Gibbs opened the door to Interrogation Room Two. Three chairs had been arranged- one for him, one for Taft and one for Commander Byers. Gibbs strode into the room, nodded at Ziva leaning against the glass, and motioned for Commander Byers to take a seat. The two suspects didn't look at each other.
"I take it you two know each other," Gibbs said, opening the case file he had brought with him.
"Never seen him before in my life," the commander replied gruffly, pulling on his hoodie strings.
"Really? Well, then why were you standing across the street with a revolver while Taft here was trying to break Harchman out of jail?" Ziva asked. Gibbs pulled out a surveillance photo DiNozzo had snapped while Ziva crossed the street.
Byers started to open his mouth and then shut it again. "You do have the right to remain silent, commander," Gibbs said. "But I would prefer that you didn't."
Taft jumped in. "He was supposed to distract the driver once he pulled into an alley around the corner while I got Harchman out of the van."
"Would you shut up, you idiot?" Byers screamed, lunging at the other suspect. Ziva was between the two men before Gibbs could blink, and was applying quite a bit of force to a pressure point on his shoulder. She held it until Gibbs nodded and released the breathless suspect.
"Geez, lady," Byers grumbled, rubbing his shoulder.
"You're lucky you don't have cuffs on," Ziva replied.
"You can't prove that I was in on that. I have my concealed carry permit- the Constitution grants me the right to carry a weapon," Taft said.
"Yes it does," Gibbs nodded. "But we can prove you were in on it." He pulled a small stack of photos and spread them out on the table. "These are more screenshots of conversations on the website between the two of you."
Ziva jumped in to help Gibbs with all the 'technological mumbo- jumbo' as he called it. She was no McGee, but she was certainly more skilled in this area than her boss. "These conversations took place in password- protected chat rooms that only you two had access to due to your platinum membership. They detail pretty much all the dirt we've been able to dig up on you, Reynolds, and the commander. Wanna fill us in before we dig any deeper?"
For the first time since entering the room, the two suspects looked at each other. Byers finally spoke. "The plan was to break Keith Harchman out of jail today in order for him to gain access to secure files on Reynolds' computer. He was an expert hacker. We wanted more intel on Jaguar than Reynolds was willing to give."
"So you killed him for it." Gibbs was trying to fill in the blanks.
"No!" Taft clarified. "We didn't kill anyone. But, I got a message on the website with a link to another secure chat room. I logged onto that one a few hours later and found a list of instructions waiting for me. It was a detailed list explaining how to gain access to the files and what to do once I got in."
"What role did you play in this?" Ziva asked Byers.
"I was the messenger. I would get messages similar to Taft's telling me where and to drop off the files- paper copies only. We both got paid."
"Do either of you actually know what Jaguar is?" Gibbs asked.
"No." Byers confirmed Gibbs' suspicion. "The files were all written in a high-level encryption code. We were told not to compromise the intel, and we never did."
"We needed Keith. Once we got to a certain point, the hacking skills required were way above our heads. Harchman was a master at stuff like this," Taft said.
"And I guess since you don't have him now, you haven't been able to hack your way into any more files?" Ziva asked. The men both shook their heads.
"When's your next drop?" Gibbs asked.
"Tomorrow morning. 6:00," Byers said. "Hotel lobby across town."
"Who do you work for?"
"I don't know," the commander answered, looking down at his hands folded in his lap.
"I said, who do you work for?" Gibbs presses, his voice growing in volume.
"We've never met him!" Taft said. "It's all done via chatroom."
"Looks like you know more about computers than you let on," Ziva smirked.
Gibbs and Ziva walked back into the empty squad room. His phone rang and he picked up on the second ring, placing it on speakerphone. "Talk, McGee."
"Tony and I just got done talking to Monica Johnson- the website manager. She said that as a part of their contract with platinum members, they do not monitor the password-protected chat rooms. She said it's the only way to gain their trust and sell more memberships."
"Is there a point, McGee?" Gibbs asked impatiently.
"Yeah, sorry boss. Johnson said that they do, however, monitor the instant messaging system and every message sent gets placed on record."
"We already have a transcript of the IM's, McGee," Ziva pointed out.
"I know. But, the point is, so do they. Johnson picked up on the chatter and reported it to the authorities. Guess who's in charge of the investigation?"
"Fornell. And McGee?" Gibbs said before his agent was about to hang up.
"Rule #6."
"Got it, boss." Rule #6- Never say you're sorry. It's a sign of weakness.
An hour later, Gibbs and Fornell stepped into the elevator together. As soon as it started to ascend, Gibbs reached across his friend and killed the power on the elevator.
"When were ya gonna tell me, Tobias?"
"Tell you what, Gibbs?" Fornell asked, wondering what he had done wrong this time.
"When were you gonna tell me about the chatter you guys picked up on ?"
"It was need to know, Gibbs. And you didn't need to know."
"Well, I need to know now, Tobias."
"Alright. I had a couple of my cyber agents monitoring online chatter after we got an anonymous tip pointing to an active terror cell. We tracked them through a private messaging site."
"Let me guess. ."
"You guessed it."
"Yeah, well now we've got a dead guy whose government secrets are being sold on that website." Gibbs' cell phone rang. Fornell reached across him and flipped the power switch on the elevator, hearing it hum back to life as it took them both back up to the squad room.
It was McGee. "Boss, I've been tracking local activity on the website and I just got a hit. Someone logged onto Petty Officer Reynolds' account three minutes ago. Someone's using his account to sell intel even after he's dead."
"Where, McGee?" Gibbs asked impatiently, watching the numbers on the elevator wall slowly tick upwards as them climber floors painfully slow.
Gibbs heard his agent typing furiously in the background. "Running a trace now."
The elevator dinged and the doors parted. Both agents strode into the bullpen and Gibbs beelined for McGee's desk. "The signal is coming from the corner of West and 9th."
"Gear up."
The team arrived at the scene minutes later. The car's tires squealed to a halt as Gibbs, McGee, DiNozzo, and Ziva jumped out of the car. Tony scanned the scene. They had conveniently arrived at an Internet cafe. They walked across the street, zipping up their coats against the biting wind. As they strode in the cafe, the team spread out, glancing behind people to get a glimpse of their computer screens.
McGee spied someone trying to pack up their things in a hurry, and walked over to a table situated in the corner of the cafe by a fireplace. "Excuse me, sir?" he asked, placing a hand on the man's forearm. The man grabbed McGee's hand and spun around, launching the agent towards the fireplace with all of his weight. McGee managed to twist and avoid the bulk of the structure, but slammed his hand against some of the hot bricks close to the fire.
He cried out and jerked his hand away from the fireplace. "McGee!" Gibbs yelled from across the cafe.
"Red hoodie!" McGee yelled, holding his injured hand close to his body. He groaned as he stood up and watched the rest of his team tackle the suspect to the ground, cuff him, and lead him outside.
"Let me see," Gibbs said as Tony and Ziva were busy escorting the suspect to the car and documenting his personal belongings so they could go to Abby.
"Boss, I'm fine," McGee said, not wanting anyone to know how bad it really did hurt.
Gibbs just glared at him. "Lemme see."
McGee blew out a big breath long and slow as he uncurled his burnt hand. The red and skin was peeling off in some parts and was radiating heat as it began to blister.
"Get that checked out, McGee."
The agent shook his head. "At least go see Ducky. That's an order."
Ziva walked into the squad room to McGee grumbling under his breath as he tried to type at his computer.
"What is wrong, McGee?" she asked.
"It's impossible to type with this stupid thing." He held up his right hand hand that the NCIS ME had so generously decked out in fluffy gauze and white medical tape.
"It looks like a snowball," Ziva smiled, walking over to her friend's desk.
"Fa la la la la," McGee grumbled.
"Don't be such a grinch," Ziva said. "On the bright side, it looks like we have a real suspect."
"Yeah?"
"Abby identified him as Mr. Renan Walsh. He works in the private sector developing computer software for the Navy."
"What kind of software?" McGee asked.
"Secure communications networks."
"Call Gibbs."
"No need to call, McGee. Go." Gibbs and Tony walked into the squad room together. The whole team gathered around the plasma.
"Boss, I've been sifting through all the conversations Walsh has had on the website and they all look to be related to our case. He's made countless deals selling Navy intelligence online in the password- secured chatrooms. The thing about those chat rooms is that although they're secure against the average user, anyone with a basic knowledge in hacking could get in."
"The point?"
"The point is that I tried hacking into his chat rooms without being logged onto his account, and I haven't been able to get in yet."
"You a little off your game today, McBooboo?" Tony asked, raising his right hand and wagging it back and forth. He was rewarded with a head slap from the team's leader.
"I think he used some of the software he was developing at Wichter Inc to secure the chatroom."
"Tony, McGee- pay Wichter Inc a visit. Ziva- with me in Interrogation."