Chapter 5 – Families and Budgets

Sunday, February 21

There were times when being The Big Guy really did not pay off. Like today. Leon Vance had had to pass up taking the kids to the ice skating rink (as he had said he would do, last week) because of tensions in the Middle East requiring his presence in MTAC. Jared and Lily were upset. Jackie could take them, but it would not be fun for her: she couldn't skate to save her life. Thank heavens neighbors were happy to take Leon's kids with their own. Jackie would bake these good people another of her renowned pies.

But the kids wanted to be with Daddy today. Daddy, who worked long hours as it was. Jared had come up with a convincing shtick about "Who's that man in the living room, Mom?" The boy had a future as a comedian.

"Still trying to get a connection with Kabul, sir," said Cathy Kelso, MTAC technician.

Vance stared at the large plasma screen and sighed. It showed a map of Marine positions, mostly in Afghanistan and Pakistan. Organizing military tactics, fortunately, was not part of his job. He knew his mind didn't go to war room positioning, and was happy he had never had to even consider it. There were others who were much more adept at the global chess-like game. Moving agents around on assignment, yes. That he could do. Throwing in battleships and aircraft carriers and landing parties was something entirely different.

This was a waiting game, relying on both satellite signals and availability of personnel in the desired location. Having been standing in position for half an hour now, Vance took a seat in the raked row of chairs. There he sat, chin in his hand, and waited…waited…waited. It would not be in good form for him to go back to his office to get the book he was reading. That would look bad in front of his staff. It would particularly not be in good form for him not to be present in MTAC when the connection came through. He had to appear to be focused on this issue; nothing else in his job should matter at the moment.

All he could do was let his mind wander.

The kids…always high in a parent's mind. Jared was doing wonderfully in school. A straight-A student. He was having a little trouble with minor bullying, though, according to his teacher. Schools could pass all the regulations they wanted to against bullying, but it would always seep back in. It seemed to be part of human nature: a lack of recognition of the other guy having rights which should be respected. Most people grew out of this. Others didn't, and became social leeches or felons.

Lily had a different problem. She was on course to be a social butterfly; loving everyone and not focusing as much as she should on her schoolwork, which was nowhere near as interesting to her as her legion of friends. There were some good points to this, though. She was a champion of the downtrodden and was prepared to fight any bullies or teasers of other children. She was highly admired…

…and yet…

…Vance remembered a girl from his high school who was a lot like Lily's social defender personality. Louise was her name. Always sunny, always positive, a good student, a help to teachers, a shoulder for anyone to cry on…You'd think she'd have been the hit of the school. But she wasn't. When in her junior year she became a nominee for Homecoming Queen, it became a big joke at the school. No one would say who started the negative campaign, but Louise somehow became a symbol of mockery. It was true, she wasn't the prettiest girl in school, but she had a decent enough face. But her competition was three beauties. Louise didn't have a chance. But she held her head high and stayed in the race. When she came in dead last in the voting, she never said a word about it. Her date for the dance was a geeky physics student, and she took care to make him look like he was the light of her life that night. And maybe he was.

Jared and Lily's school was an exclusive private school in Washington; one that often had children of presidents and ambassadors in attendance. One of Vance's troupe of bodyguards would drive them to school in the morning and pick them up in the afternoon. It might be security overkill, but it kept Jackie from worrying, and the SECNAV approved of it.

If Lily could become as good a person as Louise had (and last Vance knew, Louise was working as a medical missionary in Africa), Vance wouldn't care if she didn't match her brother's straight A's. Provided she did graduate from high school and college, of course.

Last year and the year before, Jared had had a fascination with his father's boxing career. Vance had happily bought junior-sixed boxing gloves for his son and taught him the basics, but then Jackie had put her foot down. Boxing was a violent, dangerous sport, she pointed out. Jared did not need it, as his father had, as a way to get off the streets. Maybe it would give him the self-confidence he needed to stand up to the bullying. His parents would not let him go without his glasses (an apparent magnet for teasing) and he was too young to be responsible for using contact lenses.

Ah, youth. Only time cured it. And then, once grown, one had other troubles. Or responsibilities. Such as being called into work on a Sunday.

"Director?"

"Hmm? Yes, Greene?"

"We are connecting to Kabul now. Stand by for General Ivers…"

Vance got to his feet after a quick glance at his watch. Over 2 ½ hours of waiting for a conversation that, while important, would probably take fewer than 15 minutes. And punch a hole in the middle of his day. Nonetheless, he straightened his tie and prepared to be the face of NCIS; the daddy of a federal agency.

Friday, February 26

Vance was just enjoying the coffee he'd obtained on his morning break when Leslie Baker buzzed him on the intercom. "Director, the delivery service is at the loading dock. It's the SIG Sauers."

"Thank you, Leslie. I'll go right down. Call Agents Gibbs and, um…Schultz, if she's in, and have them meet me there." Vance didn't allow his hands to shake until he hung up the phone. The guns are here! It should have been a euphoric feeling—Christmas in February. In good times, it would have been. But now…now he still didn't have the money to pay for them.

Gibbs and his associate, Supervisory Special Agent Klara Schultz, who lead the off-hours MCRT, beat Vance to the loading dock. It wasn't a rush, anyway; the truck had been thoroughly examined at the Navy Yard O Street gate by the Marines on duty, and then at the loading dock approach by NCIS security. These checks took time. But still: with a manifest like this truck's, one had to be cautious.

Three people working Receiving stood back, a little cowed by the ranks of Vance and the two SSAs. This was a job that Vance wouldn't drop on the shoulder of some poor clerk, though. He wanted higher-ups whom he knew were trustworthy, too much so to be bought, to help him perform an inventory on the guns.

In deference to the winter cold, Vance had all the crates of guns delivered inside. Once the shipping doors were closed, it wouldn't be too cold…he hoped. They all had on coats and gloves. They could handle it, even if they didn't like it.

The P229 R DAK SIGs were 2,250 in number in this order. This was more than the number of special agents that NCIS had, many more. But you didn't order down to the exact number of agents. You allowed for guns to be lost, stolen, or damaged in the line of duty. A few might prove to be defective right off the bat and have to be returned to the manufacturer. And there were ones needed exclusively for training down at FLETC, for lab tests, and for spares…every field office would have a couple of spares, kept under lock and key, of course. Vance, Gibbs, and Schultz would have to count each and every gun, plus the accompanying ammunition. Having any guns vanish between the shipper and NCIS would be an accounting nightmare.

It took close to two hours to count and double count the SIGs (and the smaller order of rifles)…the time increased by having to pry open crates and repack them, and occasional stops to warm their hands. Vance made sure that the group was kept supplied with hot coffee. At the end, satisfied that everything was there, Vance signed the delivery order and turned it all to his Munitions department. Before any of the new guns were handed out, they would all be tested by Munitions to make sure they were in proper working order. The Munitions department head's eyes shown with the delight of the new "toys." Vance had no doubt, though, that by the 100th or so gun tested, it would no longer seem like so much fun.

Back in his office, Vance pulled out the shipping order from his coat pocket. He then called up his email, for there should be a duplicate copy there. His eyes went right to the bottom line. Net 30 days… Even though the down payment on the order last year had been 30%, the 70% balance due was sizeable. Well over a million dollars.

He searched the web for news, desperate for any signs that the continuing resolution that held the agency budget hostage had been broken…but there was nothing. He knew that the SECNAV would have called or emailed him if there was news, but just in case there was something last-minute, anything to give a little hope…

It was one of the most painful decisions he'd had to make in his career. Tonight, roughly 250 people and their families would curse his name. Some would probably leave the agency and not come back.

He pulled up in his computer file the draft letter he'd written about ten weeks ago (and which he'd hoped he'd never have to use). There had been no new hires in that time, so the "to" list on the email didn't have to be changed.

Is there no other way? There has to be another way! There always is!

Magical thinking. No, there was no way out of this, nothing short of threatening mayhem.

Vance loaded the document into an email, attached the recipients list, and hit send.

If he was a braver man, he would have gone among his employees and explained. But he wasn't that brave. And it made some sense to let them rant a bit to their coworkers before he showed his face. Then he would let them get in their best shots, for a good manager had to take the blows, even when things were out of his hands.

He turned on the cam to show the squad room, and for one of the few times in his career (for he detested eavesdropping ), he also turned on the sound.

Agent Ziva David sat at her desk, staring at her monitor, and looking stricken. Agents McGee, DiNozzo and Burley flanked her, all looking grim. "I cannot believe it," said David. "Along with the other newest 10% of the workforce, I am being furloughed…effective in two weeks. I have lost my job."