Tony cupped his hand and squinted into the Ford Explorer's interior. "Looks like the low-end model. Cloth seats, no CD player…I think it's only two-wheel drive. Why bother buying an SUV if you're not gonna spring for the 4x4?"

"Where is he going need it? All the roads around here are paved and fairly well-maintained." He watched Ziva hug herself tightly as a particularly strong gust of wind blew through the parking lot.

"Guess you haven't seen the pothole that ate my buddy's motorcycle. And it's not about actually going off-road; it's knowing you could." He peered into the backseat. "Doesn't look like anything is in here. We can wait in the car until our parking security guy gets back."

Ten minutes later, she was still rubbing her hands together in front of the car's dashboard vents. "How long does it take to look up a simple parking permit?"

"Maybe the office is on the other side of campus or something. But you've really never seen The Birds?"

"No."

"We're gonna have to add that to the list of movies you have to watch. What are we up to tonight, like, fifteen?"

"Tony, I have better things to do with my time than watch movies you're just going to babble on about regardless of whether or not I've seen them."

"I think watching more movies could be a real learning experience. They'd help you assimilate more American idioms, customs…"

"Like Gibbs forcing me to kiss you?"

"You know, you keep bringing that up. The lady doth protest too much, methinks."

"I am simply trying to understand why he insisted that be a part of us reconciling. It doesn't seem…American."

"Maybe you'd be clearer on it if we made up some more." He was totally unsurprised that her response was to punch him in the arm. He waited a few moments before resuming his movie chatter, "Hey, did you ever see the Mel Gibson Hamlet?"

"I preferred Olivier's. Here's our security guard."

Ziva answered her phone as the skinny kid in the overlarge hat approached their car. Tony rolled down the window. "They keep that info in a vault somewhere?"

"Naw, they just gotta make it difficult. Night guy in the office is a real jerk." He handed a piece of paper through the window. "The permit number is registered to Dr. Patrick Neal from the neurology department."

Tony scratched his hair under his hat. "He's a brain surgeon and he's borrowing his brother's truck to drive to work?"

The guard ripped another piece of paper from his notepad. "He's also got a permit for a black Mercedes S65. Vanity plate 'GRY MTR'."

"Thanks, man. We're going to hang out here until our truck shows up to tow that," he pointed to the Explorer, "back to NCIS."

"Whoa there. I can't just let you take this vehicle."

"Relax, the warrant will get here when the flatbed does. You can wait in your car to make sure if it'll make you feel better."

The kid looked at him skeptically, but returned to his own car.

Ziva was finishing her conversation. "We'll leave as soon as the vehicle is on its way to the garage." She snapped the phone shut.

"Gibbs?"

"Gibbs. Local PD found Dr. Neal's car parked on a side road about two miles from the crime scene. It looks like two people were killed in it. He and McGee are en route and he wants us to meet them there as soon as this is done."

Tony held one of the papers the security guard had handed him to his forehead. "The car is a black Mercedes, GRY MTR."

She snatched the paper from his hand and looked it over. He found it thoroughly alluring as she scrunched her eyebrows together thoughtfully. After a few moments she smiled. "Grey matter. How clever."

"Yes, what a catastrophe that he opted for neurosurgery instead of stand-up comedy." He pointed toward the road. "I think that's our flatbed. Guess we got our warrant." He opened the door and got out of the car, waving his arm over his head to flag the truck down.

The security guard was nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other outside his car. Tony winked at him. "I wouldn't worry too much about the good doctor coming back for it."

McGee stared through the lens of the camera at the black Mercedes sedan. Take the bloodstains and shattered glass away and it was a car he wouldn't mind owning. He wondered what would happen to it after they were finished with it, if would eventually pass to some sleazy used car dealer would sell it to some unsuspecting slob who would then be haunted by the ghosts of the Neal brothers. It had been done before, he was sure, but he filed it away nevertheless. He could jazz it up a little or just make it a little diverting passage that…

His thoughts were interrupted as someone pressed his finger down, setting off the flash. He turned to Gibbs with a look of surprise. "Seemed like you needed help finding the button, McGee."

"Oh, sorry, boss. I was just thinking…"

"About not apologizing constantly?"

"Uh, no. About the back window. It looks like it was partway open when the shot was fired."

"Explains why we saw the spray pattern we did on the pavement."

"Yeah, but it's cold. Why would somebody be sitting in the back with the window open?"

"Getting some fresh air? Smoking?"

"The car doesn't smell like cigarettes."

"Maybe it's being covered by the smell of blood and gunpowder."

"Definitely possible, boss." McGee turned at the sound of a pair of car doors closing.

"Anything else?"

"There aren't any tire tracks leading away, but I did see some footprints." He scanned the ground, looking for the markers he had placed. "There. The mud along the shoulder isn't quite frozen, so we may be able to follow a trail."

"Good work, McGee. Nice of you two to join us."

Tony and Ziva stood looking at the deceased doctor's car. "Sorry, boss. Flatbed's taking the Explorer back to the garage and eHHH should be here in a half hour."

"Good. That gives the three of you time to spread out and figure out how whoever left this car here got away."

"Great," Tony muttered, "I love searching back roads in the middle of the night."

McGee grinned as he heard Gibbs slap Tony. "Stop complaining, DiNozzo. It'll be dawn in another hour or so."