After a trip to the grocery store for several bags of coffee beans Friday morning, Klara Schultz leafed through all the printouts Gibbs had brought her late, late the previous night. She was grateful that he had done all that work: an emailed file could be too easily traced, she knew, particularly to her; recently resigned.
As a test, she tried to log onto NCIS from home. Invalid address, her computer showed. Access denied. Jen clearly had wasted no time. On the other hand, a team leader—Gibbs—printing out a file would not be noticed at all.
This was not the time to be glib, or sarcastic, or ironic, or foolishly humorous. Lives were at stake here. She didn't know Alvarez well, but she'd jump in to rescue a member or the Navy or the Marines any day, being an old Navy hand herself.
And she'd certainly been a feisty lieutenant; feisty at any rank since her days at OCS. For five years she'd been one of a handful of women who'd lead the charge to open the SEALS program to women, without success. And more than 20 years later, it was still closed to women, irrationally, by a 1994 act of Congress prohibiting women from serving in direct combat roles.
She'd miss seeing the destroyer ship Barry outside the NCIS windows. She'd miss that secret little thrill she got every work day when she arrived at the Navy Yard. But now, it was time to stop reminiscing and go fight again.
Alvarez needed rescuing. So did Tim McGee.
Admittedly, she had a soft spot for the kind-hearted geek. But more than that, she mourned the special agents who'd lost their lives in the line of duty. Too many just out of Washington in the last few years. Paula Cassidy. Jim Nelson. Rick Hall. Kate Todd. Others, too. No more, please, God. An idiotic wish; of course; special agents would continue to die. But maybe this one death was within her power to prevent.
Maryland. That must be the key to everything. That scientist Ekerot's fake address was there. She suspected he was involved in this somehow, electronics being his field and the fact that he had a high number of visits to the Anacostia base. We know the Navy staff car was abandoned in Jesup Blair Park, in Silver Spring. And I used to live not 1/4 mile from there… She got into her car and started driving north.
- - - - -
Tony sat at his desk, feeling unsettled. The case was progressing far too slowly. If I were making the decisions, I'd…
I'd…
I'd be doing something other than riding the desk merry-go-round, that's for sure…
An idea took root, as he glanced around the squad room. They had Ziva, Gibbs, Joe, Balere and Mickey working. Five people. They could probably get along without him…Hmmm…
Reaching into a drawer, he took out a form SF-71, Request for Leave, and with a pen wrote in his request for sick leave for the remainder of the day. The pain showed on his face as he crossed over to Gibbs' desk. "Sorry, boss. That breakfast burrito I had did a number on me."
Gibbs only gave him a glance as he took the slip from him. "Feel better," he said, and went back to work.
- - - - -
Tony only felt a twinge of guilt for the lie as he retrieved his car from the parking garage. I am still working. Just not under Gibbs' direction…
Following a hunch, he headed for Highway 29 and Silver Spring.
- - - - -
Klara parked in Jesup Blair Park and scoured the small parking lot. Was anything dropped, any signs of blood, of a struggle? Any time marks, disturbances on the grass, broken tree branches?"
"Have you photographed the scene yet?"
She jumped at the sound of the voice. "Tony! Good Lord, you startled me. What are you doing here?"
"Same thing as you, I hope. Looking for McGee and Alvarez."
"Don't tell me you resigned, too!"
He shook his head. "Nah, I told Gibbs I had indigestion and went home 'sick'. I couldn't stand the slow pace of the case. So, did you really quit? Gibbs said you'd resigned, but he wouldn't say why."
"I might as well tell you. I punched out the Director when she said all but said McGee was expendable. In my book, none of our agents are expendable. Ever. Full stop. End of story."
Tony gaped at her, then grinned hugely, and shook her hand with vigor. "Thank you, Klara, on so many fronts. Not the least of which is…wow. Punching out Jenny. Wow. That took guts. Did anyone get pictures of that? Wow."
"Why, yes. They're going to be on page 3 of the New York Times tomorrow. Get real, Tony. That impulsive action cost me my job."
"I'm sorry. But, good grief; I'm sure you wouldn't have done it if not really provoked. I hope Jenny will realize the error of her ways and give you your job back…You will take it back, if offered, won't you?"
"Maybe. I don't know. Who's leading my team?"
"Gibbs, for now. He's getting that frazzled high school principal look."
Klara snickered while Tony grinned. "A little stress will be good for him."
He turned serious. "We didn't really go over this area thoroughly on Tuesday; we were more concerned with the abandoned staff car itself. Our mistake. Have you found anything useful?"
"Well, fortunately it hasn't rained since Tuesday, so the ground and the parking lot are pretty much undisturbed. Is this the spot where the car was found?"
"No, over here, on this side of the lot." He thought, visualizing the scene again. "I'm pretty sure it was in this space…no, this one. Lined up with this tree with the heart carved on it."
"Oh, good. So much the better. I looked at this space earlier, but wasn't sure…"
"What did you find?"
"Well, think about it. The car with McGee and Alvarez is driven up. They may be blindfolded; they're certainly handcuffed or restrained in some way. That means you'd want the transfer vehicle in the spot right next to it, or just one spot away. You'd want to make the transfer and get out before anyone sees you."
"Makes sense. So can we tell anything about the transfer vehicle?"
She slowly circled the vacant parking space."It's dark red."
"Now how do you know that?!"
"Someone's left us a clue. I'll bet McGee." She stooped and scooped up a small amount of paint shavings that had been ground into the dirt at the head of the parking space."
"Hmmm. I'm not sure I buy that. Sounds like a long shot. Got anything else?"
"Just my suspicions. Why change cars here? Not this park, so much, but why Silver Spring?"
"You're guessing he's close by. That maybe Silver Spring is his base."
"You know what I'd like to know…"
"Who's leased or bought property here that might be used as a lab," they said together.
"I used to live in Silver Spring. I know where City Hall is." She smiled.
"Let's go!"
- - - - -
"You can help us escape? How?" Alvarez asked the woman they referred to as Baking Nell (although she claimed now that her name was Marta).
"I can open this door, then the front door, and out you go," she said, simply.
"Why would you want to do that, though?"
She looked puzzled. "Because you're being held against your will?"
"But what's in it for you?" asked Alvarez.
She didn't answer for a moment. "Maybe not everyone believes in what Nels is doing."
Tim had been listening closely to her, over the fan's roar. "Your accent doesn't sound quite American. Are you…" he thought, then guessed, "Swedish, like Nels?"
"Yes. I am Swedish state agent Marthe Lindholm. I was sent here to find out what Nels—that isn't his real name, incidentally—is doing. He left his work at the Esrange Space Center, ah, 'under a cloud of suspicion'. He gained his position there under false pretenses."
"What do you think he's doing?"
Her face clouded over. "That's a problem. I don't have the knowledge of electronics, so what I've been learning has gone slowly. I only think it's something shocking, something very dangerous."
"Aren't you jeopardizing your position here by rescuing us?" asked Alvarez.
"Perhaps. But I have notified my parent agency to contact your FBI and close down this operation in a week if they haven't heard from me otherwise. I think Nels certainly must be stopped by then."
"You know that Enrique and I are infected?" Tim said solemnly, studying her face.
"Infected? With what? "
"You really don't know?"
"No."
"You don't know why everyone here is called Nell?"
"No, I admit that is beyond me."
Tim sighed. "Suffice it to say, his experiments, while largely electrical, involve something similar to nanotechnology: electronic circuitry introduced to a human body. That's all I know so far, other than the human host develops psychosis—Enrique and I are in the early stages of that; hallucinating and, in my case, also developing paranoia. And, judging by the first person infected—it results in a gruesome death."
Baking Nell's/Marthe's eyes widened. "You should get medical treatment."
"Help us escape," said Alvarez.
"There is a problem," she said. "I can only get one of you out."