Chapter 11 – Problem Solving

NCIS was stuffy. The temperature outside had soared to 90 degrees by 11:30 a.m., and was still rising. Not typical for May, but not unprecedented, by a long shot. "Leslie!" Vance bellowed, since the door to his outer office was open (to permit as much airflow as possible). "Where is the air-conditioning?"

Leslie, his necktie loosened, appeared at the door in a slightly bedraggled state. "I've called the plant three times, sir. They've said it's coming on; it will just take awhile to be felt. Plus everyone has their windows open, and that's not helping." His eyes did not meet Vance's nor go to Vance's slightly opened windows.

"People do what they have to to stay alive," Vance growled.

"Yes, sir. Anyway, the plant says that it should feel cool in here by late afternoon."

The plant. Vance felt like a fern was controlling the temperature. "I suppose there's nothing else we can do. Keep on them, Leslie."

He took a few minutes to look out over the squad room from the balcony. Nowhere else in the building could he see so many people at work at once. There were Intel analysts and foreign desk clerks and non-field agents and, of course the agents who did go out in the field. Gibbs had had the unenviable luck of getting the area closest to the staircase, way back when, back when Vance was still working his way up in the ranks on the West coast. This area would always get the current Director's closest scrutiny because it was so close by.

Did Gibbs mind it? He had enough seniority that he could have made a case for relocating to the far side of the room, if he had wanted to. But he'd never said anything about it to Vance, nor (as far as Vance knew), to Shepard. Did Gibbs not care? Or did he feel that it was better to be out in the open, to show that he wasn't afraid to have his boss see what his team did? If I were DiNozzo's supervisor, would I want his juvenile behavior to be so obvious?

On reflection, Vance thought that DiNozzo's frat boy antics, while eye- and ear-catching, really didn't take up the bulk of the day, and other than that, DiNozzo was an outstanding agent. Gibbs knew that. Maybe that was the message he was sending. I stand by my team.

That wasn't a bad thing. Not at all.

Just before five o'clock, Vance felt cool air on his neck, and he sighed with relief. He swiveled in his chair and closed the window behind him. Ah, summer. And blessed be air-conditioning.

He called Leslie. Now was the time to get an HVAC contractor working on getting a new heating system in place. They had the money now, and being ready to simply flick the heat on come October or November would be nice.

The SECNAV dropped by. Kel Paulsen was courteous enough not to drop in unannounced; that was not his style. Still, Vance always found himself a little nervous every time his boss came to visit. He hoped it didn't show.

"Nice and cool in here," Kel remarked. "And with an old building, you have the luxury of being able to open windows if you need to…why are you laughing?"

"Never mind. What's new, Kel?"

"Well, I do have a reason for dropping by, but I just remembered something else. Leon, that space in Quantico won't stay open for long. Have you given any more thought to moving NCIS?"

No. I haven't. Vance had a moment of panic, but was experienced enough to keep his expression bland. "When do you need an answer?" he said, obliquely.

"Not immediately, but let's say by the end of the year. I know this building is cozy and the location here in DC is good, but consider all the advantages of a shiny new building, Leon, built to your specifications, and with a lot more room."

"There is that," Vance admitted.

"If you don't snap it up, the Navy will build something else there. I want NCIS to have first choice in it. You've earned it. So…do think about it."

"I will," Vance said sincerely, while his mind rushed to show him the possibilities. Real, dependable climate control, right from the start! Much more room for the squad room…maybe give each team, each component their own office. Expand Autopsy and the lab, and MTAC—with more room, they could fit in more state-of-the-art equipment. Have the firing range onsite, instead of having the agents have to go across the Yard as they did now. Expand the gym. More parking area.

"My main reason for coming here," said the SECNAV, bursting Vance's thought bubble, "is to talk about your class at FLETC. Director Tanko called me to say that twelve of your nineteen students are likely to fail the course, which wraps up in another week or so. What's going on, Leon?"

Vance frowned. Usually Kel didn't take an interest in something as far down the chain as training of the new hires. How annoying of Tanko to call Kel instead of me! "The two weeks of furloughs. The class has had trouble catching up for the missed time. I talked to their instructors, but some didn't want to help them out."

"That's not what Gerry Tanko said. He told me that all of the instructors were willing to work with the students on it, but it didn't go far enough."

"Look, Kel; my people were recently hired and had just started drawing paychecks this year. Most made commitments to family when they shipped off to Georgia. Then, we had to draw the financial rug out from under them. How are they supposed to feel?"

"I could guess that, Leon."

"It seems to me that FLETC is training people that there is only one approach to things, and exceptions are never made."

"Well, that was sort of my impression, too, and I don't approve of it any more than you do. But there are a couple of things, Leon. The first is that seven of your new hires are passing. That's really good, considering that a month ago, you were told that only three of your people were likely to pass."

"But—"

"The second thing is that you didn't give your people enough credit for trying to bring their scores up themselves. Tanko says they borrowed notes from classmates, trained on their own, and did everything they could. A couple of them even brought around stubborn teachers, although that appears to have been too late to make a difference.

"And the third thing is…I'm not without some influence. I requested and got copies of all of their test scores. Leon, their PEB scores were excellent! Your people didn't just sit around during their furlough. They worked and worked on their physical skills and came out at the top of their class. Keep in mind that FLETC itself does not fail students on any of the subjects; all pass-fail systems and grades within are set by the agencies."

"That's true. But should NCIS bend the rules for the twelve? Wouldn't it be better to have them retake the FLETC course?"

"At a cost of over $100,000? Don't you have a better use for that money?...I thought so. Here's what I suggest you do: Since the twelve aren't badly failing, just declare all of them to have passed and give the twelve extra training. Instead of the one-day-a-month advanced training that your new agents get, give the twelve two days for the first couple of months. I'll shoot over to you the details of their weak points."

Vance was relieved. "That would make things a lot easier."

Kel nodded. "Tell me, Leon; you've known about this…likely train wreck for awhile. Why didn't you come to me about it?"

"I didn't know that there was anything you could do," Vance said, numbly. He was still thinking of the good news about the PEB scores. Most agencies held the late-course Physical Efficiency Battery to be extremely important, for if their agent trainees weren't fit in all areas, they weren't likely to do well in the field.

Kel eyed him, and Vance felt, uncomfortably, that he was being scrutinized. Kel said, kindly, "Try me, when you're stuck. I can't guarantee results, but maybe sometimes I can be of help."

That was a good answer. "Thanks, Kel." Vance shook his hand as they both got up. "I really do appreciate it. I mean it." And he did.

NCIS HQ was a little quieter than normal this day. A number of employees had taken the day off to get an early start on the Memorial Day holiday weekend. It was the unofficial start of summer.

Gibbs barged into Vance's office just as Vance had started his second cup of coffee. Vance gave him the evil eye. When Gibbs bypassed Leslie (who was a bit afraid of him, as most people would be), it was a sure sign that he was explosive.

"My team was supposed to be on call this weekend!" Gibbs thundered. "And you took us off. Why?"

"Most people would be glad to hear that they didn't have to work a holiday weekend," Vance returned, mildly. "Or did I miss hearing the words 'thank you' from you?"

"We would enjoy it had we known in advance that we didn't have to work, and so could have made plans to get away."

"Do you think that the agency really cares about what its people do or don't do on weekends?"

"Stop playing cat-and-mouse, Leon. What's the real reason for this change of plans?"

"All right." Vance folded his hands and looked Gibbs straight in the eye. "It's a big holiday weekend. We're light on staff. I don't have sufficient back-up on duty to come to your aid if you and your people get in trouble."

"In trouble…? You're still not thinking about that threat, are you?"

"Every day, as you should be."

"There've been no further threats made."

"Doesn't mean a thing. We're no closer to finding out who made the threat. He may be biding his time, hoping he has us sweating and unable to sleep. His time to strike may be when your guards are down. Losing an agent is always bad; losing four is…unspeakable."

"Not intending to die anytime soon."

"Good. Keep it that way."

"Can we have our weekend duty back?"

"No."

"That's your final word?"

"Good day, Gibbs."

Vance turned to the window when Gibbs left. The MCRT could take next weekend, instead. It was due to rain all weekend then, and they could enjoy having to work on a crappy weather weekend.

Friday, May 28

Tuesday, May 25

Wednesday, May 19