Abby and Palmer looked at each other in growing horror as they realized what that meant.

Ducky sat at the table in the FBI interrogation room twiddling his thumbs as he glanced around. It wasn't too dis-similar to the one in NCIS; same one-way mirror, walls that offered little to look at, basic table and chairs, cameras watching him, even the waiting for long periods of time that Jethro preferred. Then again the core concept of integration was the same everywhere…unless of course it was being preformed by Marcin Jerek…

The door swung open violently and Ducky didn't outwardly twitch as he was pulled out his dark thoughts, instead waiting a moment for the Agent who had handcuffed him to process that he was unaffected before easily rising to his feet. "We were never introduced, I'm Doctor Donald Mallard, but I'm sure you already knew that. I am afraid, however, that I never caught your name, Agent…?"

She was blonde, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, though her roots were gray as though she hadn't scheduled an appointment to get her hair touched up. Given her bone structure and the stress lines around her eyes, he would put her around or a little under Tony's age. She stepped to her side of the table slapping her folder onto it. Ducky raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Sit down," she said.

Ducky stood firm, glancing at Agent Fornell who quietly walked into the room, shutting the door behind him. Slowly Ducky sank back into his seat. "I would still like to know your name."

She made no move to answer him, instead flipping open the file, tilting it up and making a show of looking at papers like she was reading a book. "Have you ever been to France, Mr. Mallard?"

"I have, back in my youth I used to travel all sorts of places. Not many people realize how small Europe really is. Going to Paris from London is as easy as going to New York from DC here the United States. Why I remember this one time I was in Rome with a friend when he ran into an old girlfriend. We missed the flight home and we ended up in Albania." Ducky smiled at the memory, "We were in so much trouble when we finally made it back."

"Why did you end up in Albania?" She asked, closing her folder.

"Well you see Agent…?" Ducky said giving her an inquiring look.

"DeForest," Fornell said.

The Agent, DeForest, gave Fornell an annoyed look, which Fornell gave a disbelieving double eyebrow raise in return.

"Well you see Agent DeForest," Ducky said, pretending not to notice the exchange, "the girl that we had run into lived in Albania at the time and she wanted my friend to help her with something. And I could tell that he was going to get himself in trouble so, regrettably, I ended up tagging along."

"What kind of trouble?" DeForest asked.

"Oh, nothing that couldn't be fixed by talking to some locals in a bar, they just needed some outside help to sort it out."

"Is that so?" she asked, "than why was it regrettable?"

"Because, she was married at the time, to someone not my friend, and he was practically still head over heels for the girl. I felt sorry for him when he finally realized how in love with her husband she was."

"Is that all?" DeForest asked.

"Well, yes. Why? Were you expecting me to say that I jumped out of a tree like Errol Flynn and literally beat the trousers off of two Albanian police officers?" Ducky asked, amused.

"Did you?" Fornell asked intrigued. Ducky looked at him over the top of his glasses while DeForest gave him another annoyed look. Fornell shrugged. "Just curious."

Ducky turned his attention back to DeForest and leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "Excuse me, but what do misspent holidays in my youth have to do with an FBI investigation?"

"I have a question," DeForest said also leaning forward. "The friend from your story, was his name Napoleon Solo?"

"I just gave you his social security number…No, I don't know his driver's license number," McGee said into the phone, "Okay, where do I find that?"

"Okay, thank you," Tony said, before dropping the phone back onto its cradle. "'Nother dead end, Doctor Doyle didn't meet Ducky until he was working at NCIS. I'm starting to think he didn't have any friends before becoming a doctor."

Gibbs didn't look up from his computer. "Keep trying, DiNozzo. Ziva?"

"I have found that Illya Nockovitch Kuryakin is actually Ukrainian, though as that was part of the Soviet Union at fifty years ago it hardly matters. He was born in Kiev, joined the Russian Navy at sixteen, and then transferred into the KGB when he was twenty."

"And," Gibbs prompted.

"And?" Ziva repeated.

Gibbs nodded. "And."

"Gibbs, I've been on the phone for hours and that is all the solid information I have found. Everything else is just rumors. It's almost as if after joining the KGB he just vanished. Getting that much about the man was like pulling hair."

"I think you mean teeth," McGee said, bitterly muffling the phone against his shoulder before returning it to its normal position.

"No, I meant my own hair," Ziva said.

"Say that next time," Gibbs said before looking across the bullpen, "McGee."

McGee rocked forward like he wanted to slam his head against his desk but stopped himself in time. "Boss, I've got his birth certificate, I've got his social security number, I've got his naturalization records, I have his medical license, thank you NCIS, and I have his home address. Is that it? Can you think of anything else that I need?"

"Baby pictures?" Tony sarcastically threw out.

"Hahaha," McGee shot back equally sarcastic.

"His passport," Gibbs suggested.

"On hold with them right now," McGee said with a nod.

"Don't forget his military record and his national insurance number," Gibbs said.

"His what?" McGee asked.

"National insurance number, it's the British equivalent to the US social security number," Ziva explained.

"Why do you know that?" Tony asked and Ziva shrugged.

"Boss, I'm having a hard enough time getting his passport," McGee protested.

"Good," Gibbs said.

"Good?"

"Yeah, means that someone didn't plant it," Gibbs said.

McGee nodded. "Meaning he's a real person."

"Uh-huh."

"So, will getting his British social be just as hard?" McGee asked, dreading the answer.

"Probably."

"Great," McGee muttered. "Yes, I'm still here."

Tobias Fornell was becoming very happy that DeForest was the one in charge of this case as Doctor Mallard derailed her line of questioning with yet another story. Thinking back to how DiNozzo had been and now the with the NCIS Medical Examiner giving them a hard time Tobias was starting to wonder if Gibbs held seminars on how to be difficult during an internal investigation.

"Mr. Mallard," DeForest cut Ducky off mid-story, "Were you ever in Russia?"

"As a matter of fact I was, two years ago there was a seminar about dental identification that was going in, oh where was it? I want to say Tambov. It was rather interesting, the lead doctor, I don't recall his name, detailed the difference of dental work between America, Australia, England and South Africa. I know that South Africa sounds like a bit of an outlier but it actually has a fast growing dentistry-"

"Were you ever in Russia during the 1960's?" DeForest amended, tightly.

"Oh, travel to Russia during the Cold War was rather difficult at the time. I mean when the Berlin Wall was standing travel to one side of the city to the other was considered nearly impossible. Did you know that it has been estimated that over two hundred people died trying to illegally cross the wall but officially it's less than a hundred-"

"Did you ever know a Napoleon Solo?" DeForest asked again, her voice sharp.

"I thought I already answered that one," Ducky said, faintly amused.

"No, you just gave us a short biography about Napoleon Bonaparte," Tobias said.

"I'm sorry that's just the first thing that came to mind. However coming back to Russia, Napoleon Bonaparte did try to invade Russia in, oh, I think it was 1812, which may have been the campaign that doomed his career more than the Battle of Waterloo as winter tends to set in-"

DeForest stood suddenly and Doctor Mallard stopped, looking at her in confusion.

"I need to use the lady's room," She glanced at Tobias. "Coming?"

Tobias raised an eyebrow. "I don't need to use the lady's room."

DeForest narrowed her eyes at him and left, slamming the door behind her.

"Was it something I said?" Doctor Mallard asked, entirely too innocently.

Tobias gave him a look. "You're being difficult on purpose."

"Agent Fornell, did you notice that all the papers in file she's been looking at have been redacted?" Tobias opened his mouth to ask and Ducky pointed at the one-way mirror. "I saw it in the reflection."

"Ah."

"Um, Agent Fornell," Ducky said, sounding a little unsure, "I do have a favor to ask. You see it's my birthday today-"

"Oh, happy birthday," Tobias said, honestly meaning it. "I can't let you out."

"Oh, no, I'm not asking you to," Ducky said, "It's just, I had dinner plans with my cousin tonight, and I was hoping I could give a call to let him know I probably won't be able to make it."

"I could call him for you," Tobias offered.

"Thank you. Oh, and do tell Albert that I hope he and Angelique have made up; they really are a cute couple." Ducky said, writing down his cousin's contact information.

"No problem," Tobias said, taking the scrap of paper. "Can I get you anything? A bottle of water?"

"Yes, thank you."

"I'll be back," Tobias promised, stepping out of the room. Tobias stepped into a corner and pulled out his cellphone dialing the number on the paper. It wasn't long before Ducky's cousin answered.

"Albert Stroller."

"Hi, my name's Tobias. I'm calling on behave Doctor Mallard, he, uh, he says he's sorry that he probably won't make it to dinner tonight."

"Is everything alright?" Albert asked alarmed.

"It's nothing to worry about just something came up," Tobias assured him. "He's actually more worried about you and Angelique than what's got him tied up."

"…Is that so?"

"Yeah, hopes the two of you will work it out since you two make a cute couple."

"I see… well I make no promises. Let him know I got the message. Goodbye."

"Bye…" Tobias hung up. While his gut did not have the legendary status Gibbs's did it wasn't useless; for some reason it was telling him that he'd just been played. Tobias dialed another number.

"Gibbs."

"Hey, we need to talk."

"Hey, what are you doing here?" Abby asked her music at a comfortable level as Jimmy came power walking in.

"Sorry, it was just really quiet down in the morgue without Doctor Mallard. But then again, you know, the morgue has never been very lively," Palmer gave Abby a huge smile, chuckling at his own joke.

Abby shot him an unimpressed look.

Palmer gave her a nervous look. "Cause you see, the morgue is where we put dead people so it can't-"

"I got it, Jimmy," Abby said.

"Yeah, so, anyway I finished up all the paperwork that I can without Doctor Mallard and since all the other investigations are on hold…" Palmer shrugged. "How's it going down here anyway?"

"Sucky, I compared the five pictures of Kuryakin to each other and they are definitely the same guy in each one," Abby said, gesturing to the screen.

"I thought we already knew that," Palmer said.

"Rule number three: Never believe everything you're told; double check!" Abby said, putting a finger in Palmer's face.

He leaned back, looking at her finger. "I thought rule three was 'never be unreachable'?"

"No, that's rule three of Gibbs rules. Rule three of Crime Scene Investigations is double check," Abby turned back to her computer.

"Wait, there's a separate set of rules? Or is it like a subsection?" Palmer asked, relaxing without the finger in his face.

"The number doesn't matter, Jimmy, following the rules is what matters," Abby explained.

Palmer nodded in feigned understanding.

"However," Abby said getting the conversation back on track, "running the five against Ducky's picture from this year does suggest that they are the same guy."

"Suggest?" Palmer asked alarmed.

"Well, it's well within the parameters of Ducky's age," Abby admitted, unhappily. "Keep in mind, it's like, a fifty year difference."

"Well, what about our control?" Palmer asked.

Abby turned to Palmer with a Cheshire cat grin. "Running that as we speak."

Abby's computer chimed and she turned to it still smiling. "Right on time. And the results are…"

Palmer looked at Abby as the smile slid off of her face. "What? What's wrong?"

"I ran the picture against the ones of our Russian spy…" Abby explained her voice hollow.

"Yeah, and?"

"And the picture you grabbed of Ducky is definitely of Illya Kuryakin."

Abby and Palmer looked at each other in growing horror as they realized what that meant.