Chapter 11
They had a name. Sort of. And a contact number. The driver, who had identified himself only as Cain, had also given them his phone.
"I have nothing to lose. If you don't kill me, and surviving this shit doesn't kill me, then he will, for failing to kill you," Cain whispered hoarsely. "Either way, I'm dead."
Torres and Bishop showed up, and when they did, Gibbs sent Lieutenant Kent and Mac with them to the hiding place Lieutenant Kent was originally planning to go to, with instructions to stay there until they were called.
"Seems one of his SEAL buddies has family that owns and runs a log cabin campground," Bishop later explained, when they regrouped at NCIS, along with Sloane, who had been updated on the situation. "It's off season right now, so the campground is closed, and Lieutenant Kent's buddy told him to use the family's seasonal cabin, which is a really nice log cabin with really thick walls, and told him where to find the keys to the family's rifle cabinet."
"And no electricity yet," Torres said. "Place was creepy as hell."
"We stopped at a small grocery store on the way, and they loaded up on stuff, so they're good for a while," Bishop said.
"How was Mac?" Gibbs asked.
"Moving on automatic," Torres said. "Lieutenant Kent was already watching for the signs of psychological shock when we left, and had picked up a bottle of scotch as a precaution."
"Smart man," Sloane said.
"Do we have anything on this bastard?" Gibbs asked.
"We've been running Cain's prints through every database we can think of, and so far we're coming up blank. Same with facial recognition," McGee said.
"I'm going through his phone, and there's one number that keeps coming up, but it's a restricted number, and yes, I am trying to get it unrestricted," Bishop said, bringing up a file on the plasma, which showed repeated calls to the same number, all lasting less than a minute in length. "Same with the text messages."
"Whoever it is, though, definitely knows what's going on," Torres said. "Look at some of the messages. Red terminated. Secondary located. Proceeding with cleanup." He pointed to an earlier one. "TB cured. Mission complete." The time and date stamp said it was around the suspected time of Admiral Kent's death. "And then there's this one. Code yellow. Meet now."
"That looks like when we started putting Operation: Dead Wrong out in the public," Vance said, also with them. He had been apprised of the situation, and he was not happy.
"Did you get any reactions?" Gibbs asked.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. One of the aides in the meeting, he saw the book and his face went a funny shade of white," Vance said. "Fellow by the name of Commander Arving."
McGee started typing on his computer and quickly brought up a file photo of a Caucasian man with a bald head. "That him?"
"That's him. File says he's been passed over for promotion so many times he's stuck as a commander," Vance said, reading the file McGee had pulled up. "Should be retired by now but looks like he's still there."
"What do we know about him?" Gibbs asked.
McGee scrolled through the file. "Not a lot. Says he's in his late sixties, should have retired by now, but hasn't. Nothing special about him, not a lot of medals, but he's done a few tours overseas, again nothing really special. Frankly, boss, this guy's as boring as a bowl of cereal."
"That could be deliberate," Sloane said. "Best way to work behind the scenes is to keep a low, unassuming, profile. No one would pay much attention to a lowly, elderly commander."
"Are there any pictures of his hand?" Vance asked.
"Searching now," McGee said.
"Hey Gibbs, remember that guy Nurse Mackenzie saw at that party?" Bishop asked thoughtfully.
"Yeah?"
Bishop brought up one of the better pictures of their suspect from the party, and put it beside the file photo of Commander Arving. "Same bald fellow, maybe?"
Gibbs studied the two pictures. "Send that to Mac, see what she says."
"Already doing so," Bishop said. A moment later, she got a reply. "That's him, all caps."
"McGee?" Gibbs asked.
"Already digging, boss, but if he's CIA or anything like that, he's going to be backstopped or buried, very, very well," McGee warned him.
"What about that Russian spy, the one the whole mission was about in the first place?" Torres asked.
"We found a Russian citizen with that name, but other than one picture of him, there was nothing," Bishop said. "Nothing to suggest where he lived, or died, or anything."
"Could he have been a fake target?" Torres asked. "You know, so that the CIA guy had an excuse for attacking that compound?"
"It's possible," Vance said.
Bishop's brow furrowed as she studied something on her computer screen. "Okay, I reached out to a contact in Palestine, asking her to go through their archives around that time. See if maybe something happened. She just got back to me. They found a body in the desert, male, Caucasian, stripped, head smashed beyond recognition, and hands cut off."
"So?" Gibbs asked.
"So, he was found less than a mile from where the compound had been, and blood spatter on the ground suggested he'd been shot in the back of the head," Bishop said. "Yael, my friend, she said she found some pictures that were taken, and one of them showed a bloody rock nearby, suggesting that was what was used to bash the head and face in. And, this really interesting; there was a tan mark on the left wrist and right finger of the body."
"A watch and ring," McGee said.
Bishop sent a photo of a body to the plasma. She then sent a photo of the man they suspected was Jones, the CIA agent. A watch could clearly be seen on his left wrist, and some kind of heavy ring could be seen on his right hand.
"The victim's got dark hair, just like Jones," Torres realized.
"Someone murdered Jones, probably just after the failed mission," Sloane realized. "The mission failed, so he had to be punished or removed."
"But who by?" Torres asked.
"What about that Williams guy? The one whose body was never really found?" Torres asked, watching as Gibbs went to answer his desk phone, which was ringing.
"Yeah, Gibbs," he said. He listened for a moment, then said, "Send the body to NCIS, and I want to know about everyone and anyone who was even two feet away from him." He hung up, a scowl on his face. "Cain's dead. He'd survived the surgery, but when the nurse went to check on him a few minutes ago, they discovered him dead. They'll send the body to Palmer."
"What are you thinking?" Vance asked.
"Jones is dead; that body is not a coincidence," Gibbs said.
"It also can't be a coincidence that Williams disappeared during the mission," Sloane said. "And now Cain is dead."
McGee's computer chirped. "And we have another coincidence," he said, throwing up a photo on the plasma. "I just found a photo of Commander Arving's hand. Look familiar?"
"Son of a bitch," Gibbs growled.
"I knew I'd seen that mark before!" Vance said.
McGee's computer chirped again, and he started typing furiously. "I'd set up a program so that if that particular mystery number got any calls or texts, we'd know about it. And it just did."
"And?" Gibbs demanded.
"And one word, sent to the number, from a different number. Done," McGee said.
"Who wants to bet that someone slipped Cain a little something-something in his i.v. line?" Sloane asked.
"Where did that call go to?" Gibbs demanded.
"I can ping it, boss, but not without a warrant," McGee said.
"Do it," Vance said. "I'll authorize it."
"Doing. And this was the nearest cell tower," McGee said, bringing up a map of the D.C. area, with a circle highlighted.
"What's Commander Arving's address?" Vance asked.
"Right there," McGee said, typing fast. The address was within the circle.
Gibbs smirked.
"Do we know anyone who's got Russian contacts?" Torres asked, curious.
Gibbs smirked even wider. He did, but his friend was three hours behind them. As soon as possible, though…
"He does," McGee said.
"And so do I," Vance said. "Our Russian spy might be a decoy, but there has to be a reason why Jones was after him in the first place."
Then: "Uh-oh," McGee said.
"What uh-oh? Uh-oh is not good," Sloane said.
"It's not," McGee said. "That number just got another text. Secondary target located. Commencing with removal."
"Call Lieutenant Kent!" Gibbs snapped.
"Already calling," Bishop said, her phone to her ear.
Lieutenant Kent answered, keeping his voice low.
"Hopefully you guys have some good news," he said, once Bishop identified herself.
"I'm afraid not," Bishop said. "We just got word that your location may be compromised."
"Damnit," Lieutenant Kent hissed. "Mac's asleep and I wanted her to stay that way. What about that moron that tried to take us out?"
"He's dead," Bishop said.
Lieutenant Kent muttered something rude under his breath. "Okay, well, this is a pretty secure location, and I'm armed. My buddy, Bryan, said this place had a few secrets that'd he'd deliberately put in, as a SEAL, in case of situations like this, so it looks like they're about to be tested."
"Keep us posted, and we'll get there as fast as we can," Bishop said.
"Understood." And Lieutenant Kent hung up.
"Keep me posted," Vance said, watching as Gibbs and his team tore out of the bullpen. They needed that guy alive, and with an angry SEAL and a scared nurse, Vance didn't think their second attacker's chances were very good. An hour later, he had his answer.
"We learned something new today," Sloane said, over Vance's phone.
"What's that?"
"Never, ever piss off a frightened nurse," she said, laughing. "This guy's no-no's are in his throat and his face is busted from a very nice-looking cast iron frying pan."
Vance winced. "Is he talking?"
"He's singing like a trio of songbirds," Sloane chortled. "I don't know what Tom and Mac said to him, but he's more scared of them than he is off his handler. In fact, he's begging for protection." There was some talking in the background and then, "Gibbs has an idea. We're going to send a message to the restricted number, saying the job's done, and then watch Commander Arving like a hawk."
"Do it," Vance said. "Keep me posted."
"Always."
Back at the cabin, Lieutenant Kent grinned at his girlfriend, who was still glaring at their would-be attacker, who had dried blood on his face from a busted nose, and was currently being put in cuffs by McGee and Torres. He had given his name only as Abaddon.
"After this is over, what say you, me, and a judge, and we get married?" he asked, putting his arm around her shoulders, keeping his gun out in case of trouble.
"Are you serious?" Mac demanded.
"Hey, any woman who can swing a frying pan like you is a dream come true for a guy like me," Lieutenant Kent said, grinning. "Besides that, it would piss April off, because I was thinking of moving into Granddad's house, and if we're married, then you get to live there too."
Mac stared at him, eyes wide. "Could I decorate it to my preferences?"
"On one condition." At her curious look, he grinned even wider. "That fish tank of yours goes in the living room. That thing was cool!"
"Then we have a deal," Mac said, accepting his kiss.
Sloane stared at them incredulously. "That was the least romantic proposal I have ever heard," she said.
"Yeah, but it works for me," Mac said, blushing, causing Lieutenant Kent to chuckle.
"Fish tank?" Gibbs asked.
"I have a fifty-five gallon fish tank in my living room, with a bunch of fresh water fish," Mac said. "I 'inherited' it from one of my patients, when he passed on, because his family didn't want it."
"Those were some beautiful gouramis," Lieutenant Kent said, grinning.
"Don't you guys ever shut up?" Abaddon groused.
Lieutenant Kent smiled, and inwardly, the NCIS team cringed. Then the SEAL's fist shot out, and Abaddon was on the floor, out cold.
"Nice punch," Bishop said, conversationally.
"Very," McGee said.
"Fine form," Torres said, grinning.
Gibbs just groaned and shook his head.