrong?" Mac asked, twirling her fork into her spaghetti.

"Based on what I was reading, it should have never happened," Bishop said. "The CIA guy, Darien Jones? His information was wrong, very wrong. According to Admiral Kent, who was a lieutenant at the time, Andrei Nasonov was supposed to be hiding out at a compound just outside of Jerusalem. He wasn't, and the simple compound turned out to be very heavily fortified with Arabs who had every reason to want that compound kept secure; it was being used to store and secure weapons that would later be part of the Six-Day War in 1967, which the Navy wasn't involved in, but the US had interests in."

"That's a good reason," Torres said.

"When the SEAL team surveyed the compound about twenty-four hours before the actual mission, they found it a lot more heavily fortified than Jones had originally said, and Chief Petty Officer Baldwin tried to call the operation off until they had more information. Admiral Harris refused, threatened court martial of the whole team if they didn't follow their orders," McGee said.

"Bastard," Mac said.

"Well, for some reason, Harris really wanted Nasonov, and was mad as hell when he found out Nasonov was not only not at the compound, there was no indication he'd ever even been there," Sloane said, having read the book herself.

"Could Jones have egged him on?" Mac asked.

"Admiral Kent thought so, and he shared his thoughts and his concerns with Chief Petty Officer Baldwin, who agreed, but told him to keep his mouth shut and follow orders," Bishop said. "Admiral Kent wondered if he was being threatened, especially when he saw him and Jones having a very heated conversation just before the mission."

"To quote Admiral Kent, the whole mission was a regular Charlie Foxtrot," McGee said.

"Charlie Foxtrot?" Mac asked, confused.

"Radio talk for clusterfuck. It's in line with shitstorm, FUBAR, and SNAFU," Sloane explained.

"Now those two I'm familiar with," Mac said. "Heard those a few times from some of the Navy doctors I worked with at Bethesda, plus a few other ones. Anyway, so you're saying the intel from Jones was bad, that this spy was never at the compound, and when Chief Baldwin tried to back out, he got told to do it anyway or else?"

"Pretty much," Bishop said.

"So what happened? Were they ambushed? Outnumbered?" Mac asked.

"They didn't even get a hundred yards within the corner compound wall before someone started shooting at them, which lead Admiral Kent to think someone had told on them," McGee said. "Petty Officer Jenson took the first hit right through the throat, sniper fire."

"Dead on impact," Mac said, having seen those kind of injuries before.

"Exactly. Petty Officer Williams was killed when he couldn't get out of the way of a rocket, due to being pinned down," McGee continued. "Kent was never sure if they managed to find all of his remains that night."

"Jeeze," Mac moaned. "And Burns and Mark? Weren't they killed as well?"

"They were. Burns sustained serious injuries during their extraction, when Baldwin finally convinced Harris to send the helo and get them out of there. He died two days later. Petty Officer Mark was the helo gunner, and Kent describes him as taking several rounds to the chest before Kent could take over and fire back," McGee said. "He died enroute back to the base."

"Five days later, Kent went to check on Ashmore, after having been told they were to never speak of that mission again, and found him dead of a bullet wound to his temple," Bishop said. "To this day, Kent was never quite sure if Ashmore actually killed himself, or if Jones had a hand in it."

"Why?" Mac asked.

"Because when Kent went to collect Ashmore's stuff to be sent back home, he found a journal he knew Ashmore had a habit of writing in, burned beyond recognition, in the tent camp stove," Bishop said.

"That would do it," Mac said.

"Also, according to the coroner's report that Kent got his hands on, Ashmore had a very unusual welt on the back of his head that wasn't consistent with him falling backwards. There were no rocks under Ashmore's head when he was found, and the blood spatter on the ground was off," McGee said.

"Okay, I don't know a lot about CIA agents and all that spy shit, but I'm guessing, based on my James Bond reading, they weren't afraid of doing things like covering things up," Mac said.

"And you'd be right," Sloane said. "Back then it would have been real easy to make a murder look like a suicide, especially if they wanted to cover things up."

"What happened to Admiral… Harris, was it?" Mac asked.

"Heart attack, about six years after the mission," Torres said. He pulled a notepad towards him and read his notes. "Baldwin, cancer, eight years ago. He retired with full honors but never took part in another SEAL mission like that again. Captain Smith and Lieutenant Commander O'Hara, vehicle accident and cirrhosis of the liver, both brought on by alcohol. Lieutenant McEntire is still alive, but he's in a senior home with advanced dementia."

"Oof," Mac said. Her brow furrowed. "Once Operation: Dead Wrong is released, do you think McEntire might be at risk? I know he's supposedly got dementia, but I've seen some patients with dementia have moments of clarity when they see or hear something that's familiar or important to them. Doesn't always happen, but that might be enough to convince the killer that McEntire is a threat."

"She's got a point, boss," McGee said.

"We'll visit him first thing," Gibbs said. "See what he knows and how he reacts."

"Okay, and, umm, I hate to say this, but I'm not getting paid for being with you guys, so I need to get back to work," Mac said.

Gibbs got a grin on his face. "How do you feel about having a nursing student with you?"

Mac smiled. "Who wants to go first? I have a few patients I can think of who would give you a guys a run for your money."

"Torres, you're up first," Gibbs said.

Torres grunted. "How hard can that be?"

The next day:

"I am so, so, very so, sorry," Torres moaned as he limped to his desk to fill out his report. "I swear, on my life, and every skin care product I own, that I will never, ever flirt or get mouthy with a nurse again."

McGee grinned. "What did she do to you?"

"Five patients. The first one, not so bad. Nice old guy who needed a little help with his meds and a general check-up. Second patient, an old lady."

"Uh-oh," Bishop said, grinning.

"I forgot to mention to him that Margaret likes younger guys, and is not shy about smacking someone's ass," Mac said, joining Gibbs at his desk, and handing him a copy of her patient report.

"I think she left a bruise," Torres moaned, wincing as he sat down. "I'd charge her with assault, but what cop would believe me?"

"And then there was the patient who needed his catheter replaced," Mac said, grinning even wider.

"I thought that was bad until we had to deal with Mr. Egon," Torres said, shivering. "Gangrene? Smells worse than it looks."

"Poor guy has diabetes, and it's gone after his feet," Mac explained. "His health insurance sucks, thanks to a certain jackass, and he can't afford the necessary surgery to get it treated. So all we can do is keep the wound clean and give him antibiotics where we can."

"Isn't he supposed to be a veteran?" Torres asked.

"His wife was, which is how he managed to qualify for St. Michaels, but there's only so much we can do, because we're not fully equipped to do what needs to be done, which is put him in hospital," Mac explained.

"From there we went to Mr. Cartwright, who needed a bath," Torres said.

"Not something we do alone," Mac explained. "He may be old, but he's still about two hundred pounds, and if I drop him, I could seriously hurt him."

"And Ms. King. Very nice lady. Fantastic aim," Torres said.

"She likes to spit when she eats," Mac explained. "Torres looked real cute with mashed peas and potatoes all over his face."

McGee groaned in disgust, and Bishop laughed at the look on Torres face.

"And last but not least, the very lovely Mrs. Phillips," Torres said.

"She likes to bite and kick, and she managed to catch Nick in the no-no," Mac said, grinning even wider. "Dropped like a rock."

"How did you avoid getting bit by her?" Torres demanded, while McGee and Bishop laughed, and Gibbs just shook his head, wincing in sympathy.

"I've been doing this for over ten years," Mac shot back. "I've been bitten, kicked, scratched, grabbed at, screamed at, called every name you can think of, from both patients and their families, gotten covered in every manner of bodily fluid you can think of, from the young to the old. I've had food thrown at me, adult diapers, a beer bottle once, from a drunk. I got thrown across a room once, when I was doing a stint in the ER, because the Marine they brought in, he would have made the Rock proud, and he was reacting badly to some medication he'd been given to deal with the burn from some explosion from an engine he'd been working on, and apparently, normally, this guy was a regular teddy bear. Hard cold reality is, guys, nursing can get messy and dangerous, because we're dealing with human beings. I've lost track of the number of scrubs I've tossed out because they were too badly stained to even consider wearing again."

"Well, I promise you, from here on out, I will never, ever give any nurse I see any trouble or grief again," Torres said, holding up one hand.

"Bishop, you're up next," Gibbs said.

"Oh, and Tom will be landing at Quantico tomorrow night," Mac said.

"We'll pick him up," Gibbs said.

"Not without me, you don't," Mac said.

The next day, Bishop made her way to her desk, limping. Torres grinned at her.

"What'd you do?" he asked, liking how she looked in her cute purple scrubs.

"Twisted my back. Mrs. Heysworth was a lot heavier than she looked, and she needed a bath," Bishop moaned as she took off her jacket. She scowled when Mac waived a tube of Voltaren Extra Strength Emulgel at her, having taken it out of her work backpack. "That stuff stinks."

"This stuff works," Mac shot back. "You have a choice; clear your sinuses and not hurt quite so much, or suffer. It's either this, or the Tiger Balm, and trust me, that stuff really clears the sinuses."

Bishop stared at her, then nodded reluctantly. She turned around and lifted her shirt, and let Mac apply the gel, trying not to yelp in shock at the coldness of the gel. Then she moaned softly as Mac worked the gel into her muscles.

"When you get home tonight, wipe that stuff off with a cold wet cloth and soak in the tub with some epsom salts," Mac advised. "That will help."

Gibbs desk phone rang. After talking to someone, he hung up. "April Kent's on her way up, and Security says she's as mad."

"Should I get out of the way?" Mac asked. "Restraining order and all that?"

"Why?" Sloane asked, joining them. "You haven't done anything wrong, and besides, this could get interesting."

"You want to see what she'll do," Mac guessed.

"Please," Sloane said.

Before anyone else could say a word, the elevator opened, and a blonde woman in a too-tight top and leather pants charged out, her white faux fur coat flying behind her.

"Agent Torres, I want to talk to you, now!" April screeched, jabbing a finger at him.

"I'm right here," Torres said, standing up. He smiled. "So is my boss, Special Agent Gibbs. Boss, meet April Kent."

Gibbs came around his desk, watching as April stormed over to Torres. "I want that whore of a nurse charged!" she yelled.

"With what?" Torres asked, privately wondering if he was going to have to get his hearing checked afterwards.

"That bitch convinced Thomas to cut me out of his will and his life insurance! Thanks to her, I get nothing, and I deserve everything!" April screamed. "I want her charged and thrown in jail!"

"For what?" Gibbs asked. "According to the lawyer we spoke to, Admiral Kent made his will a month after Megan, his wife, died. Mac was nowhere near him at the time. Same with his life insurance policy"

"I don't care and I don't believe you! That money was mine! I earned it for putting up with his stupid son and taking care of his stupid brat!" April yelled.

"Ma'am, there is nothing we can charge Nurse Mackenzie with, because she didn't do anything wrong," Torres said. "The best you can do is try and challenge Lieutenant Kent, who is the sole heir to everything, in court, but good luck with that, because if you loose, any legal fees will come out of your pocket, and that's not going to be cheap, unlike your make-up."

April's face went red. Then she saw Mac, and she exploded. Before anyone could stop her, Mac's head was snapped around by a vicious backhand slap from April's hand, splitting skin on Mac's face from her cocktail rings. Before she could strike again, she was being grabbed by both McGee and Torres, with Sloane and Bishop shielding Mac.

"You bitch! You whore! I'll kill you! I'll ruin you! I'll ruin your name! I'll sue you to the ground! You stole what was mine and I want it back, now!" April screamed, fighting against Torres and McGee.

McGee grunted. "Hey boss, could use a little help here," he said, narrowly missing a kick from the struggling woman.

Another agent, a friend of theirs by the name of Colton, stepped in with Bishop and quickly got the struggling woman under control.

Gibbs got in her face. "Now, you listen to me, and you listen good," he snarled. "Nurse Mackenzie is under federal protection, and you are still under a restraining order to keep away from her. As of right now, if there are charges to be laid, they can be laid against you for assaulting her and violating your restraining order, as well as assaulting federal agents." April drew back her head as if to spit at him and he held up a warning finger. "You do what I think you're going to do, and I will charge you."

"It's not worth it, April," Mac said gently. "Don't. Just don't. Tom got everything, and I had no say in that, but I do have a say in whether or not you get charged with assault. If you want to contest everything, Tom can't stop you, but I can guarantee you will lose. Do yourself a favour and cut the Kent family loose. There's plenty of other fish in the sea."

"Director Vance?" Gibbs asked, the director having come out of his office at the commotion. Another agent had quickly updated him on the situation, and now he stared at April coldly, her bosom heaving from her struggles.

"Who the hell are you, nigger?" she snarled.

"I am Director Vance of NCIS, ma'am," Vance said coldly. "And you are banned from this building. If Nurse Mackenzie so chooses to charge you, we will assist her with that, and I guarantee you, you will spend time in jail."

"Just get out of here, April, and stay away from me," Mac said tiredly, accepting the ice pack someone kindly handed her.

"I'll sue the lot of you," April snarled. "You can't stop me from getting into the house."

"Yes we can," Vance said. "It's considered a crime scene, and if you go near it, we will arrest you for trespassing and tampering with evidence."

April cursed at him.

"Get her out of here," Gibbs said. "And April? Expect a restraining order from NCIS. You don't get to come near here again."

"Because, if you do, I will be very happy to put you on the floor," Sloane said. "Mac might be nice, but I'm not, and neither are any of the rest of us."

As April was escorted out of the building, Gibbs glanced at Vance. "I'll get someone from the legal department working on it," Vance said.

"I'll get started, sir," said a young woman with curly brown hair barely contained in a ponytail. "There's enough witnesses that I think I can convince a judge that she's a threat."

"Thanks, Emma," Gibbs said, friendly with the young paralegal who had assisted him on several occasions, and was known for standing up to him. "You okay?" he asked Mac, checking out her face carefully, which had a nasty red mark on one side.

"I'll live. Should have seen the bruise I got around my neck when a druggie tried to strangle me in the ER one time," Mac said, shrugging. "When the paramedics brought him in, he was fine. When he found out he wasn't getting the meds he wanted, he exploded."

"Was he charged?" Gibbs asked.

"Yeah, not that it did any good," Mac said. "He tried the same thing two weeks later with a different nurse, only to get body-slammed to the floor by two Marines. Security had to ban him from the hospital." She grinned as she remembered. "Last I heard, one of those Marines wound up marrying the nurse. Heck of an introduction."

Gibbs chuckled.