Chasing Jack

Chapter Four

The tension that had held every muscle in Ziva's body hostage for the last several hours dissolved away as the sensation of the plane leveling out arrived. They were finally in the air. It had taken some convoluted arranging to get a flight headed north. Brunswick Naval Air Base in Maine had closed recently and the next closest naval air station was south of Boston, a three hour drive away.

Somehow Vance, who refused to agree to funding a commercial flight, had talked some official somewhere into letting the team hitch a ride on a flight going to Pease Air National Guard Base in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. They would have to drive the last sixty miles to Portland but not one of them would have complained about that detail.

At that thought Ziva shifted her gaze over towards Agent Moore. He was the newest and most junior member of the team but age wise he was two years older than Ziva. Often his quietness made him seem younger – sort of like a child who speaks only when spoken to directly. The gears in his mind were constantly churning around though. His eyes gave that away. She wondered what he thought about all this. Moore had never met Tony and had not been involved with The Wheel case at all. Now here they were racing off hundreds of miles to chase down a lead with a kind of desperation more than likely out of proportion with the value of the lead itself.

There had been so many dead ends – so many promising leads that had led nowhere other than to red hot frustration. Ziva, although grateful to be out of the office, was not investing a great amount of hope that this lead would result in much more.

She drew her gaze away from Moore and onto McGee across from her. He was in the midst of giving background information regarding the case. His voice was raised to overcome the noise of the plane and there was an intensity in his tone you rarely heard from him.

"The Wheel got started with good intentions. The families of those in the military and law enforcement agencies, mostly on the federal level, created a network for helping one another to find resources and lines of communication for issues that their families were dealing with as a result of their loved ones occupations. These were the spouses, parents, sons and daughters, significant others connecting with one another on commonly encountered issues. Perhaps they were having trouble receiving benefits they were entitled to or needed to see about financial assistance but didn't know where to start or needed help understanding paperwork or a program that was available or a similar issue. Those in the network used their individual skill sets and contacts and experiences to assist others in the group. So if one had experience dealing with health insurance benefits issues or another had a good contact in a military branch or federal agency these things could be used to assist other families experiencing difficulties in those areas. A good concept – linking family members of those in the military or federal law enforcement together to ease some of their common hurdles and help to make them not feel so alone in the process."

McGee paused and took in a deep breath before he continued. But the underlying tone of his voice had shifted and held an added trace of resentful tension as he spoke again.

"Unfortunately, this network that became known as The Wheel developed a dark undercurrent. They took matters into their own hands when they felt their official resources in the military or law enforcement agencies were not doing enough. They began to solve the problems of the members in the network on their own in certain cases. And eventually the issues they dealt with grew to include those not even linked to the government. If a son was being bullied at school the problem was "handled" or if a wife was having financial troubles while their husband was overseas then the funds were "obtained". Now years later The Wheel is suspected in everything from kidnapping to money laundering to homicide."

"The Wheel has become nearly cult–ish. They have their own hierarchy and rules and language. Now many members of The Wheel, the spouse or parents or children of those working in the military and law enforcement, don't even let on to the loved one that they are intertwined with the group. They can be very discreet when they want to be. Early on everything was out in the open but somewhere along the line several individuals seized control and proceeded to twist its mission. Also some of the family members who were the ones in the military or law enforcement became involved. That's when The Wheel became an entirely different thing and began functioning under the radar. The key players are like the hub of a bicycle wheel – all decision making traffic and momentum goes out from this piece. The spokes of the wheel are the second layer of the hierarchy. They are the ones that handle the traffic in and out to the hub – they are the connection between the leaders and general members of the organization. These general members are the rim of the wheel – they are connected to the hub and at the same time they flow naturally into the other families that make up the rim. They are an unbroken circle of support."

"The origins of The Wheel – the very first organizers were several family members of naval personnel and the FBI who knew each other and decided it would be beneficial to share their experiences dealing with the government as loved ones of those in the military and federal law enforcement. Now it has grown to every branch of the military and every federal law enforcement agency and even some local and state emergency response departments. The Wheel is global. Even though it only makes up a fraction of military and law enforcement families their resources and reach is very wide."

Pausing again McGee swallowed down hard. The part that was rapidly approaching in his story was more than difficult to have to talk about especially on this day of all days. But after a beat he had clearly mustered up the resolve to plow forward.

"It became agreed that the only way to dismantle the organization was to identify those in the hub and take them down. One of the main agencies determined to do this was the FBI. Agent Tobias Fornell was assigned to head up the operation and to work at covertly bringing in other agencies that needed to be involved. Within NCIS Fornell drew upon Tony's undercover abilities, unbeknownst to the team Fornell recruited Tony to infiltrate The Wheel. Agent Fornell needed someone that he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt was not already involved with The Wheel. Tony's mission was to identify The Hub by becoming a one of the spokes. The only other person at our headquarters that knew was the Director. He simply gave his approval. The op was in Fornell's hands. The story Tony was supposed to have was that he was a disgruntled federal agent who had seen one too many cases where the families of military members or law enforcement personnel had issues that demanded attention that their employers refused to do anything about. That he had seen one too many son or daughter or husband or wife suffering from not being taken care of as they should have when they requested help that they were told was supposed to be available to them. Tony's attitude was to be played along the line that he had gotten to the point where he believed taking matters into his own hands was what needed to be done. This perspective and Tony's position in federal law enforcement was very desirable to the leaders, The Hub. He had access to information and contacts and could operate under the radar. Over the course of many months he worked his way into The Wheel – after being tested with assignments and secretly trained he was put in place as a spoke inside The Wheel."

"And it worked. Tony was gathering crucial information – the identities of the leaders that made up The Hub and noting the weaknesses and habits that might become the key to making their downfall occur. But – something went wrong. Fornell believes that Tony's cover was blown but he had nothing more than educated guesses on how it happened or who exactly was the one that tipped The Hub off to Tony's true intentions. But The Wheel's leaders were either concerned enough about the intel that Tony had collected or vengeful enough that they acted upon it. And it resulted in …"

The thought went unfinished when a voice came over the plane's communication system letting them know that they were starting their descent and to prepare for landing.

The rest of McGee's briefing, including the lead that was sending them northward, would have to wait until they were on the ground.

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The cool breeze of a New England autumn skimmed over the bare skin of Jack Cutter's face and neck. The chill carried in the air prompted him to tug the zipper of his jacket up higher offering a hint more protection against its bite. Like every other day he had parked his vehicle a few minute walk from his job. He preferred to distance himself from it in the event the vehicle was tracked but where he worked had not yet been discovered. Parking the charcoal colored Jeep Cherokee a couple blocks away instead of right in front of work would potentially give him a time buffer in which to react if someone came looking for him. Additionally, it provided the opportunity for him to check out the vehicle before reaching it to see if anyone was staking it out or possibly if it had been tampered with at all.

Now he was headed down the last half block of brick sidewalk which would lead him to work. It was only a job just like the long string of other low profile average pay positions he had held over the last few years. Occasionally he had missed having a career and not just jobs to get him by until he moved on to the next thing. He did his best at looking at the glass half full though.

He had held some fun jobs, some adventurous jobs, some very low stress jobs, and some rather entertaining jobs. He smiled faintly at recalling the last one. While living in Ann Arbor, Michigan he had worked at The Michigan, a near two thousand seat old restored historic theater that held both live performances and film screenings.

Perhaps it had been an ill advised choice given its link to his prior self but he had not been able to resist as he had wandered the streets of the college town and happened upon it. Somehow he had convinced himself that it benefited him in the event of the need for escape. The place was very large and rather dim in spots providing for cover and plentiful escape routes. He had been Nick Cabot then. Nick had spent endless hours in that old building even long after his shift had ended. After a while he had realized it had not just been the physical escape options which the job had offered that had lured him in. It had been something with much greater depth. Letting himself be drawn into the performances or films had let him escape in other ways. It had been a safe place like it had been from him as a child, blocking out the feelings of loneliness and fears of being easily forgettable. Immersed in the stories of the performances or the films all that melted away and he was included and brought along as part of their journey.

Even beyond that there had been a more immediate need in him. Over the previous months before moving to Ann Arbor he had been finding himself mentally slipping gears. He had found himself quite a few times forgetting if only momentarily that he wasn't really whatever name appeared on his driver's license at that particular moment. He would literally have to clear the confusion away with a shake of the head. Truth be told - these incidents had been terrifying. Was he losing his mind? Had he been pretending so long that it was simply easier to let go of the truth? What would happen if he did not recover from these moments one day and completely split with reality? Would he become his current identity and the other from so long ago would simply cease to exist?

Jack swallowed down hard as the thoughts rolled through his mind. The what ifs had been nagging at him more and more as of late. With each passing day he seemed less and less able to chase them away. Wrestling with it had left him mentally exhausted and longing for some reprieve from it all.

He pushed out a heavy exhale in attempt to release some of the pent up tension currently gripping his chest. It helped but only slightly. Having arrived outside of work, a pub called Traveler's, he had no choice but to plaster on a happy go lucky smile, pull open the door, and head on inside.

This was his life now – no matter who he was or where it took him at least he would never lose that winning smile that had helped him weather many a rough patch.

"Jack!" the warm greeting rang out as he entered. He chuckled to himself. Maybe he should have picked his name as Norm instead of Jack he thought as he stepped further inside and let the door close at his back.

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The sixty miles from Portsmouth to Portland had whizzed by in a blur of swerving, speeding, and silent prayers. The prayer had been pleading requests that they would actually arrive at their destination in one piece. Gibbs had scooped up the keys off the desk at the rental agency before McGee could get to them first in hopes of avoiding the swerving, speeding, and need for silent prayers from ever having to occur in the first place. He had been foiled by the service representative placing paperwork to be signed in his open hand just as he had reached for the keys. The second of delay was all it had taken for the team leader to make off with them and take up residence in the driver's seat.

Somewhere along northbound I-95, perhaps around the York, Maine toll booth when Gibbs barely slowed down to toss a few bills out the window Tim had realized how much the older agent's driving reminded him of his days at MIT. Massachusetts drivers had a special kind of driving style. It made him wonder if the Gibbs' family had once been from Massachusetts and it was somehow an inherited thing that Gibbs was pre-programmed to undertake. But mostly his mind was now rejoicing at the fact that they had finally come to a jolting halt in a parking spot outside their hotel.

"Are you coming McGee?" Ziva David's voice broke into his thoughts.

"Huh? What?" he asked.

"We have arrived at the hotel. You have been sitting there for three minutes now. Will you be joining us inside any time in the near future?" she inquired. Tim shifted his gaze out through the open passenger side window and up at where she stood beside the car. He opened his mouth to answer but Gibbs' voice interrupted his answer from ever materializing.

"He's with me!" the senior agent announced, slamming closed the trunk of the car and coming around to the passenger side of the vehicle. He held out a laptop bag and a backpack to Ziva and continued.

"You and Moore get us checked in and set up. Check in with Abby and Ducky."

"And what will the two of you be doing while we are doing the all this grunt work?" Ziva braved inquiring in reply.

"We're going to see about grabbing a bite. Aren't you starving David?"

"It takes two of you to get food enough for four? This I am not buying if even if I could use counterfeit bills to purchase it."

"Never said it was up for sale," the team lead responded and slipped back behind the wheel of the car.

"Want me to drive Boss?" Tim piped up and offered from the passenger seat. The sheer desperation in his voice drew a questioning glance at him from the team leader.

"I just thought…" the senior field agent began before Gibbs' expression caused him to stop mid sentence. The other man's glance was now a classic glare.

"I – I – ya know just thought maybe you - might be tired is all," Tim offered in an attempt to cover. The team lead didn't buy it but it did manage to release McGee as the focus of his attention.

"Nope. Could drive another sixty!" Gibbs announced closing the driver's side door and turning the key in the ignition.

"Good to know Boss!" Tim responded and gripped his fingertips tightly around the handle on the door. While Gibbs settled back in the driver's seat McGee looked out through the passenger side window at his teammate. Ziva turned on her heel in a mild huff and headed away from the car. She made the entrance to the hotel briskly and disappeared inside.

"Where are we going Boss?" Tim asked as they tore out of the parking lot and out onto the street.

"Like I said to grab a bite."

"Why do I get the feeling you don't mean a bite of the Chinese or Italian variety?"

"More like food for thought."

"Oh wait. I get it – a bite. We're checking out a lead. Grabbing a bite of intel."

"Welcome to the conversation McGee. Not everything in those papers from the alleyway was gibberish."

"Well, actually none of its gibberish. Just encrypted. The Wheel sure does have some outstanding coders in their ranks. Have to admire their s…" Tim stated before letting a glare from the team lead halt the rest of the thought. It was not until he stopped speaking that he realized he had been about to compliment The Wheel. A harsh beat of silence gripped the interior of the car before the younger man spoke up to relieve its torture.

"Abby and I are working on it but, unfortunately, they have shifted their techniques since we last had some code from them. It's like starting from scratch. So what part are we getting started with?"

"We're going to see what we can't get from those itineraries that weren't encrypted. How do you feel about ferries McGee?"

"Like they were right smack at the top of that itinerary list and underlined. We're going to the pier. Casco Bay Ferry Lines here we come!"

"What I tell you McGee? We're going to catch a bite."

"Any chance after the catch of the day we can grab a nice hot bite of pizza? Could really go for pepperoni Boss!" Tim asked. The more senior agent didn't respond immediately but his expression shifted. The seriousness faded away and a smile faintly tugged at his lips.

"How about pepperoni, sausage, and extra cheese? I'm buying!"

"You're buying? Mark this day in the records books."

"Today is no ordinary day," the team lead stated quietly. The words were quiet but they sunk into the younger agent just the same.

Today of all days he had suggested pizza. Tony must still have his brain hijacked. He couldn't recall the last time he had a craving for pizza but right at the moment his stomach was practically begging him for it. His attention was drawn from the thought when he spotted a sign up ahead at the next corner that directed them to turn if they were headed for the ferry lines.

McGee braced his forearm against the armrest on the door as Gibbs steered their sedan into a tight left hand turn. They were in the downtown section of the city – a narrow strip of land set upon on a small peninsula that jutted out into the cold waters of the Casco Bay. The buildings, mostly older and containing businesses, were squeezed in side by side. The streets only had two lanes and could be called narrow at best. They reminded McGee of the older sections of Boston. Cars lined the sides of the streets. Each was parallel parked tightly bumper to bumper with the next which made finding a free space a challenge.

"There's one!" McGee called out in a grateful excitement. If he had to endure several more streets worth of tight turns and swerving in order to find another one he knew queasiness would inevitably arrive.

Gibbs yanked the steering wheel in the direction of the empty space and somehow managed to parallel park the vehicle without ever having to shift into reverse or adjust angles.

The sedan jerked to a halt leaving less than two inches to spare between their vehicle and the next.

They had just narrowly avoided clipping the bumper of the charcoal gray Jeep Cherokee parked in the spot adjacent to their own.

To Be Continued…