Chapter Eight
Meet the Captains

Gibbs, together with DiNozzo, is less than halfway to their destination and deeply frustrated at being trapped in heavy and slow moving traffic that covers this entire portion of the City of Politics when his cell phone rings. "Yeah, Gibbs."

/Boss,/ McGee's voice comes through the unit, /I found something in the link I established with Elizabeth Stillwell's work computer./ When he and Gibbs had visited Mayflower Management, McGee had had a few minutes to work on their target's desktop computer while Gibbs had kept Cristos Paulakis' attention elsewhere.

"What've you got?"

/Since Elizabeth became Zabeth, I wondered what happened to those other letters. Stillwell is responsible for managing several properties. One of them has a Studio apartment leased to an Eli Barns. Barns is her mother's maiden name./

"Check it out."

Gibbs puts the phone away, relaying the pertinent information to DiNozzo. They'd left Headquarters too long ago, congested traffic slowing the senior agent from his customary headlong pace. The President is meeting today with the Russian President and officials never have mastered the art of keeping traffic moving in the face of heightened security. Helos are the way, an idea that no one seems able to implement without tying up traffic anyway. Though their destination is directly across town Gibbs remonstrates himself for not having gone the long way around the city. Next time he will keep abreast of White House activities; McGee and the others will probably reach their destination before he reaches his.

At least DiNozzo has sense enough to remember Miranda's first Right.

xxx

McGee, David and Palmer pull up before a twelve story, seventy family unit very conveniently located a block from the Stillwell's apartment. It is obvious that this, together with the fact that Elizabeth Stillwell, whether in her own persona or Zabeth's, can manipulate the records of this property that led her to choose it.

The one room studio the agents seek is at the far end of a hall on the seventh floor and the door's lock succumbs quickly to Ziva's lock picking skills.

McGee, as senior agent, directs their tactics. Unable to assume their quarry is not inside, they'll go in quietly, quickly, ready to cover and subdue Stillwell if she's inside. Guns out, they'll move in in a rapid bishop-queen-bishop movement that will cover the room immediately. Quietly turning the knob of the unlocked door, he counts off three seconds and shoves the door, going straight in while the women cut wide to each side.

Four rapid steps and the agents cover an unoccupied room. The door to their left is open, displaying an equally vacant bathroom. They have no human - or Romulan - target.

That's not to imply the trip has been wasted.

"Wow," is all McGee can think of to say, looking upon a Trek armorer's dream.

x

If the house belonging to John Carson, filled as it was with a vast collection of fantasy collectable weapons that covered every wall of every room, was distressing, this one is no less so even for its specialized focus.

While there are an impressive number of Federation and Klingon weapons spanning more than a century's worth of development, the main emphasis is on Romulan designs, from 40 year old hand disruptors to those used in the most recent theatrical movie, 'Nemesis'.

"An impressive collection," Ziva grants, closing and relocking the door. Her tone indicates she's less impressed with the effort amassing a staggering variety of non-functioning weapons.

"She must have been collecting these for decades," Tim says, walking along the walls. The collection in Stillwell's official residence was impressive enough, this even more so despite its deadly intent.

"Waste of money; she is supposedly an operative and yet these will operate only in her own mind."

"I wouldn't be too sure," Michelle counters, pointing to a Klingon D'k tahg, a three bladed dagger, the middle blade flaring to over two inches wide, the others designed to snap out from the hilt at the touch of a disguised switch. "I wouldn't want to get stabbed by this."

"All right, I will grant you the bladed weapons are dangerous but–" She halts, scrutinizing a particular gun. "I give it back. Tim?"

He's not inclined to correct her; the change in her tone is enough to snatch his attention. He and Michelle converge with Ziva in front of a Romulan 1960's disruptor. "What is it?" Rather than answering directly, she points to what ought to be the ray emitter of the weapon. "Are those what I think they are?" he asks, hoping to be wrong.

"Oh, yes," she says with a smile; now she's impressed. "Electrodes. It is a taser."

McGee removes the weapon from the wall and inspects it closely, his hand well clear of the trigger. Tasers come in all ranges of power, and judging by the weight alone this one's battery could be enough to deliver a massive jolt.

He looks around the room at the weapons that surround them, this time with a new respect.

xxx

Failing to locate William Rolonio through normal methods, Gibbs and DiNozzo track his friends in hopes that one of them have seen him or can point in the right direction.

Today, reluctant though he is, Gibbs must go to other fen, in this case the Captains of the other 'ships', the seven clubs comprising the Maryland fleet under 'Commodore' Rolonio. The closest one, itself an aggravating distinction considering the loss of time in Washington bottleneck traffic, is the SS Columbia, a group of over thirty young men and women, none of whom Gibbs believes he'd want aboard a real ship. This one is helmed by Patricia Holmes who, in real life, is Office Manager in the Accounting department of Arrow Inc.

They are guided to their target's office by the department Receptionist, Peggy Modaff, a rather comely young woman DiNozzo evidently doesn't mind following. Passing through the collection of cubicles that fill the entirety of the sixth floor of an otherwise unremarkable office building on H Street NW, Gibbs is more attentive to the questions he intends to put to this captain and less to DiNozzo or the Receptionist.

He half hopes the man will step out of line, to give him an excuse to work off some frustration in a series of scathing reprimands when they're alone again. For now, he holds his patience as they're led to the open door of the corner office.

"Ms. Holmes, these are the gentlemen you were expecting," Modaff reports as though she hadn't announced the agents from her desk less than a minute before.

When Gibbs steps into the office he's surprised, not by the stately office itself but by the woman who commands it. Far from the pimply Yuppie he'd expected, the woman is on the high side of fifty. In the moment it takes him to enter the room, he's already pushed down his surprise, sized her up and reads in her eyes that she's done the same in turn. "You're Patricia Holmes?" He's not entirely certain yet that he shouldn't be looking for this woman's daughter.

x

"Yes, how may I help you?"

The Agents display their identifications and introduce themselves. "Do you know a Mr. William Rolonio?"

"Very well." Her smile fades as quickly as it had appeared. "Is there a problem?"

"Perhaps. How do you know him?"

"He's a member of a group I belong to."

"You're Captain Holmes of the SS Columbia?"

"Yes, but it's not Navy," she works to contain her growing discomfort. "Perhaps you'd like to sit down, tell me what's happening?" There is one chair and Gibbs takes it.

"We think Mr. Rolonio might be in danger, but so far we haven't been able to find him."

"What sort of danger?" Gibbs answers with silence. "What can I do to help?"

"Do you know an Elizabeth Stillwell? She's from your organization."

Holmes closes her eyes for a second, evidently searching for the name. "Sorry, I don't know her."

"When was the last time you saw Mr. Rolonio?"

"I think it was about a month– no, more than a month ago." Her gaze flickers to the door behind the men. "I … we're pretty busy here. Coming up on End-of-Quarter, tax season rolling in, I don't have as much time for socializing as I'd like."

"It would help our investigation if we understood more about your group. What is Columbia?"

x

Holmes shrugs. "Stripping away the trimmings, we're a group of thirty-three men and women who get together once or twice a month for socializing, fandom, that sort of thing. We have practical duties too. Columbia organizes a Blood Drive three times a year out of Midwood Farms. We arrange for the blood mobile, register people, help out, make calls and so forth. Three of our members, my 'First Officer' among them, also volunteer at a Food Pantry run out of St. Ephraim's Church. Everyone in Starfleet is supposed to contribute something to the community we live in. It's not a condition of membership, but we encourage it."

"Does the phrase 'Gideon Council Chamber' mean anything to you?"

"Beyond the Classic episode?" She thinks it over. "Not especially, why?"

He decides he needs to find out what Michelle Palmer has gleaned from that film. He'll call when he leaves this office and she had better not disappoint him. "We think Rolonio's location may have something to do with that."

A bit more thought. Gibbs' impression is that Holmes thinks things over a lot before she says them. "Sorry, I don't know."

"But you haven't seen him in about a month?" DiNozzo clarifies.

"No."

"What is Rolonio to your organization?"

Again the consideration. "Basically he's a coordinator, makes sure everything runs smoothly. If there's anything Fleet-wide – there are seven ships in Maryland – he organizes it and makes sure everything's working."

"Is there anything going on 'Fleet-wide'?" DiNozzo asks.

Holmes sighs. "Honestly, I've been so swamped here that my private life takes second place - and for the next month or so fandom takes third. I have my contacts, an email buddy list, Facebook, but on the whole I haven't had the time to follow things."

"Do you have a list of your counterparts, the captains of the other ships?" He has information from the web, but that is notorious for getting outdated quickly.

"That I can do." She turns to her computer, manipulates some files and, in less than a minute a list of names and addresses comes out in two pages from the printer. "This is a list of the senior officers of all the ships."

Gibbs accepts the papers. Captains, First and Second Officers, Communications Officers and Bursars, the list is no problem to translate. He hands the papers to DiNozzo, who has their own list out. "Let us know if you hear from Rolonio," Gibbs directs as he hands the woman one of his business cards.

xx

"We go to Edson now?" DiNozzo asks as they hit the street. The man is captain of the SS Saratoga, the second contact on Ziva's list.

It's nearly four-thirty. This investigation is going too slowly. "Have the others to meet us there. I want a Trekkie there when we interview the rest of these people."

"Trekker," DiNozzo reminds him. For this he earns a belated 'wake-up call'. "Thank you, boss."

They get in the car and depart swiftly, but before DiNozzo can use his phone, Gibbs' rings. When he answers it, it's to a surprising and unsettling report that he puts on the speaker so he can drive and for DiNozzo's benefit. It concludes with /we found four weapons that've been modified into, or possibly sold originally as, real weapons. There's a taser, a dart gun and two real guns./

"Confiscate everything; we'll sort it out later." If they can diminish Zabeth's supply of weapons, it can only help.

/Boss, there're three empty spaces on the walls, I've no way to know what was there, and the closet is empty but the positions of the hangers make me think something was there./

"You figure we're looking for a Romulan, McGee?"

"Her uniform, or one of them, was in her bedroom, but as to what she's wearing, I'm clueless./

"I'm gonna let that slide," DiNozzo quips.

"Gather everything, meet us at Hempstead Arms apartments."

xxx

Michael Edson, Captain of the Saratoga, is Security Supervisor on the 1600 to 0000 shift at a four building Apartment Complex on U Street NW.

Gibbs and DiNozzo rendezvous with McGee's car en passant and the agents drive to the complex, where they must clear the Security Booth at the main gate, a radioed call alerting Edson to their arrival. They park in front of the first building and cross the short walkway to the glass door and huge window which display the entire front lobby stark against the dimming light. Outer and inner glass doors beside the Security station form an 'airlock' they must clear to enter the lobby.

The well lighted interior speaks of an overabundance of opulence, the mahogany and gilt chamber more pretentious than portentous, while the shining leather couches seem to reflect management's determination that no one will mar their perfection by sitting on them.

The agents are met beyond the inner Security desk by a tall blond man wearing a navy blue suit rather than the quasi-military uniforms of his subordinates. Edson leads them down a corridor past the elevators and a sharp left into the offices, which are as cramped and drab as the lobby is opulent. It's clear no expense has been spent for the two-room Security Office; the rooms were probably painted when the building was erected and the furniture, such as there is, would be denied a place at any flea market or garage sale in the country.

The outer and inner offices would fit within Gibbs' bullpen, though Michelle Palmer would find her desk crammed into the rear bathroom. Tony notes a Duty Roster for 17 officers posted on the corkboard beside him, and is certain no attempt will ever be made to hold a general meeting here. Gibbs and Edson fit into the front office, DiNozzo in the short corridor outside the door with Ziva beside him looking in while McGee and Palmer, relegated to the inner office, are denied a view of the proceedings.

x

"So, what can I do this evening for NCIS?"

"We understand you're the Captain of your Star Trek group, the SS Saratoga."

"That's right," he says uncertainly. He'd expected his guests - Federal Agents - to be here in connection with the complex he and his officers protect, not the hobby of his faux ship.

Gibbs is particularly aware of the time, or the diminishment of it. "We're looking for Mr. William Rolonio. Do you know him?"

"Sure I know him. We call him the 'Commodore'. Is anything wrong?"

"We think something might have happened to him."

"What?"

It seems as much concern as desire for information, but he's not going to volunteer anything. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"Day before yesterday. He looked fine."

'Finally', Gibbs thinks, 'someone who's seen him this month.' "Do you know where we can find him?"

"Sure. I was supposed to be with him tomorrow, only I can't make it. I'm on 'till midnight and then have 1600 tomorrow. I had to bow out. He's holed up with some of the other Captains – the presidents of the other groups – and some Admirals and the heads of all the other groups in Maryland."

"Where is this?"

"At Gideon."