Chapter 20: Schrödinger's Cat
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"I think perhaps Gibbs has had too little sleep," Ziva murmured to Tony, "if he believes that that is not McGee."
"It's hard to tell with Gibbs sometimes what he is thinking," Tony replied. "But Abby isn't wrong. Not with something like this. And not something concerning our Probie. She'd say she'd checked the findings four times. In reality, she must have checked them ten times."
"But how can he be McGee, and yet not be McGee?"
"You'll need a philosophy major to answer that one. It took me I-don't-know-how-long to understand the thing about Schrödinger's cat."
"Ah, yes. Quantum indeterminacy. The cat is both dead and alive…" Ziva looked thoughtful, but her attention was then diverted by Gibbs telling people to get into position. Tony jumped out of the NCIS truck and then went to retrieve the "delivery van" from the next block.
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Nels Johansson took his typical breakfast of coffee, toast, and half a grapefruit in his study, as always. He rarely ate with the Nells, finding their excessive girly chatter to grate on his nerves most of the time. It was hard being the only male in the household, but this was how he had planned it, and how things had gone.
After setting the breakfast tray in the hall outside his study for one of the housekeeping Nells to take away, he finished tucking in his shirt, put on a lab coat, and prepared for another work day…this one moving closer than ever to his goal of destruction.
Odd that Marthe hasn't been around…I don't think I've seen her since yesterday afternoon. Lindholm didn't always eat with the Nells, either, he knew. She had too much of a brain to waste it on small talk, like the TV reality shows the others doted on. She never has been like the other Nells…even though she willingly took on the name…
Am I going to have to use one of them to trigger the weapon? Is that even possible? She would know. Where is she?
He stopped the petite Nell who was picking up his tray. "Nell, when you see, uh, the black-haired Nell…the one about 174 cm tall…?"
"Yes, Doctor? I know who you mean. Nell."
"Tell her I'd like to see her."
"Yes, Doctor." She turned efficiently and left.
There was no one in this second-floor hallway now. Johansson strode to one end of it and, pulling out his large key ring, opened a locked door. He gazed, expressionless, at the items before him. Perhaps I can do this even without Marthe's help. Yes, success is within my reach.
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Jenny sighed as her driver fought rush-hour traffic. This was one reason why she liked to get to work early and stay late, most nights. She called Cynthia. "Anything going on that I should know about?"
"Well, Abby's in a tizzy, Director," he secretary said. "She's already been up here twice to see if you've arrived yet."
"What's on her mind?"
"Something about Agent McGee. I can't always follow her when she's so worked up. She kept saying it's not him, it's not him, there's too much blood. I had to call Dr. Mallard to come fetch her. I think he may have given her a sedative or something. She was in such a state, Director! I was really frightened for her."
"How long ago was this?"
"About 15 minutes ago; the last visit, that is."
"Hmm. Well, it's probably too soon to know anything. I'll check with Ducky when I get in. Anything else? Have you heard from Agent Gibbs?"
"No, Director. Has he called you?"
"Not for awhile. He must be starting his op; it's just coming on 8. I'll wait for his call."
She switched off her phone and sighed as yet again another red traffic light stalled them.
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The delivery man in the brown jacket and brown pants stood on the doorstep and rang the door bell. The bell had an old-fashioned, musical sound; a song he couldn't identify. He didn't have long to consider it, though, for the heavy door flew open. With a friendly smile, he gazed down at the short, plump woman who stood there. "Got a delivery for you. Sign?"
He thrust under her nose a clipboard with a mostly-blank sheet of paper on it. The large clip at the top cut off nearly everything useful about his company. "Just sign anywhere. We ran out of the NCR forms; can you believe it? So I'm stuck with using scratch paper today. I hope we soon get those electronic scanners/signers like the big delivery boys use."
The woman shrugged and signed a scrawl, and then held out her hand for the small package.
"Thanks," said Tony, smiling again and squinting at the scrawl. "What's your name?"
"Nell."
Yep, this is the right place, Tony thought, but only said, "Thanks, Nell. You have yourself a fine day." He even winked at her, which made her giggle.
She started to pull the door shut, but he pulled it away from her, and that's when the other agents, flattened against the house outer walls, swarmed in, guns drawn. Even Tim was armed, with Gibbs' back-up sig.
"Freeze! Federal agents!" Tony cried. Nell fell back against the wall in shock; her mouth moving, but unable to utter sound.
The house suddenly came alive with women: women mostly in dresses, but some in pants: women of ages about 18 to 60, tall women, short women, thin women, heavy-set women. Nearly all looked grim, and bore a gun, a large knife, or some other type of weapon.
The spear is a nice touch, Tony thought, his eyes swiveling to take in the scene. So is the crossbow.
"Drop your weapons!" Gibbs ordered, while one of the agents handcuffed the shaking Nell-who-had-opened-the-door. The other women made no move to do so.
"This seems to be a cult," Ziva remarked. "Where is your leader?"
"Are you perhaps looking for me? I'm sorry; I was preoccupied in my lab." The tall blond man in a lab coat ventured part way down the stairs.
Gibbs frowned. "I suspected this. Doctor Ekerot. Stop where you are, and put your hands up. Oh, and tell your…staff, if you have influence over them, to drop their weapons."
"You are intruders in my house without cause," Ekerot sniffed. "Have you a warrant to support this invasion?"
"Yep. Let us handcuff you without an argument, and I'll hold it under your nose so you can read it."
Johansson/Ekerot laughed. "My ladies are well-trained in weaponry. You are far outnumbered, and haven't a chance. I suggest you go now, and don't return."
Tony leaned over to Ziva's ear. "I would have thought that a guy with a beer gut like his wouldn't have a chance with the chicks, but he's got himself a regular harem. I almost feel like saying, Right on, Dude!"
"Tony," Ziva scolded lightly, her attention from the scene momentarily diverted.
In that moment Tim took a step forward. "You're forgetting I know all about your plans, Johansson. I've already told a lot of what I know to NCIS. I'll tell them the rest. You could be seeing the FBI, the CIA, and lots of other folks on your lawn pretty quickly. Give up now."
"You don't know, Agent McGee," Johansson said, shaking his head. "You may know a little. You don't have the, ah, big picture."
"I think I do," Tim said. "You're building a weapon of mass destruction. One based on electrical, rather than chemical components. It's pretty impressive in design. By itself it's inert. But with a human operator—a special human operator—it can be set off. I'm guessing its waves can knock down buildings and also fry people's insides. But like I say, you need a special operator for the trigger."
He took a step forward, ignoring Gibbs' bark of "McGee!" The Nell closest to him knocked his sig out of his hand, to his surprise. The agents exclaimed and would have started forward, but the menacing look of the sea of armed Nells kept them back.
"You need me," Tim continued. "It was always either me or Commander Alvarez, wasn't it? After Lt. Peskarev died, and we two became infected, you saw your golden opportunity. Peskarev didn't work out, but you would make sure that Alvarez and I did." He'd seen the next nearest Nell look away, and in a sudden move, he seized the knife she held. She looked mortified.
"Well, I tell you what, Johansson," Tim said, glancing at his teammates out of the corner of his eye. "Alvarez escaped. So did I, and I came back to stop you."
"You can't stop me," Johansson laughed. "You are my prisoner once again. You don't have any choice, Agent McGee."
"Yes, I do," Tim insisted. "I'm not about to let you wreck havoc if I can prevent it. I may be the only one who can stop you. You need me as an operator? Well, that only works if I'm able to operate the device." He suddenly, with only the tiniest, fleeting look of regret, rammed the knife deep into his chest and fell over with a gasp.
"McGee! Oh God Oh God Oh God," Tony heard himself saying as he leapt to the side of his teammate and friend, while sensibility told him it was too late. He ignored the mayhem around him as enraged agents upped the action and took down most of the Nells and even Ekerot, with not much bloodshed. All he could see were those vacant green eyes and the wide, wide puddle of blood staining the nice Persian rug. There was no pulse, no respiration.
"Oh, Probie…"