Thanks for all the wonderful reviews, they mean a great deal to me. Enjoy Chapter One.
Chapter One
Two Weeks Earlier
Gibbs and his team were called into a briefing in the Director's office.
"Oh, great," muttered Tony when they entered the room to find Director Jenny Shepard flanked by FBI agents Tobias Fornell and Ron Sacks. "This guy's like a bad penny."
"What does that mean?" asked Ziva.
"It means I can't get away from him."
"Tony, he was only doing his job before," Ziva said. "It's not like he's the one who framed you for murder."
"Yeah, but he really enjoyed doing his job," Tony replied. "You know, he was pretty convinced that you were a spy who killed two of their men and an informant. Why are you sticking up for him?"
Ziva's eyes narrowed. "You're right," she said, "he always seems to bring trouble for us."
Tony nodded. "We better keep an eye on McGee," he whispered. Ziva nodded in agreement.
"What?" McGee looked over at the other two agents curiously.
"Nothing," they said as they took their seats at the conference table.
"I believe you all know Agents Fornell and Sacks," the Director said.
"We've crossed paths a few times," Tony said, grinning cockily at Sacks.
"The FBI is investigating a series of murders of young women," Jenny said. "The latest one is in this area and there may be a link to the Navy, so they've asked for our assistance."
"May be?" Gibbs said, his eyebrow raised.
"The victim was a young college student who was last seen at McMurphy's Bar in Port Royal, Virginia," Fornell said. "It's a popular hangout for folks of the NSWD in Dahlgren, lots of Naval personnel."
"NSWD?" Ziva asked.
"Naval Surface Warfare Division," Tony explained.
Gibbs nodded. "Why's the FBI on this?"
"We know of two other murders with this particular MO," Fornell replied. "We think we're looking at a serial killer."
"The other women who were killed lived within a fifty mile radius of a military base," Agent Sacks explained. "We hadn't picked up on that until this last murder, when we found out the bar's biggest clientele."
"Should have picked up on that sooner," Tony said, "the minute you had a second victim." Sacks glared at him, his jaw clenched.
"It wasn't our case at the time, DiNotzo," Fornell said. "The local officials weren't convinced the murders were related and wouldn't cooperate with us. We got word of this latest murder because one of the cops investigating it actually read a bulletin from us, instead of using the paper to line his birdcage."
"Agent Gibbs," Jenny said, "I want you and your team to cooperate with Agent Fornell and his men. If there's a military connection I want it found."
"We've already had all the information sent over, as well as any forensic evidence," Fornell said.
"We can go out to the bar and question the staff," DiNozzo said, indicating Ziva, McGee and himself. "We might also be able to find some customers who were there when the girl went missing."
"You and Agent Sacks will go to the bar," Fornell corrected. "This is a joint investigation, DiNotzo; that means both our agencies investigate."
"The four of you will go," Gibbs said. "There should be a lot to cover. Fornell and I will go over the files."
"Right, Boss." The four agents filed out of the room, arguing over who was going to be in the back seat.
"Are you sure they won't kill each other?" asked Jenny.
"They might," Gibbs said.
"Want to make a bet on who'll crack first and hit the other guy?" Fornell asked.
oOoOoOo
McMurphy's Bar was a mixture of old-fashioned neighborhood tavern and cheap disco, taking the bad parts of each and crunching them together to form an establishment with dim lighting, loud music and rowdy customers. Dominating the main room was a bar scarred by years of glasses being pounded on it and cigarettes left on its edge to burn down into the dark wood. The air reeked of stale beer and tobacco.
"Well, this is a nice place," Tony said, wrinkling his nose in disgust.
"I would think you'd feel right at home, DiNozzo," Sacks said, looking around the room.
"Why would you say that?" Tony asked suspiciously.
"I don't know," Sacks replied. "It's kind of cheesy."
"Cheesy?"
"Um, Tony," McGee interrupted, "we better start interviewing witnesses." He checked his PDA. "The bartender's name is Louis Costello, he was working that night."
Tony started to grin. "You're kidding, right?"
"About what?"
"About the name, 'Louis Costello'. Lou Costello – Abbott and Costello? You know, 'Who's on first?'"
"Yes," Sacks said.
Tony looked at him, grinning. "I mean the fellow's name," he said.
"Who."
"The guy on first."
"Who."
"The first baseman."
"Stop!" Ziva said loudly.
"Before my time, Tony," McGee said.
"Yeah, well, it's before my time too, McGee," Tony replied. "It's a classic routine. Slacks and I will take him. You and Ziva question the waitresses."
"I'm surprised you don't want to question the waitresses, Tony," Ziva said.
"Are you kidding? And miss the chance to do the 'who's on first' routine?" Tony and Sacks headed toward the bar.
McGee shook his head. "This doesn't look good for us."
"Yes," Ziva replied, "it appears they have bonded over a dead comedy team."
Ziva and McGee questioned the waitstaff and learned that the bar was quieter than usual on the night of the victim's disappearance. A disaster recovery exercise had been scheduled for the Dahlgren facility and the majority of the bar's clientele were involved, making putting together a list of who was there much easier. Seven of the customers happened to be there that day on a lunch break. Ziva, McGee, Tony and Sacks divided the possible suspects up between them and conducted their interviews.
oOoOoOo
Gibbs and Fornell were going over evidence from the previous cases when the four younger agents returned, arguing over which agency gave their agents the most thorough, well-rounded training and experience, with Ziva threatening to demonstrate some of the training she received at Mossad.
"Report, DiNozzo," Gibbs barked.
"We have a list of twenty-three Dahlgren Lab personnel who were at the bar the evening Emily Groenig was killed," DiNozzo said. "Seven were at the bar for lunch, so we interviewed them. No one jumps out as a suspect yet. We're going to check to see if anyone was stationed in Pensacola during the time of the other two killings."
While Tony was reporting what they found, McGee had gone to his computer and was running down the suspects' past assignments.
"Boss," he called out, "I have something."
"Already?" Tony looked over at the younger agent. "Good work, McGee."
McGee pulled up three ID photos and initial records. "Three men were stationed in Pensacola during the specified time," he said. "Petty Officer Glen Ritter, Staff Sergeant Dennis Friberg and Captain Melvin Gibson – don't say a word, Tony."
"What?" Tony looked affronted.
"Fornell, you and Sacks take Ritter," Gibbs said, "Tony and I will take the Marine, Ziva and McGee can take Braveheart."
Tony flashed McGee a grin as the three teams set out to interview their potential suspects.
oOoOoOo
"Staff Sergeant Friberg?" Gibbs called out, approaching the young Marine. He flashed his badge and ID. "Special Agent Gibbs and Special Agent DiNozzo, NCIS."
"What can I do for you, Sir?" Friberg asked.
"We'd like to ask you some questions, about your whereabouts the other night. Do you know this woman?" Gibbs asked, showing Friberg the picture of Emily Groenig.
The young man examined the picture carefully before saying, "No, Sir, I've never seen her before."
"You were at McMurphy's Bar two nights ago?" Tony asked.
"Yes, Sir," Friberg replied politely.
"She was there that night," Gibbs said. "You didn't see her?"
Friberg shook his head. "No, Sir, "he replied, "I was engaged in conversation with another young lady."
"Does this young lady have a name?" Gibbs asked.
"Yes, Sir, Melanie Halverson," he said. "I'm afraid I don't have her number."
Tony grinned. "Didn't get lucky?"
"Sometimes you end up shooting blanks," Friberg replied, smiling. "I got a kiss and a handshake at the door."
Tony winced. "Ouch."
Gibbs was watching the young Marine closely. "What time did you take Miss Halverson home?"
"Twenty-three hundred, Sir."
"Did you go back to the bar?"
"No, Sir," Friberg shook his head, "I went back to my quarters, about twenty-three thirty."
"The night was still young, Staff Sergeant," Tony said. "Why did you go home?"
"I figured I had wasted enough time and money for that night, no sense in wasting more," he replied.
"Can anyone confirm the time you returned to Base?" Gibbs asked.
"May I ask what this is about, Sir?"
"Emily Groenig was murdered the other night. She was last seen at McMurphy's Bar," Tony replied.
Friberg looked surprised. "I'm sorry to hear that, Sir. She looked pretty young."
"She was," replied Gibbs. "Can anyone back up your story about being back by twenty-three thirty?"
"Yes, Sir, Corporal Thompson was at the desk when I reported back," replied Friberg. "Am I a suspect, Sir?"
"We're questioning everyone who was at the bar that night," Gibbs said. "You're all suspects until we rule you out."
"I understand, Sir," Friberg nodded. "I'm available if you need to ask me anything else."
"Thank you, Staff Sergeant."
On the way back to the car, Tony asked, "Why did you let him call you sir?"
"He knows something," was Gibbs' reply.
"He seemed pretty honest," Tony said, looking unconvinced. "He could be the poster boy for the Marines."
"Yeah, but he's hiding something."
oOoOoOo
When Gibbs and Tony got back to NCIS they found McGee and Ziva had already returned.
"McGee, pull up everything you can find on Staff Sergeant Dennis Friberg."
"Don't you want to know how our interview went?" asked Ziva.
"Yes, Officer David," Gibbs replied with exaggerated politeness, "I was thinking you could debrief me while McGee pulls Friberg's records. Or did you need to report to me in unison?"
"Melvin Gibson was in the emergency room from nine-thirty to three a.m. with a case of food poisoning," Ziva said. "He's not our killer."
"Ya think? McGee! Where's my info?"
"Here, Boss," McGee pulled up Friberg's service record, "Staff Sergeant Dennis Friberg – joined the Marines when he was nineteen; first in his graduating class; expert marksman, hand-to-hand combat instructor; one tour in Afghanistan and one in Iraq. He's part of the security detail at Dahlgren Laboratory."
"Like I said, Boss," Tony said. "He's a model Marine."
"There's something behind that spit-and-polish," Gibbs said, looking at the picture of the Staff Sergeant on the plasma. "Bring him in for an interview. Take Ziva with you."
The two agents grabbed their packs and headed out.
"Are you going to let me drive today, Tony?" Ziva asked, smiling beguilingly at Tony.
"I'm feeling lucky today," he said, grinning down at the Mossad agent.
"I'm an excellent driver," Ziva retorted causing Tony to snort in amusement.
"Whatever you say, Rainman."