Chapter 7

[phoof]

Ziva's face is icy and she has a knife up against the man's throat

[/phoof]

"Hello, Sheila." Her lab associate walked in with no overt curiosity as to what was going on in the research facility's space.

"Oh! Hi! I, uh, have a new test subject."

"Do tell. Another seaman? They're plentiful and mostly expendable."

She laughed. "I know. 'Lose one, the Navy will always find another.' But no, this one's not Navy, though he is DoD. And I think he'll be better. He has a keener intellect."

"Oh? Well, that can only be good. How much are we paying this one?" He turned a mellow eye in Tim's direction. Tim, for his part, was still lost in the colors he saw.

"This one's a freebee," Sheila smirked.

"Sheila, you know we talked about this…"

"But he's just right! And he was snooping around. I had to get rid of him somehow."

He sighed. "I do fear the walls are going to crash around us someday, and that may be soon. What will be your plan then, Sheila? How will you get out?"

"Nothing's going to happen," she said fiercely. "We're approaching a breakthrough! I can feel it. And what have you done lately for the company?"

"I have made contact with potential buyers. Enticed them. Told them that the dog-and-pony-show is not quite ready for demonstration, but I have them salivating."

"How many buyers?"

"Not too many. Enough so that they know they'll have to do some serious bidding. Not so many so that they feel that others will know about their 'secret weapon'."

"Good, good. Let's aim for the end of the month. Our 'volunteer' should be in perfect shape by then,"

"That's what you said about Kinsky, and look at how he wound up."

"I can drive, boss," Tony held out his hand for the MCRT truck keys. He itched to do something, in the hour-plus drive to Newport in rush hour traffic, than just be a passenger.

Gibbs shook his head. "I'll drive."

"He means, you would not drive fast enough to suit him," Ziva said with a faint smile.

"You gonna come or you gonna jabber?" Gibbs snapped. His team jumped into the truck, and Gibbs spun it out of the garage going faster than Navy Yard regulations permitted.

Ziva was working the truck's laptop as they drove. "The address McGee found is a large building, owned by Argo Fitum Ltd, which owns a number of similar old buildings in the area. This one is uninhabited except for a space leased to Nelto Thinkers. Not incorporated."

"What do they do?" asked Tony, otherwise watching scenery go by at breakneck speed.

"I cannot tell. There is little information about them. One building permit on file for them from late 2010. It only says 'research facility; non-chemical, non-biological'."

"That could describe my high school," said Tony. "I swear, some days I was sure we were lab rats for some sick, twisted plot by the principal. Or at least by my home room teacher, Mrs. Fuggly." He shuddered.

"Tony, call our contacts at the FBI and Norfolk PD. See if they've been watching the building for any reason."

"Okay, boss. Uh, you suspect something?"

"Yep. Trouble."

"Turn it off, Sheila. Our studies don't have a lot of data on long-term exposure yet."

With a sigh, Sheila complied.

Tim cried out as the colors suddenly disappeared, leaving him in a room of unpainted cinder walls, exposed pipes and small colorful things here and there.

"How are you feeling?"

Tim looked at the man standing in front of him. Did he know him? Was he that invading sailor he'd seen? Who else could he be? "Put it back!" Tim yelled. "Put it back! The colors! Now!" He squeezed his eyes shut and made a face.

The man, looking a bit surprised and disturbed, stepped aside—just in time, as a small table behind where he'd been shattered into many pieces with a boom!

"Good grief, Sheila! That's incredible!"

Tim opened his eyes again, and his face started to relax. "Who are you people?"

Sheila only said, "I think the dog and pony are ready to show, anytime."

"Boss, the FBI said they know nothing, but in the way that makes me think they know something. Norfolk PD has nothing. I spoke to an old buddy there; him, I trust."

"Don't have time to play footsie with the FBI now," Gibbs growled. "We'll have to go it alone."

"We still have McGee," Ziva said loyally. "Maybe he is working out a plan of capture right now."

"You have demonstrated the power of the mind, my friend," said the man to Tim. "It has so many more uses than most people would even dream of."

"What do you mean?"

"Properly conditioned and stimulated, we believe that the mind can be a priceless weapon…vast, deep, and of nearly-limitless power. You just proved that to be true. Your anger was directed at me, and you reached out to destroy me. Instead, I ducked, and you took out a defenseless table."

"I…that's impossible. I don't believe you."

"You should. You, and Seaman Kinsky, before you, showed how destructive you can be. All we had to do was properly tune your mind into a cloud of pleasurable images."

"The colors…"

"Yes. Then any threat to them was something you felt compelled to act upon."

Tim shook his head. Unlike Abby, he didn't harbor any openness toward Weird Stuff; the fantastical ideas expressed in supermarket check-out lanes tabloids. He was grounded in proven science. "I don't know what you were smoking, but you're never going to convince me. It's all lies and parlor tricks. Look; as far as I can see you're not doing anything illegal here. Somehow you're involved in Seaman Kinsky's life; maybe his death. I'm going to take both of you into NCIS for questioning."

"What's the charge?"

"I don't have to charge you with anything to question you. If you refuse, though…"

"This is tiresome, and I'm hungry. Leave him a bottle of water within arm's reach and let's get out of here," Sheila sighed.

Gibbs, Tony and Ziva entered the old building quietly. From the building floor plans that Ziva had downloaded, they knew where Nelto Thinkers' space was. It had two exits/entrances. Gibbs sent Tony to the far one; he and Ziva would go in front.

Feet away from the front exit, they ran into someone familiar. "Hamsel? Jock Hamsel?" Gibbs looked at the white-haired rafting company proprietor. "Little far from your river, aren't you?" It seemed to click, then. Hamsel, in whose territory the body had been found. Hamsel, now here where the case had pulled Tim.

Hamsel only put a finger to his lips, and beckoned them in, quietly. "Got your man in there. McGee. No, don't arrest me if you want him saved."

"Is that a threat?" Ziva said in the iciest of tones, a knife up against his throat. "If you have harmed McGee…"

"Put that thing away," he growled. "This is bigger than you'd believe."

Gibbs got between him and the door. "What's your role in this, Hamsel?"

Hamsel got out his ID. Jock Hamsel Meyerson, FBI, it read. "I've been building a case on these people for a year. I think we have enough to take them down."

"What's the charge?"

"Four reckless deaths in lab experiments—homicides, and I hope to get the chance to persuade the DA that it's murder. But I'm just staying one step ahead of the CIA."

"Oh?"

"These people are developing weapons—human weapons—for sale to our country's enemies."

"And you know who's behind this?"

"I do. And I'm about to blow my cover. Follow me." He opened the door.

"Jock!" Sheila said, in surprise. "We were just about to go out. Day's done." She reached for the light switch.

"Didn't I see someone else come in here earlier, Sheila? A young man? I've seen him somewhere."

"Well, that's the good news, Jock," she said with a bright smile. "We have a new test subject. And he's working out so well that we're going to get right to work on the buyers tomorrow. In fact, we might as well sell him!"

"You're not selling anyone," Gibbs said, coming in, gun leveled. Ziva was right behind him, her sig also in position.

"Agent…Gibbs, is it?" Sheila said, her voice now faint. "I don't know what you think you see, but I swear—"

"Can it, Sheila. The show's over," said Hamsel, bringing out his own Glock. "You're under arrest in connection with the murder of Robert Kinsky, Alicia Johnson, Norman Pine and Glen Horne."

"Ziva." Gibbs jerked his head, indicating she should see to Tim. They could see where he was, partway across the room.

Sheila's lab associate slipped an arm up from his hiding spot then, and turned the machine that powered the light effects back on.

"What in the world—" exclaimed Tony, who'd come in the back entrance.

"Turn that thing off!" Gibbs ordered.

Ziva had almost reached Tim's chair. She was surprised to see his face suddenly lapse into an expression of utter delight. "McGee! Relax, and I will undo your restraints."

"Hey! Watch out!" Hamsel yelled.

Tim almost cried at the return of his friends, the pretty colors. This, certainly, must be a high evolutionary point for humans. How could it not be, if it felt this good? But then a shadow passed in front of him; human-shaped, and that enraged him. "Get out of my sight!" he screamed. "Destroy you! Destroy you!"

"Ziva!" Tony cried. "Down!" And he fired.

Minutes later, they were mopping up. Sheila was handcuffed. So was the lab associate with the shoulder gunshot wound. "Didn't recognize you for a minute there without your wet suit on, Southland," Gibbs said, deceptively calmly."

Tony looked disgusted. "Too bad you can't be tried by a jury of your real peers, Southland. Most of us NCIS employees find rot in the ranks like you to be disgusting." Agent Southland only glowered.

"So that is how it happened," said Ziva. "Southland worked as an NCIS diver, but moonlighted here, and found test subjects. When Kinsky died, he and Sheila Flynn transported the body to West Virginia, not expecting it to be found."

"I think we'll find the other three bodies in the same general area," said Hamsel. "We'll start looking…with reliable divers."

"My case, Hamsel," Gibbs said firmly.

"I'm not into territories, Gibbs," said Hamsel. "I'm willing to work with you. I just want this whole thing solved."

Tim was shaking his head. "Ziva, I'm so, so sorry," he said. He wouldn't look at her. "I almost killed you. And I would have. I think. I still don't understand what happened."

"It is all right, McGee. I was not harmed."

"How did Kinsky die?" asked Gibbs. "Our ME has drawn a blank."

Hamsel shrugged. "Apparently his mind wore out. I'm not a doctor, but I'd suggest that your ME look more closely at the brain tissues. I don't think the mind was meant to take the abuse these people were giving it. It may have seemed wonderful, touching the pleasure centers of the brain, but…all that resulting mind-radiation…I've seen it, but I still don't know that I believe it."

Gibbs let Tony do the driving back to the Navy Yard.

Sitting beside Tim, Gibbs said, "You know you're in a peck of trouble, Tim."

Tim gulped. As provoked as Gibbs must be with him now, it still meant something that he had used his first name. "Yeah. I thought it would turn out better. I thought I'd have the upper hand."

"That's why we don't send agents in alone in a situation like that. You know that."

"Yeah. I do."

"Why, Tim?"

"I…screwed up in the last case, and wanted to make up for it. I wanted a plus on my record."

"You think I keep score?"

"Tony does," Ziva said lightly, thus getting a look from Gibbs.

"No, I don't." said Tony. "I lost track last year and never got around to starting to count again…don't head slap me while I'm driving, boss, thank you."

"Tim, I don't expect perfection. You all…we all…will make mistakes from time to time. All I want is for us to pick ourselves up and get going on the next assignment. Don't look back."

"McGee, I actually think you were pretty clever, figuring out the Twitter thing and the location in Norfolk," Tony smiled. "Honestly, I do."

"Really? Thanks, Tony."

Ziva leaned in from the truck's inside window. "Did you hear what Southland got out of Sheila Flynn? You did see lights at the bottom of the river. Kinsky had built up some radiation which bled out into the surrounding riverbed, and that caused the light display. Your disturbing of the water broke the effect in light refraction. It was transitory. Ducky did not even find radiation on the body, although I do not know how much he checked for it."

"That could have happened to me," Tim said, with a shudder. "Boss, are you going to put a reprimand in my file?"

Gibbs thought. "Director would have to sign off on it. And he's on vacation for another week…let's see how I feel when he gets back. I may have calmed down by then; who knows?"

"I've learned my lesson!" Tim declared.

The others were grinning.

- END -