AN: If you don't know who the title of 09.03 "The Penelope Papers" refers to, there's a minor spoiler in here, but it's of the "blink and you'll miss it" variety. Also, small spoiler for Inside Man. Also of the "blink and you'll miss it" variety. Also, thanks to Lidil for suggesting Bach's Tocata and Fugue in D Minor as theme music for this story. Enemies: Foreign and Domestic on the NCIS Score album also works for parts of this, as does Vance's Dossier. In case you like a soundtrack to your stories...
Chapter 3
Tony waved at McGee, and kept driving. He glanced in his rearview mirror while he was waiting to pull out of the lot, and saw McGee get out of his car, pack over one shoulder, and head down the street, away from NCIS.
Frowning, he turned onto the road and headed off the Yard. McGee had been quiet ever since they had finished at the Pentagon, and not his "I'm in the McGeeking Zone" quiet he usually ended up in.
But he hadn't said what was bothering him. It couldn't be the case. Gibbs was looking for a reason to keep investigating; if McGee had something, he would have said it. They all would. He didn't have Gibbs' gut, but this case wasn't sitting any better with Tony. All the evidence pointed to suicide, but they didn't have a reason.
Tony navigated the streets of DC back to his apartment, made his way upstairs without paying attention to what he was doing. He put in a call to his favorite Thai place — Ducky gave him slightly less grief about his eating habits when he chose Thai over Chinese — and stowed his gear by the door.
After he changed into jeans and a sweatshirt, Tony hit No. 3 on his speed dial.
"Queen of the Damned, how can I scare you today?"
Tony snorted. "Cute, Abbs. Hey, you talk to McGee this afternoon?" He sank into his favorite chair.
"Not after you guys got back from the Pentagon, why?"
"He didn't leave the Navy Yard." Tony ran a hand through his hair. "He started to, then got out and walked, but not toward NCIS."
"Let me trace his cell." A slurp punctuated her statement.
"Abbs, you still in your lab?"
"Yeah." Abby sighed. "I'm trying some new software I hack- um, got from the FBI today on the head wound of our dead gunny, trying to see if I can narrow down our murder weapon."
"Don't go all Captain Ahab on me," Tony said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Make sure you get home tonight — and drag Gibbs with you."
The husky laugh on the other end of the phone sounded illicit. "Really, Tony. You're telling me to seduce Bossman?"
"Abbs."
"Just pulling your chain. OK, McGee's still on the Yard. Looks like he might be over at the coffee shop."
Tony looked at his watch. "Abby, I left the Yard almost an hour ago. It doesn't take that long to drink coffee."
"Don't worry, Tony. He's probably just going all Gemcity on us. The coffee shop he usually writes at has live music some nights. That's why he writes at home on the weekends. Maybe he got some plot idea today and wanted to get it down before he got home."
Tony sighed. "I don't know, Abbs. He was a little off all afternoon. Ever since we left the cryptography unit."
"Oh!" Abby's voice jerked him into sitting straight up.
"Abbs?"
"The crypto unit. Remember that one case there, back right after Ziva joined the team? The lieutenant who supposedly shot herself, except she really didn't. Her CO was trying to make her take the rap for his treason."
Tony tried to recall details of the case. "You traced the guy's shoeprints in the blowblack from the blast on the rug."
"Yeah, but that's not the important thing. Our guy didn't shoot himself." Abby's voice started going faster, and Tony braced himself. "But McGee and I went out for drinks after that case wrapped and something was bothering him. It wasn't just his cat allergy, either. Gibbs took him to the Pentagon to translate, and when Gibbs and the CO were talking, the CO explained that the crypto unit officers weren't typical Navy. He told Gibbs there was a fine line, and Gibbs finished the sentence for McGee: a fine line between genius and insanity."
Tony dropped his head back on the chair. "And these are the McGeeks of the Navy. Gibbs wanted McGee to go to Pentagon with me to translate, and this guy even graduated from MIT."
He couldn't see Abby, but he was pretty sure she was nodding as she said, "If we made that connection, you know he did. That one case, it really bothered him that the CO figured he could pin it on one of the cryptoanalysts because the guy figured they were so nuts nobody would question a suicide. But he also admitted he was glad she hadn't killed herself."
"And right now, as far as we know, this guy did. The MIT graduate." Tony cursed. "So instead of going out drinking like the rest of us do, he's caffeinating?"
"Timmy's probably writing, getting it down on paper." Abby hesitated. "Look, I'm going to be here for a while running this analysis. If he's still there in a half-hour, I'll go get a Caf-Pow and check on him. Besides, if Bossman's still here, he'll need a refill by then. McGee can't argue with that."
Tony wanted to say more, but his doorbell rang. "Abbs, that's my dinner. Anything changes, you call me. And head-smack McWorry for me." He hung up and answered the door.
Once he was settled on the couch, dinner in hand, he thought back over the day, over the case. Much as he hated to admit it, Abby would have more luck with either Gibbs or McGee than he would. But just in case, he was sticking to Coke tonight.
~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~
McGee shifted in the easy chair in the corner of the coffee shop. Usually he picked a chair with a table, but they were all by the windows and he still had the feeling somebody was watching him. This was a better location, his back to the wall. The brown fake-leather chair had wide arms, so he could balance a notebook on the left one and anchor it with his arm as he wrote. He'd have to scrub off the ink that smeared on the side of his hand, but that wasn't exactly unusual.
Today's case bothered him, and he hadn't been able to put his finger on why. Taking a deep breath, he tried to relax shoulders that had been hunched over the computer all day. Penny kept threatening to pull his shoulders back when he'd go over there to play with Jethro. His grandmother was one of the least scary people in the world, but he knew she'd do it. Once she got an idea in her head, she followed through.
McGee forced himself to put aside the day's case. He needed a different puzzle. Before he could decide, the shout from the counter caught his attention.
"Agent McGee, your decaf latte's ready." The barista slipped the sleeve on the drink and slid it across the counter as McGee headed up to get it.
"Thanks." McGee sipped, enjoying the warm foam at the top.
"Sorry it took so long, McGee. Didn't meant to keep you waiting." The barista wiped down the nozzle of the machine. "I forgot you wanted decaf this time."
McGee smiled. "Not on duty tonight, Aaron. Just didn't feel like dealing with traffic after today."
The barista rinsed out the rag. "I think Agent Gibbs was in here at least six times, and that's just after my shift started at noon."
"Yeah." McGee nodded. "Some days, you know?"
"Oh, I know. Once you guys hit your fourth trip of the day, we start slipping an extra shot into Gibbs' coffee." The barista smiled.
McGee headed back to his seat, still conscious of eyes watching. He sat down. Instead of writing something for his next book, he started making notes about the people in the coffee shop. An admiral at the counter by the door, his cover crisp and tidy on the counter as he sat ramrod straight in his chair. The tables near the trash can had a few of the intel analysts for the agency, though none he had worked with. McGee smirked at the idea of Nikki Jardine in a public coffee shop. It's a good thing she wasn't a field agent, as paranoid about germs as she was. He couldn't picture her at a crime scene.
He made a few notes and decided to look up the analysts tomorrow. At least Agent Grady wasn't sitting with them. Of course, then he'd know who was watching him.
He saw two men at the table across from him, federal badges around their necks. Those must be DOT employees — Navy and NCIS didn't wear those around the Yard. They seemed intent on their conversation, and he discounted them, though he made more notes so he could run a search the next day.
"Just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean they're not out to get you." The phrase from one of his college psychology professors ran through his head and McGee forced himself to focus on the adventures of Agent McGregor and LJ Tibbs. He'd head home in a little while.
~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~
Vance sat at his desk, the small circle of light from the desk lamp shining on the file he'd taken from Gibbs' desk the day before. He didn't like moving a case to the backburner, and he was fortunate. Since he'd taken over the director's chair, that had happened very few times, and almost none with the MCRT. Less than a dozen all told. As much as Gibbs infuriated him even on a good day, the man had skills. Spots on his team were coveted, and everybody on the Yard knew that Gibbs didn't take less than the best. They also knew if DiNozzo or McGee ever wanted their own team, they had among the best records in the entire agency. It made for healthy competition, the kind Vance encouraged.
With a close rate that gave SecNav something to brag about on the Hill, Vance had more leeway when it came to budgets and new programs. He'd almost restored the credibility Jenny Shepard had lost with her misguided Frog fiasco. And NCIS was respected within the Navy and the Corps, if not always liked. Some of the Agents Afloat still ran into issues with captains who saw them as Internal Affairs, but that number was steadily decreasing as Vance was better able to match agents to ships and commanders. His number of late nights at the office had decreased in the past year as the agency spun along in good working order. And yet, he was still here at 2100.
This case, it bothered him almost as it bothered Gibbs. No clues, no motive, no solution. And a gunnery sergeant dead, with no resolution for her family. A good one too, one of the best in the Corps from what the team had uncovered. That wasn't acceptable. But he couldn't afford to keep his best team on it either, not with so many other cases demanding attention.
Still, he wanted answers.
~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~
The great Leroy Jethro Gibbs doesn't realize. He has been right there for Number 8 and Number 9 and still he doesn't know I exist. He will. I have made sure of it. The cocksure Leroy Jethro Gibbs is beginning to think something isn't right. But he has no idea just how wrong he has allowed this to go. I chose my moments carefully. Leroy Jethro Gibbs could not get on the trail too soon, or my masterwork would not have the effect I intend. He is arrogant, certain that he can do anything. For him to discover that he and his team are so far behind me, that will be my first blow to his ego and his reputation. Number 10, this one is among the most challenging of all my planned kills. I had to lay the groundwork for this one as soon as I realized the need for this target. The method took a little longer — but it is less dangerous to me than my original plan, and even more effective. It may unsettle them. It should make at least one person pause and think. And then I will hit them with my next two kills. The first, Number 11, will reveal the extent of my reach. And the second, that will show them none of them are safe. Not even Leroy Jethro Gibbs.