Chapter 15 – Unfinished Business
Vance nodded to Gibbs and Abby as he came into the lab. "You have news, Ms. Sciuto?"
She smiled her dark-lipsticked smile. "Of our pipe bomb. Yes, sir. It would have been easier to work with if I had gotten my hands on it before they detonated it—"
"Ms. Sciuto, we are not having any live bombs inside NCIS. Not now; not ever."
Pouting for a second, Abby then went on. "Anyway. There were enough fragments available after detonation that I was able to identify the components and where they originated from, mostly. It's a common shrapnel mixture; not anything jazzy or cutting edge. Probably done by a talented—or, at least, a not-incompetent—amateur who found instructions on the internet."
"So it could have done real damage?" asked Gibbs.
"Well, yeah, Gibbs," she tutted. "Could have done serious damage to that part of the building, to the first floor and probably weakened the second floor on that corner. That's assuming it went off there, if it was on a timer, and wasn't picked up by someone."
"Was it on a timer?"
"I can't be sure. I can't rule it out, either. There are traces of substances that might have been from a timing mechanism—then again, if this was done by an amateur, it may not have been a good timer."
"If it was on a timer, they'd want it to go off probably as people arrived in the morning, to do the most damage—or at least, to bring about the most panic," Vance noted.
"Any prints, Abbs?" asked Gibbs.
"If there were, they were atomized, Gibbs," Abbs sighed. "Too bad the Navy didn't dust it for prints before blowing it up."
"I don't expect them to take that risk in handling it."
Abby pouted again. "I would have."
Vance crossed his arms. "Ms. Sciuto, if NCIS ever establishes a bomb squad of its own, I'll see that you're on it."
"Oh, really?" Abby squealed, and then saw his cold look. "Okay, I walked into a joke," she grumbled.
"Ms. Sciuto, do you have anything to trace the bomb to anyone?"
"Partially. The payload included copper nails. You know how copper nails are used to kill trees? Not that any good person should want to slaughter trees, but people do do that."
"Can you trace the copper nails?"
"Unfortunately, no. They're pretty common and not only used in tree-homicide. Boat builders sometimes use them. You should know that, Gibbs. But—I found something else. There were also a fair amount of rivets in the bomb, probably close to a kilo. And rivets quite often are stamped with manufacturing numbers." Seeing Vance's pointed look, she decided against playing it out. "It's not like I can identify just where your mad bomber got them, but this particular type is known to be used in boats in construction in the Baltiwash area, and down the coast to Norfolk. There are three boat builders in the area, and—"
"Thank you, Abbs. We'll take it from here." Gibbs gave her hand a squeeze.
"No peck?" Vance remarked on their way out.
"For you? Leon, you're a married man," Gibbs grinned.
Vance watched as Gibbs sent Tony and Ziva out to see what they could find from the boat building companies. He didn't miss the momentary look Tim had about being left behind to ride his computer. It was transitory, but it had been there. Vance sympathized with the young man, but the needs of the agency outweighed the desires of the employees, and Gibbs knew what he was doing. Tim would have to put up with it.
Gibbs had discouraging news—or, rather, no news—at the end of the work day. Tony and Ziva had turned up nothing. Tim had turned up nothing. Vance mentally kicked himself for turning the bomb over to the Navy in the first place. If only we'd kept it…
It wouldn't be so bad if this could be considered an isolated incident. But it couldn't. Where there was one bomb and no perpetrator apprehended, others might follow.
Tony had also questioned the Marines who had been on duty at the gates on the evening of July 1 into the morning of July 2. They hadn't seen anyone unusual. Many people came and went by the Navy Yard gates, and while scrutiny was a little sharper after dark, it wasn't perfect. Only a fool would think it was. Could someone have come up the river, by boat? Maybe. Doubtful.
Why NCIS? Why were they the target? There was plenty of firepower inside the building, enough to take down a legion of pipe bombers. Okay; that was an exaggeration. But still.
Vance drummed his fingers on his desk. First, he would switch the pipe bomb investigation over to another team. No need to keep the MCRT tied up on something that might go cold. Then, it was time to put out a memo to the employees. He would dress up the old "If you see something, say something" one, make it a little more noticeable. No need to be direct or specific as to a threat; there were too many non-agent employees here who were prone to panic and to set the less-prone ones off when they did so.
He sighed and called Jackie to tell her he would be late for dinner.
After three straight days lacking any disturbance in the office routine, at 1 o'clock Vance flexed his fingers, rose from his desk, and decided to take a walk. "Phone me if something comes up," he said to Leslie as he passed by Baker's desk. He almost hoped that a call would come. The SECNAV was on vacation this week. So was NCIS' assistant director. There was almost no one who would be likely to come to Vance with an emergency. I should be glad.
Vance spent a few minutes on his walk standing at the front entrance, beyond Security, chatting with the guards and smiling at employees who straggled in. Then he spotted Jimmy Palmer, wearing a suit, as always, and his necktie flapping as he ran in, out of breath. "Good afternoon, Mr. Palmer."
"Oh! Director! Hello."
"Have you got a moment?"
Jimmy looked stressed. "Er, actually, sir, I have only one minute to avoid being late…"
Vance knew that Jimmy had some morning classes, and figured that it might be a struggle to get to work on time. "I'll square it with Doctor Mallard. Why don't you come with me? We can use one of these offices…" He led the way to a small conference room on the first floor.
"Is uh…that is, I…have I done something wrong, Director? I, uh, I—"
"Relax, Palmer. I never got a chance to thank you for all the work you put into the bicycle race. That went above and beyond what was expected."
Jimmy was frozen. Then he opened and closed his mouth a few times without saying anything.
"Palmer? Is there something the matter?"
Again the fish motions with the mouth. Finally, Jimmy stammered, while looking at the floor, "N-no, Director."
"You seem ill at ease," Vance said, sympathetically. "What's wrong?"
"I, uh…are you going to let me go, Director?"
Vance frowned. "Are you asking if I'm going to fire you? Whatever gave you that notion?"
Jimmy again avoided meeting his eyes. "I know I'm not…not your typical employee. I know what people say about me. My sense of humor is…and sometimes I…but I try hard, and, well, oh well, I know trying doesn't count; it's results that matter in performance, and I don't…" When Vance didn't say anything, Jimmy continued in almost a whisper. "They say there's going to be a second round of furloughs. And this one will be performance-based. I…I need this job, Director. Medical school is so expensive, and I couldn't get by if all I did was flip burgers…"
Vance cleared his throat, startled by this turn of events. Now he really regretted not getting out among the rank-and-file more often to nip some of these strange outgrowths of the grapevine. "Palmer, listen to me: there are no plans for a second round of furloughs. There's no need for them. We're doing fine now. Whoever told you that was…who told you that, anyway?"
"I don't know," Jimmy said with a wave of his hands. "It's just buzz I've heard lately. I…" He gulped. "People sometimes say things to me, I know, to get me riled, but this…this wasn't just directed at me. I've heard other people say it when…when they didn't know I could hear them."
Gah. Another crisis. "Palmer, let me assure you, I have no intention of laying you off or firing you. You have your…quirks…but you do your job well. Keep it up."
"Thank you, Director!" Jimmy eagerly shook the offered hand as both men rose.
"You might as well go to work. I'll call Dr. Mallard and tell him you're on your way down." Vance even managed a smile for the young man as they exited the room and went their separate ways.
Back in his office, Vance stood over Leslie's desk. "Have you heard any rumors about a second round of furloughs?"
"I hope not. It's too hot out to take another two weeks now, and you know I don't do well in the sun." Leslie then saw the look in his boss' eye and cut the snark. "No, Director; this is the first I've heard about it. That's a real rumor?"
Vance nodded. "Baseless, of course. See if you can track it back to its source."
"You got it," said Leslie, who was good at wheedling such information out of people. He also had a good sense of who might be spreading rumors.
Leaving Leslie, Vance went into his own office and stood at his window, looking out. The air-conditioning system pumped cool air across his neck. Why do people spread these rumors? Why do they delight in seeing others in pain?
It was a scorcher of a day…already 100 degrees at 11:30 a.m. Vance was aware that many employees would have brown-bagged their lunches today to avoid going out in the heat at lunchtime, even if that meant peanut butter-and-jelly sandwiches instead of fresh salads or burgers. Even the Director of NCIS wasn't above that: Vance had a roast beef sandwich (leftovers from last night) and a Jell-o cup in his mini-fridge.
Another month almost over. A pipe bomb with a cold trail. A rumor monger whom Leslie hasn't uncovered…yet.
He hated it when affairs weren't resolved quickly. Summer despair was just as bad as depth-of-winter despair. The only difference was there was more sunlight to shine on it in summer.
"Yes, Leslie?"
Baker had a don't shoot the messenger look about him. "Um, the HVAC people called. They're able to start work on the heating system tomorrow…"
Vance's eyebrows asked, And?
"…but, uh…they have to turn off the a-c to do it."
"For how long?"
"They hope for no more than three-five days."
Oh, joy. "Fine. Well, not fine. I'll prepare a memo for the staff. We'll be generous with granting leave and relaxing the dress code."
He already felt hot.
Monday, July 26
Friday, July 23
Friday, July 9
Thursday, July 8