"Ah, Jethro. How fortuitous. I was just getting ready to call you."
Ziva couldn't help be feel a sense of disbelief as she and Gibbs walked into "Ducky" Mallard's examining room. How does he know? Even after a year as Mossad liaison with NCIS, she couldn't figure out how Gibbs knew whenever Ducky had something relevant to report before the medical examiner could even get on the phone to him. She always told herself to not question her superior's sixth sense. Just accept it.
The natural curiosity inherent in all good intelligence operatives refused to let her do that.
One day, she vowed, she would solve this mystery. Today, however, she had a more important mystery to solve.
What killed the man lying on Ducky's stainless steel table?
"What do you have, Ducky?" Gibbs sipped his coffee.
"Well, we can rule out foul play in the death of this poor man."
"So none of the rounds we recovered hit him?" Ziva asked.
Ducky shook his head. "Not a one. All the wounds I've discovered clearly indicate that some animal was responsible for his death." He pointed out the various claw and bite marks on the carcass, a couple of them going completely through the bone.
"Do we know what sort of animal did this?" Gibbs asked.
Ducky tilted his head to one side. "Well, I did do some quick research of the fauna of North Carolina. There are only three animals capable of devouring a human being like this. One would be a cougar, though everything I read indicates they were eradicated in North Carolina decades ago. Oh, some people report seeing them, but state wildlife officials haven't been able to confirm any of those sightings. So that leaves us with a black bear and an alligator."
Ziva furrowed her brow. "I thought alligators only lived in Florida."
"Oh no, my dear Ziva. Alligators can be found throughout the southeastern part of the United States, and from Florida all the way up to the Carolinas. Though the problem with this being an alligator attack is that they tend to drag their pray back to their lair instead of just leaving it out in the open."
"So could it be a bear?" She folded her arms.
"Possibly, though black bear attacks on humans in North America are extremely rare. I read there have only been fifty-six such documented attacks over the past century."
"Still, it seems to me we only have two possibilities here. This man was either killed by a bear or an alligator."
"Not necessarily." Gibbs turned to her. "It could also be an animal that escaped from a zoo."
"I would think if a lion or a tiger escaped from one of the zoos down there it would be on the news."
Gibbs just stared at her with a neutral expression. "Not if it escaped from a private zoo."
"Ah, you might be on to something, Jethro." Ducky raised a finger. "I know during the 1970s, quite a few people in England bought leopards and jaguars as pets. It was all the rage back then. But those people quickly learned that those cats were nothing like the domesticated variety we've come to know. They couldn't handle the animal's wild nature, and in some cases, they released them into the countryside. Even to this day, reports persist of large cat sightings throughout England."
"So how do we find out where these private zoos are located?" Ziva inquired.
"Start with North Carolina's Game and Fish Department, or whatever agency down there handles animals. They might have records on any private zoos."
"I'll get on it." She nodded. "So I guess it's safe to say the shell casings we found came from our victim shooting at the animal that attacked him."
"I'd say that, too," Gibbs' lips twisted slightly. "If we'd been able to find the gun."
Ziva sighed to herself, then turned to Ducky. "Is it possible that whatever attacked our victim may have eaten his gun by mistake?"
Ducky shrugged. "I supposed it's possible, if it were a handgun. I've heard stories of sharks having their stomachs cut open and lo and behold, they discovered tires and license plates and all manner of surprising objects."
Ziva's eyes widened for a moment. She couldn't even imagine how a shark would come by a license plate, and why on earth it would eat it.
Gibbs nodded. "Thanks, Ducky. Let me know if you find anything else."
"Oh, you'll probably know the second I do. You always seem to."
Ducky smiled as Gibbs and Ziva departed the room.
"It doesn't look like this is our sort of case," she said to Gibbs as they walked down the well-lit corridor toward the elevator.
"Oh? How so?"
"Well, you heard Ducky. This was clearly an animal attack. Our victim was obviously trying to protect himself, and failed."
"Maybe."
Ziva's face scrunched up. "Maybe? Gibbs, do you really think someone trained a bear or an alligator to kill that man?"
"No, but I just don't think it's as cut and dry as you think."
She chewed on her lower lip. "It's the shell casings that are bothering you, isn't it?"
"More the fact we can't find a weapon to go with them. And I don't buy the fact that whatever attacked our victim ate that gun."
Ziva halted when they got to the elevator door and turned to him. "You think there was someone else there?"
"That's what we need to find out."
They rode the elevator back up to the main floor of NCIS headquarters. Ziva went to her desk and turned on her computer. She went online and checked the home page for the North Carolina state government. She scanned the list of departments and agencies and figured the State Wildlife Resources Commission looked promising.
They transferred her five times before she got someone, she prayed, could help her. She asked for any information on anyone running a private zoo within a hundred miles of Camp Lejeune. There were six private residences authorized by the state to keep what the Commission labeled as "exotic species." Four of them kept animals capable of devouring a human being, though the Commission received no word of any of them escaping.
Not that that matters. The owners of those zoos may not want to report it for fear of losing their license. She also was suspicious of the number the Commission person gave her.
He should have said six private residences that we know of.
After taking down the addresses of the known private zoos, Ziva thanked the man on the other end and hung up.
That's when McGee burst out, "We got it."
"Got what?" Gibbs marched around the divider surrounding McGee's desk.
His head jerked back in surprise. "B-Boss. I was just coming to get you."
"And why were you just coming to get me?"
"Um, uh, well. Uh, Colonel Walling just called from Camp Lejeune. They were able to get a positive match off the dental records."
"And?" Gibbs sipped his coffee.
McGee looked down at a piece of note paper in his hand. "The victim is Corporal Thomas Conti. He drove an LAV-25 for the Second Light Armored Reconnaissance Battalion."
"Uh-huh." Gibbs stared at McGee, unsmiling. "Anything else?"
"Um, like what?"
"Like what he might have been doing alone on the beach at night. If he was alone. Does he own a personal weapon?"
"Well, um, the Colonel didn't say."
Gibbs' expression hardened.
McGee swallowed. "But I'll call Colonel Walling back and get that information."
"Then get to it, McGee."
He nodded and hurried back to his desk, snatching the phone from its cradle.
That's when Ziva's phone rang.
"NCIS, Officer David."
"Hi, Ziva! It's me, Abby!"
"What is it?"
Abby Sciuto gasped on the other end. "Ziva. You don't just say, 'what is it?' You're supposed to ask me how I am and engage me in small talk."
She rolled her eyes. "Abby, look. We're really busy with -"
"I know you're busy. But this is important to the whole co-worker bonding thing, you know? Now come on."
Ziva clenched her teeth and held her breath. Never in her life did she ever think someone who could be so happy could drive her so insane. But Abby certainly did that. She may be second to none in forensics and computers, but would just a modicum of professional be too much to ask for?
"Zeeee-vaaaa." Now Abby sounded like a five-year-old.
She sighed, figuring it was best to humor the "goth" woman rather than listen to her whine.
"All right. Hello, Abby. How are you doing?"
"I'm doing great, thank you for asking. My bowling team is in our league semi-finals. I think we have a good chance of winning the championship."
"Uh-huh." Ziva leaned back in her seat, remembering that Abby bowled on a team made up primarily of nuns.
Abby and nuns. There are two things you wouldn't expect to go together.
She tried to picture that in her mind. It proved impossible.
"So," Abby continued. "What's new with you?"
She rocked a few times in her chair. "My synagogue is forming a book club. I'm thinking of joining."
"Cool. See, wasn't that fun?"
"Very much so. Now, what's the reason you're calling?"
"Okay. Now on to business. I wanted to see if Gibbs was up there. I've got something to show him."
"He's right here. I'll let him know."
"Thanks, Ziva. Oh, and if you want I can . . ."
Ziva hung up the phone, sparing her whatever other inane things Abby wanted to talk about. "Gibbs. That was Abby. She says she has something."
She and Tony followed Gibbs into the elevator and down to the floor for Abby's lab. Even before they reached the door she could hear loud, driving music through the closed door.
How can that woman's eardrums still be intact after listening to that . . . noise?
Ziva winced as the door opened. A piercing combination of electric guitars and a shrill-yet-operatic voice assaulted her ears. Amazingly, she could actually make out some words.
"Why am I loved, only when I'm gone? Gone back in time to bless the child."
"Hi, guys!" Abby bounced up and down and waved, a cheery smile highlighting a milky white face framed by black hair and pigtails.
Ziva couldn't help but gaze at Abby's outfit with incredulity. Even after all this time, she still couldn't get used to her appearance. The forensics people for Mossad never dressed like this, with clunky black boots, a skirt with a chain belt wrapped around it and a black T-shirt that read "Nightwish," which she assumed was the name of the band blaring through the lab.
"I don't recognize this one." DiNozzo looked around with a quizzical expression. "New band?"
Abby beamed. "Yeah. Nightwish. They're this super awesome metal opera band out of Finland. Do they rock or what?"
Or what? Metal and opera were two words Ziva never thought could be put together.
"This isn't why you called us down here, is it?" Gibbs asked, unsmiling.
"No, of course not. Besides, I know you're more a Tom Jones fan."
"What do you have, Abby?"
"All right already. Yeesh." She whirled around and tapped the keyboard of her computer, situated on a counter. "First, the easy one. The shell casings you recovered are forty caliber. Now," her smile grew wider. "For the big mystery"
Abby tapped a few more keys. Photos of the animal footprints popped up along the screen. She then reached up to one of the shelves and took down the plaster casts they had made of the prints.
"Okay, I took the photos of the footprints and the plaster casts over to the Washington National Zoo and had some of their zookeepers look over them. They compared them to every known large, land-dwelling predator out there. Not just the ones native to North America, but all over the world. Lions, tigers, Komodo Dragons. Oh my!"
Abby giggled.
Gibbs groaned.
Abby sighed and continued. "Anyway, after they got done looking at the prints, you know what they discovered?"
"What?" Gibbs asked flatly.
"That the prints don't belong to any known animal."
Gibbs' shoulders sagged slightly. "You brought us down here just to tell us you don't know what kind of animal made those footprints?"
"Ah!" Frustration flared across Abby's face. "Gibbs? Didn't you hear what I said? The prints don't belong to any known animal. Do you realize what that means?"
"What?"
"It means we've got ourselves a cryptid."
TO BE CONTINUED
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The lyrics used in this chapter belong to Nightwish from their song "Bless The Child."