Gibbs tugged the brim of his black hat closer to his eyes in an attempt to shield them from the stinging wind. Dust blew across the nearly empty parking lot in swirling clouds, carrying leaves and the occasional twig or piece of litter. He inhaled and felt the chill bite into his nasal passages. Winter was coming early; he could almost smell snow in the air.

He watched three flashlight beams arcing through the darkness as Tony, Ziva and McGee swept the lot. He had already decided that at least two of them would have to return at daybreak. Local PD had yet to find someone who could turn on the tall lamps in the parking lot. Not for the first time in his career at NCIS Gibbs wished murderers could keep more regular schedules.

In the distance, the imposing, blank edifice of the corporate headquarters of Callaghan Pharmaceuticals loomed. They'd been stonewalled in all attempts to enter the building, despite the fact that they had two corpses in a parking lot only accessible to Callaghan employees.

He turned his attention to a rough circle illuminated by several bright lights on folding scaffolds, at the center of which lay two dead bodies. Neither Marine Sergeant Stephen Neal nor his brother Patrick were company employees, yet both had been dumped in the pharmaceutical giant's employee parking lot.

Gibbs knelt to examine a pair of tire tracks just outside of the lighted area. His mind raced through possibilities. Terrorists? Corporate hit? Someone trying to send a less obvious message? He simply did not have enough information to make any decisions. His team continued to sweep the parking lot. They'd let him know if they found anything. He turned to the two living men in the circle of light.

"What have we got, Duck?"

"I doubt we're dealing with a primary crime scene here, Jethro. It looks to be a body drop."

"Okay. Why?"

"The angles of their arms and legs look unnatural," Palmer suggested, "like they didn't just fall this way."

"Indeed, Mr. Palmer, but I was actually referring to the lack of any blood spatter on the pavement. Even with the wind, there should be distinct sprays. We have only large pools and a few stray drops."

"And tire tracks," Gibbs added. "Time and cause of death, Ducky."

The doctor consulted his notes and turned his collar up further. "They've both been dead about four hours. On first inspection, it appears Sergeant Neal died from a single gunshot wound to the chest. I won't know until I get him back if he died instantly or from the blood loss." He beckoned Gibbs to lean over as he poked a gloved finger into the sergeant's chest. "You can see from the burns on the clothing and skin that the gun was fired from very close range, no more than a foot or so away." Gibbs followed Ducky to the second body. "Now, his brother Patrick was shot once in the head, clearly a fatal wound. And although I doubt these boys mind the cold, I would head back for a cup of tea."

"You're giving your patients tea now, Doctor?"

"Oh, heavens no. They wouldn't appreciate a good cup of Earl Grey."

Ziva squinted at the pavement, willing her eyes to focus on finding any anomalies in its regular black surface. She knelt to place a numbered yellow card next to another cigarette butt. "Don't Americans believe in ashtrays?" she muttered to herself, snapping a photograph.

"The ones who parked in my section did." She rose to see Tony walking toward her. "I only tagged three butts. Hope Gibbs wasn't expecting us to tag gum smashed into the pavement, too."

"You could suggest it to him." She swept her flashlight a few paces ahead of her and sighed in exasperation at the sight of another discarded cigarette.

"Nah, I'm sure he'll think of that for when he sends us back in the morning. Assuming we get out of here before dawn, of course." He clicked his camera as she stood, temporarily blinding her with the flash.

She blinked hard several times to clear the spots from her field of vision. "Are you just here to annoy me or do you plan to help me search this section?"

"Can't it be both?"

She paused to think of an appropriate response. A smile spread across her face as she eventually replied, "I suppose it always is with you."

He seemed to consider retorting, but said nothing. They moved in silence for a minute, working in tandem to clear the area approaching the western border of the lot.

She slowly became aware that he was spending more time watching her than looking at the ground. "What?"

"I was just thinking…earlier you said you never go anywhere without a knife. I don't remember you bringing one to bed when we were undercover."

She tilted her head to survey him. "I didn't need one. I had my gun, as I'm sure you remember."

"Not when we first got there…"

"Maybe you should have been paying closer attention to…" she trailed off as something glinted in the beam in front of her. She advanced a few paces. "What does that look like to you?"

He was standing behind her, looking over her shoulder. "Shattered glass. Looks tinted. Car window, maybe? With your driving I'm sure you have no trouble recognizing it."

She squatted to get a better look. "And with your investigative skills, I'm sure the blood on the pavement around the glass was so obvious that you simply didn't feel the need to mention it."

He knelt beside her. "Something like that." He frowned at the ground. "There doesn't seem to be much glass here, just small shards." He stood and retreated, standing just inside the white line of the adjacent parking space. "How's this sound…" He mimed aiming a gun. "Driver shoots the passenger, bullet passes through the window. Only glass in the immediate area of the impact is blown onto the pavement. Driver tries to make a getaway and freaks out when he realizes he's got a dead guy riding shotgun. Shoves him out near the exit. Peels out."

"Yes, and maybe it happened twice. There are two bodies, remember?" She pursed her lips and assessed Tony's position relative to the blood. "If the car were parked in the spot, the glass and spatter are too far back."

He re-aimed his imaginary gun. "Okay, so maybe the driver shoots a guy sitting in the back seat. Glass shatters. Driver shoots lower on the passenger. Dumps both on the way out."

She was staring in the direction his finger-gun had been pointing a few moments previous. "Assuming your theory is correct, the bullet should be somewhere over there." She aimed her flashlight at a tall row of hedges fifteen meters away. "I hate gardening."

Gibbs buried his hands in his pockets and took long strides across the parking lot toward the only agent he could see. "McGee! You find anything?"

"Just a bunch of cigarette butts and a discarded pen with a chewed cap. We get a warrant to search the building yet?"

"Nope. Company is throwing up enough red tape to decorate an elementary school for Valentine's Day."

"That's a really random analogy, boss." He glared at the younger agent. "But it certainly is vivid."

"Where'd Tony and Ziva go?"

McGee glanced toward the opposite end of the lot. "They were standing over there, where those markers are, for a while. I thought I saw them heading toward the bushes a few minutes ago."

"Tim, go back to the truck and get something to cut through those hedges with."

"You think they're trapped in the hedges?"

Gibbs restrained his slapping reflex. "It'll be easier to find whatever they're looking for if we have something to cut with. Just get the bolt cutters or something and meet me by the hedges." He started toward the bushes as McGee jogged to the truck. Stopping to study the markers McGee had indicated, Gibbs got an idea of why his agents had disappeared into the landscaping.

He walked cautiously toward a section of the hedge that was being disturbed by more than the wind. A black NCIS cap sat on the ground in front of some recently snapped branches. Every so often, a flashlight beam shone through the thick leaves. Somewhere inside the hedge, Tony and Ziva were sniping at each other.

"You see anything?"

"Yes, Tony. I found the bullet ages ago. I just enjoy thrashing around in scratchy shrubs so much that I decided not to say anything."

"Why anyone would demand a shrubbery as a bribe is beyond me."

"What?"

"Nothing. See anything now? Ow!"

"What? Now you know I can see your shin."

"Yeah, thanks for that. Man, they must be using some kind of radioactive MiracleGro on these babies. Have you ever seen hedges this thick and lush?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"About the radiation or my hedge-appreciation?"

"Both, I hope. Wait, wait. I think I…yes! Bullet!"

Gibbs remained silent through the redoubled crashing in the hedge.

"Whoa. That's wedged in there pretty good. I don't suppose you brought your garden clippers?" Gibbs inserted a mental image of Ziva's expression in the ensuing pause. "Silly question. I saw what you did to that poor plant on your coffee table."

"It was a cactus. How was I supposed to know it actually needed water on occasion?"

"So I take it horticulture isn't a required training at Moussad?"

"Undercover operations don't usually include houseplants."

"You might have had to go undercover as a florist. You'd be, like, the female Jack Byrnes. Ooh, tell me you're gonna take me down to Chinatown."

"Is any of this helping us get this bullet out?"

"I thought you were never without a solution, knife-girl."

"This is a precision instrument of attack and defense. I'm not dulling it by playing lumberjack."

"You might want to reconsider. You could go shopping on Wednesdays and have buttered scones with tea. You already wear women's clothing, but you could spend more time hanging around in bars."

"I still have my knife out, Tony."

Gibbs finally spoke up. "I sent McGee to the truck for the bolt cutters."

All movement within the hedge ceased. "Thanks, boss. That should work. Uh, how long have you been out there?"

"Too long, DiNozzo. Too long."