Palmer twisted the phone cord with his finger, looking at the tiger and desperately hoping he was doing the right thing.

"The rumors I've been getting have been less than helpful," Ziva said staring at the plasma. "No one knows for sure what happened to Kuryakin just that he existed and he's out of the spy game. I've heard that he's now a dress maker, that he died on a personal vendetta against some army general, he recently wrote a crime novel -"

"And now the FBI's saying he became a medical examiner for NCIS," Tony said.

"Something that we have proven," Palmer said dejectedly from Tony's desk.

"Stay positive, gremlin," Tony said, "stay positive."

"No, please don't put me on hold again!...And I'm on hold," McGee buried his face in his hand.

"Even more baffling is that I can't seem to find two people who agree who he was spying for! The Russians, the Americans, the Spanish, the French, some small countries that no longer even exist! It's getting to the point that it might be easier to list who he didn't spy for! The man spent years scramming all over the globe!"

Tony slowly nodded his head. "I don't even know what you were trying to say nor do I want to, but I get it. Carry-on-kin probably did not settle down to 2.5 kids and a white picket fence or whatever the Russian dream is."

"I just can't believe that Doctor Mallard might have been lying to us the whole time," Palmer said.

"What did I just say about being positive?" Tony asked.

"I'm trying, Tony, but you can't find anyone who knew Doctor Mallard when he was younger and now with Abby matching the pictures? I mean, does that mean that Doctor Mallard was some kind of…" Palmer waved his hands in the air looking for the word.

"He was a MERCENARY!" Ziva shouted causing everyone near her and a few passerby's to jump. "THAT'S why we can't figure out who he was spying for! He was spying for whoever was paying him! Hah!"

Palmer gestured to Ziva. "That."

"Okay. That does it. Up, stop being mope-y in my chair," Tony said, pulling Palmer out of his area.

"I'm sorry, Tony, it's just, I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around that Doctor Mallard might not be…Doctor Mallard."

Tony slapped Palmer upside the head. "Stop that. Okay, so we hit a few road blocks. The best we have is circumstantial evidence. Which means that the best the FBI has is also circumstantial evidence. Now," Tony pushed a button on the remote, pulling up Ducky's picture from his NCIS file onto the plasma, "look me in the eye and tell me that you truly believe that that man was a Russian spy."

Palmer looked at the screen then at Tony who raised an eyebrow.

Palmer reached forward grabbing the remote from Tony and clicked a button. "Okay, look me in the eye and tell me she wasn't a spy for the Chinese."

Tony turned and looked at the plasma. "I was not aware that John Cena was a woman. That outfit looks good on her."

"What?" Palmer turned to see that he had in fact pulled up a promotional photo for WWE. Palmer looked down at the remote. "How did I even do that?"

"The remote is a cruel mistress. Not everyone can handle it," Tony said.

"Uh, what, what button do I need to push?" Palmer asked.

"Depends, what are you trying to do?" Tony asked in return.

"I was trying to pull up a picture of Agent Lee."

"Why would we have a picture of her on the plasma right now?" Tony raised an eyebrow.

"Why do you have a picture of John Cena on there?" Palmer countered.

"Good point, give me the thing," Tony took the remote from Palmer clicking a few things and pulling up Agent Lee's old NCIS profile picture. "There you go."

"Thank you, now look me in the eye and tell me she wasn't a spy for the Chinese."

"I can. Mainly because we have no idea who she was working for but also because all dramatic tension is gone. John Cena, ruins most dramatic things I noticed," Tony said.

"Okay, but my point, Tony, is that I'm tired of the people I can about turning out to be spies," Palmer said.

"Didn't you sleep with Agent Lee? Multiple times?" Ziva asked her attention still on the plasma.

"I, ugh, well, yes. I did," Palmer admitted.

"There something you want to tell us about you and Ducky?" Ziva asked looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Uh, what? No. Please, guys just take this seriously!"

"Palmer, I promise you, we are taking this very seriously," Tony said, laying a hand on the other man's shoulder.

"Yes, I'm still here!" McGee snapped into the phone, "I've been here long to think your hold music should be outlawed by the Geneva Convention!"

"Ziva and I are taking this seriously," Tony amended. "And I get it. You're worried that Ducky isn't who he says he is but there is something that you need to remember:" Tony pushed another button pulling up Gibbs NCIS profile picture. "That Lee couldn't last more than a year with Gibbs on her, the only reason she lasted four here is 'cause Gibbs wasn't in regular contact with her. Now, with that in mind; do you honestly think that Doctor Donald 'Ducky' Mallard could have fooled Gibbs? A man that he has known longer than you, longer than me, longer than anyone in this entire building and longer than most of Gibbs's marriages."

Palmer looked at the plasma, wilting slightly under the photo's look. "Well…no."

"Trust me, Gibbs would know if Ducky had some deep, dark secret like being a Russian spy," Tony said, "Now, get your stuff and go home. Also take the stairs."

"Take the stairs? Why?" Palmer asked.

"Because judging by the amount of people not taking the elevator; Gibbs is four and a half floors into questioning Fornell."

"…and now DeForest keeps trying to catch him in non-answers," Fornell said, leaning against the wall of the elevator.

"What's DeForest's game?" Gibbs asked, pacing in the small space.

"No clue, but I do know that she's also after someone named Napoleon Solo."

Gibbs paused mid-step.

The big wig dropped a loaded gun onto the desk. "Shoot that man."

The Uniform nodded, taking the gun and turning to the man tied to the chair. The Uniform's eyes widened as another KGB pulled the sack off the man tied to the chair.

"Napoleon," The Uniform said in shock.

The man in the chair, Napoleon Solo, glanced around the room and eyed the gun in the Uniform's hands warily.

"You know him?" Fornell asked, noticing the pause.

"Crossed paths," Gibbs admitted. "What is it about, anyway?"

Fornell shrugged, running a hand over his balding head. "Don't know. You'd think by the way DeForest is acting that this was her first time leading a case. I almost took it from her."

"Why didn't you?" Gibbs asked.

"Higher ups say if took over one more case they'd put me on suspension just to force me to take a break." Fornell sighed, "It's really been getting on my nerves not knowing what's going on with this one, though."

"Yeah, mine too," Gibbs agreed. "You got a theory?"

"Yeah, rumor has it Kuryakin liked to team up with Solo so maybe there was a job they did that now DeForest needs."

"Or a job Solo did solo that she needs."

Fornell glared at Gibbs. "DiNozzo's rubbing off on you."

Gibbs gave a small smirk. "So what kind of job?"

"God, Gibbs, that could be anything. Drugs, weapons, over throwing a government," Fornell tossed out. "Something that has an impact that would last fifty years."

Gibbs paused. "Do you know who classified the information on Kuryakin?"

"I think it was the CIA. Why?"

"We could just ask," Gibbs said, flipping the emergency switch off.

"Ask?" Fornell said skeptically as the elevator moved.

Gibbs smirked giving Fornell a look. "Yeah, ask."

Palmer had a greeting and apology to Doctor Mallard stuck in his throat. He hadn't realized how ingrained the habit was until Doctor Mallard wasn't around to hear how Agent Gibbs had shanghaied the elevator again. Palmer glanced at the clock as he gathered up his things.

"Hard to believe this whole thing only started this morning. But, you know if you really think about it, you could say, this whole thing started fifty years ago when-" Palmer snapped his mouth shut as he looked guiltily at the empty morgue. He wondered vaguely if Doctor Mallard ever did that, talk to an empty room forgetting that the bodies had been put away for the night.

He turned back to desk, a glimpse of orange catching his attention. He looked again. It was the tiger, lying forgotten in its corner.

"That this whole thing started fifty years ago," he continued, pretending that he had been talking to the tiger the whole time, it made him feel less crazy, "when Kuryakin was spying. Just it's hard to believe that Doctor Mallard, was you know, like a Russian super-spy. Though if that was the case I really should have given him the gun back when we'd been kidnapped… And I know, I know, I shouldn't believe it, but Tony is having trouble finding someone who knew Doctor Mallard before he was a doctor and-"

Palmer froze and then looked at the tiger. The tiger was a present from Doctor Mallard's cousin. Palmer reached for the address books that Doctor Mallard kept on his desk.

"Sorry, Doctor." He muttered, flipping through personal, and probably private, belongings looking for a phone number. He found the only Albert in the book in the 'S' section, several old numbers crossed out with new ones in various colors of ink written in. He carefully found the one that looked the freshest and dialed it from the office phone.

"We're sorry, the number you are trying to reach is not available-"

Palmer slammed the phone down in frustration, resting his hands on either side of the desk looking down at the blotter.

"There has to be a way-"

Palmer blinked as he realized he was staring at the blue envelope of Doctor Mallard's birthday card. He pulled the card out, flipping it open to see Albert wishing Doctor Mallard a happy birthday and…

A number where to reach him.

Palmer grabbed the phone again dialing in the number. "Residence Inn Washington, this is Mike, how can I help you?"

"Uh, room 418 please," he said, looking at the card.

"One moment." There was a burst of static then it started to ring.

A new voice answered. "Albert Stroller."

"Uh, hi, are you, are you the Albert who shares an uncle, Great-Uncle, with Doctor Mallard?"

"Yes, may I ask who's calling?"

"Oh, uh, sorry, I'm Mr. Palmer, Jimmy, Jimmy Palmer. I work with Doctor Mallard."

"Ah, yes, the young man who Ducky's always going on about. Is he in trouble? You are the second person that's called on his behave."

"I, uh, it's kinda of hard to say. Actually I was wondering: do you have any, pictures of Doctor Mallard? Of when he was younger?" Palmer twisted the phone cord with his finger, looking at the tiger and desperately hoping he was doing the right thing.