Chapter 18 – Escape from the Nell House
Klara was given a little room on the attic level—the curse of being the new girl, she assumed. She hadn't even been given time to say she hadn't brought a change of clothes with her, but a poke in the closet revealed pants, shirts and skirts that fit her. The colors were moderate to drab; not particularly to her taste. Then she looked down at what she was wearing: a plain olive green dress. Community apparel, it must be. And they think they've pegged me.
She pushed aside the little seed of fear that clung to the side of her throat. This is only temporary. Within 24 hours, I'm grabbing McGee and we're getting out of here. Somehow.
The room had a single bed, overhead lamp, dresser, mirror, alarm clock, chair and nightstand. If I could get McGee up here, I could hide him in the closet. It wouldn't be comfortable for him, but he could live with it. She remembered he'd broken a few ribs just four days ago, and shuddered. Well, he wasn't the first agent caught in a tough spot while injured. He's got a strong mind. He'll be fine. She dismissed any further thoughts of this before they could turn to doubts. A peek out the window showed no easy access to the roof, and a long drop to the ground.
Setting her watch alarm—for the room's alarm clock seemed to be permanently wired for 6:30 a.m.—she snuggled down for three hours of sleep. That would take her past midnight, and all the good ladies of this establishment would probably be fast asleep. Surely no one would be suspecting her of anything yet.
The house did indeed seem quiet when she woke. Carrying her shoes under one arm, she tiptoed out into the dark hallways, guided by her pen light. Down the stairs…third floor landing, second floor landing, first…aha! Next stop, basement!
"Looking for something, Nell?"
Klara started at the voice. It belonged to a smiling young blonde in a nightgown and robe, who carried a larger flashlight.
"My name's Klara. I was just looking for, uh—"
Again that polished smile. "We're all Nell here. The Doctor prefers that, Nell. Were you hungry? I can get you a snack."
"No thanks; I can get it myself. I don't want to keep you up."
"All right, then. Sleep well, Nell."
"You too, Nell."
To Klara's surprise, Nell wandered upstairs without even a backwards glance. She hadn't even remarked on Klara not wearing shoes or slippers. Klara listened for a count of 90 but could hear nothing other than the house's occasional creaks. A cautious smile lit her face.
Down the stairs Klara went, ever, ever so quietly. There should be guards on the door of wherever Tim was being kept. If I had someone captive, that's what I'd do, anyway. There were few unbreakable cells in the world, and practiced criminals could be very inventive about escaping. The hallway was dimly lit and she walked down it. Not a guard in sight anywhere. She found the furnace room and a couple storage rooms; no locks on the doors. There was one door at the end of the hallway left…
…and it was locked. She quickly picked the lock and went into the lightless room. "McGee?" she called softly, a split second before she was tackled and forced to the floor.
Fighting her attacker, she thrust her penlight fully in his face. "Geddoff me, McGee. It's Schultz," she hissed.
His eyes went wide, and he put a finger to his lips, making sure she saw that, and then ran on bare feet to the door, which he closed soundlessly (but not before jamming it with something so it didn't lock). Then to her surprise, he turned on a large fan on a stand.
She understood immediately. "Congratulations," she said under the fan. "This is your day to be rescued, Agent McGee."
"There's not much point in that," he said with a sad smile. "I'm a dead man. Johansson says I'll be in full-blown psychosis mode within 24 hours."
"And you believe that nutcase? Tim, use your brain. Doesn't that sound like something he wants you to think??"
"Uh…"
"We'll get you out, get you to a real doctor, and you'll be back to being harassed by Tony before you know it! Come on."
He hesitated. "You said 'we'. Who else is with you?"
"Well…"
"You came to get me, you found me all by yourself?" He actually laughed, sounding pleased. "So Enrique got through to NCIS! I knew he would! And that Nell who got him out—Marthe Lindholm is her real name—she's a great gal. I'll bet she would have come back for me if she could have."
That thought made Klara shake. "Tim, nothing is as it seems in this nuthouse. Enrique is in the hospital. I don't know his condition; he was in surgery when I left. Marthe Lindholm shot him."
"What??"
"I don't know why. Tony and I were looking for you. We saw it happen, not far from here. Oh, and I don't work for NCIS anymore. I had a little disagreement with Jenny, um, and I quit. But I wasn't about to give up looking for you and Alvarez just because I no longer had a job."
Tim felt dizzy. "So where's Tony, then?"
"Back at work, I guess. He'd faked sickness to take a day off to look for you. We met up by chance. Buddy, I know what you're thinking, and unfortunately, it's not going to happen. Jenny's on a rampage, and foolishly her mind is all on Alvarez, and not on her missing agent. So it's just you and me. But we're getting out of it."
"How?" Tim asked bitterly. "I don't even know where we are!"
"But I do, hun. I'm familiar with this area. You are, too, even more than me."
"What do you mean?"
"Your Doctor Johansson chose a nice, unincorporated area in which to site his lab. Welcome to Silver Spring."
- - - - -
The agents on surveillance slept in shifts. They had their warrant, but were loathe to use it just yet for fear of harm coming to Tim and Klara. "They must get deliveries," said Gibbs. "In the morning we'll call as delivery personnel."
Tony nodded, but still felt uncomfortable. "That doesn't guarantee their safety, boss," he pointed out.
"I know it…but I can't see the situation getting any better in the near future, do you? It's a chance we'll have to take."
- - - - -
Tim swallowed, then laughed a little. "Silver Spring! I'm close to home?!"
"About half a mile from your apartment, I think. Do you know Greco Lane?"
"Yeah! Is that where we are? I've been down it hundreds of times. It's the shortest route to that great pizza place—"
" 'Uncle Tong's House of Pizza'. Yes, I remember it. I used to live in Silver Spring. Well? Are you ready to go? Want to kiss old Johansson-of-a-gun goodbye?"
"I'll pass on that. But I can't go, Klara. I have to stay here and shut this op down."
She gave him a look, folding her hands. "Tim. Someday, you will be a team leader. A very fine, compassionate one. But that's only if you live long enough! Now, pretend I just gave you a Gibbs slap. We're getting out of here, and NCIS will come back with reinforcements who can shut this hell hole, or Nell hole, down!"
He twisted his lips. "You're not my boss, Klara. And you don't even work for NCIS anymore."
"No, but I am old enough to be your mother." She kissed the top of his head. "I had a son, Tim. I don't talk about him much. Gibbs and Jenny know about him, but he—his death predates your teammates. His name was Tad, for Thaddeus. He died on a Navy mission in the Gulf. If he had lived, he'd be your age now."
"I—I'm sorry."
"It's okay. He's been gone seven years now. Broke our hearts, Hans and I. Tad was our only child. Hans died six months later." They were both silent for a moment, and then she rubbed her hands briskly. "You have no guards on your door, did you know that?"
"No. That must be a nighttime thing. There are always guards when I'm let out."
"They must think that nothing happens at night. They haven't wondered about Alvarez? You said Lindholm helped him escape?"
Tim told her of the grocery shopping ruse. Klara frowned. "I assume NCIS has interviewed her—Tony and I captured her after the shooting—though I have no idea of the results of that. No one asked you about Alvarez since then?"
"Johansson did. I told him Enrique was in the can with a case of, well, whatever."
"Good thinking. So they may be wondering about him after awhile—unless Johansson knows that Lindholm was preparing to execute him. Did you get the feeling that Lindholm and Johansson were working together?"
"No; I just thought she was one of the regular Nells. I'd started thinking of her as 'Baking Nell'. She was always bringing me brownies and other treats."
Klara studied him. "Hmm," she only said. "Well, get your shoes, and let's go."
"You're not leaving us, dear?" "At this time of night?" "Do you have a warm jacket, dear? You'll catch your death!"
"I'll be fine," he said to the Marthes clustered around him. "But I must go. You take care of yourselves."
"Who are you talking to?" said Klara, with a trace of worry.
"I'll tell you later." Carrying his shoes, he led her out the door and up the stairs. The house was still quiet and dark. This was too easy, but Fate sometimes presented opportunities like this.
Tim opened the front door, and before it was inches open, an alarm went off. "Run for it!!" Klara hissed. They did, without stopping to put shoes on.
"To the back of the house!" Tim hissed in return. "They won't think to look for us there, and I remember all these houses have hedges in the back. We can hide in the shadows before continuing on!"
Their feet made almost no sound on the grass. Straight back, in the dim light of night, into the great shadows cast by trees and bushes, until they crashed into something that yielded with a "umpf!"
"Glad to see you, too, Klara," wheezed Mickey. "Now will you please get off me so I can call in the troops?"
"You're all here? You're all here?"
"Yep, but let's not stay here. They could still spot us." Mickey led them through the hole in the hedge that he'd found.
"Safe," Tim grinned hugely. Then they all jumped as rifle shots cracked the air. Klara fell down, and didn't get up.