Chapter 18 – Audit
Friday, September 3
Vance rose to greet the General Accounting Office audit team when they entered his office at 8:59 a.m. "A pleasure to meet you," he said, and shook their hands. Betanux, Wolcoff and Paine. They sounded like a law firm. "We are at your service here, and hope that you will be able to tell us how to make our agency better."
"Thank you, Director Vance," said Ms. Betanux, the team leader. "Will you be at our disposal throughout our time here?"
"Unfortunately, the duties of my job…crime doesn't take time off," Vance said mildly. "But my secretary here, Leslie Baker, will be available to you all week long." Vance had made sure that Leslie was there with him; having threatened him with shackles if he didn't show up.
Leslie stifled a sigh. "Where would you folks like to start?"
Vance fled to the squad room—anything to get out of his office, where the GAO team might corner him. "Are they going to look in our drawers?" he heard Agent Schmidt lament.
"I beg your pardon!" Tony said with mock shock.
Vance chuckled and moved on. He'd sent a memo out to the employees at the beginning of the week, announcing the upcoming audit, and requesting everyone's open cooperation. If Gibbs wanted to go through Ziva's and Tim's desks in their absence and dispose of any…outdated or unnecessary materials, that was his business. Not that he expected that anyone would do anything underhanded. There was just no point in leaving out in the open the naturally-human foibles that would not do the agency any credit.
Deliberately, Vance had cleared his from his calendar any meetings at Headquarters with outsiders during GAO's visit. Fornell really wanted to talk, though, so Vance and a bodyguard/driver made the short trip across town to the J. Edgar Hoover FBI building, rather than have Fornell come to the Navy Yard.
"You didn't bring Gibbs," Fornell remarked as Vance sat down in the agent's cluttered office.
"I don't discuss everything with Gibbs," Vance replied. "Not this matter, certainly."
Fornell nodded. "I wouldn't either, if I were you. So he doesn't know anything about the investigation into the death threats?"
"Not unless he's somehow strong-armed Klara Schultz, who's leading it. She's 20 years older than Ziva David, and just as scrappy a fighter."
Fornell grimaced. "Yeah. I know Klara. Even dated her once or twice. She'd die before she'd divulge anything on this investigation to someone who doesn't need to know. Such as Gibbs."
"Even Schultz doesn't know that I've involved the FBI in this," Vance said, loping his arm over the back of his chair. "I don't want to take any chances of a leak. Thank you for helping, Tobias."
"You'd do the same for us if we needed it," said Fornell. "As I see it, Klara and her team can continue probing Lotus'/Gower's background. The Bureau will take a look to see if there are bad apples in your agency."
Vance let out a deep breath. "I don't want to think that this was an inside job; that some trusted employee would do this, but…"
"You have to consider it. And it has to be stopped as quickly as possible, before they hit again. Gibbs and DiNozzo—they getting any protection?"
"Offered it to them, and they refused. They promised to keep their eyes wide open."
"And the fill-in guy you put on the team?"
"Thoroughly vetted. Father and uncle just retired from NCIS as agents. Has top secret clearance. I don't know how much closer I can scrutinize someone, unless I hire my wife."
"Jackie has too much sense to be an agent."
"That she does. Amazing woman."
Fornell tapped on his computer. "I've got my notes on our progress thus far. You want me to email this to you, or put it on a stick?"
"No. Just print it out," said Vance. "I'll read it here, and then you can shred it."
"Wow. You really are being cautious," Fornell said with admiration. "Okay. Looks like about ten pages. You can start reading, and I'll go grab us some fresh coffee."
Monday, September 6
Labor Day. There was nothing pressing that demanded Vance's attention at work, so he allowed himself to take the day off. Schultz was in charge at NCIS over the holiday weekend; she had his phone number if she needed him. Vance and his wife packed a picnic lunch and took the kids to a park for the last hurrah of summer. School would start again in two days.
A made-up game involving kicking a soccer ball around an imagined kingdom absorbed Lily and Jared while Vance and Jackie put away the picnic goods after lunch. "It's so peaceful here," Jackie murmured. "I like this park. Don't you, Leon?"
"I guess," said Vance. He was used to the concrete jungle of cities; all parks looked alike to him.
"Oh, you," Jackie scoffed. "There are so many special touches here. That fountain…built in 1920. That cute little bridge over the pond. Those ornamental mountain ash trees; so special because the tree isn't normally found this far south. Their berries are already turning orangey-red. Soon cedar waxwings will be flocking here to eat them. Such pretty birds. Do you have any idea what I'm saying, Leon?" But she knew the answer, and smiled. "It's part of what makes this park stand out. It's in the park's character."
He made a non-committal noise. "We should come here more often if you like it that much."
She hugged him from behind. "Leon, I can count on one hand the number of days in a year that I'm able to drag you off for a day for just the family…and the bodyguards."
"Hmm," he said, feigning a thoughtful look. "You're right. I don't get the bodyguards out in the sun enough. Bad me for ignoring their well-being."
"Leon!" she laughed, and squeezed him. "I'm just saying…I come to this park with the kids without you, sometimes, when you're busy. I like this park. I don't want to leave it."
"Leave it?"
"If we move. It won't be close enough by to be practical."
"Honey, why do you assume that we're going to move? If NCIS HQ does move to Quantico, that's still within commuting distance of Alexandria. There's no reason at all why we would want to move our home."
"Yes, there is. The Director of NCIS has to be available to his workplace all the time. If you need to get there in a hurry, being an hour away won't cut it, Leon. You'll want to be living closer to Quantico."
He squeezed her hands, which were still crossed over his stomach. "Too bad you're too old to join the Marines, hon. We could all move into base housing."
"I would make a dandy drill sergeant, wouldn't I?"
"The best!...Jackie, you and I function as a team. We're not going to move unless both of us want to move. I haven't even given much thought to moving house."
"But you will," she said, snuggling on his shoulder. "You know you're going to vote on the side of what you feel is best for the agency."
There was that. He fell silent, lost in thought.
The end of the year was approaching, and he would have to decide.
Tuesday, September 7
Vance was stuck with answering the administrative phones while Leslie went around NCIS with the GAO team. In a way, it was good that NCIS had a policy in place of not allowing visitors, no matter who, to roam unescorted about the building. After the death threats, you just didn't know who you could trust; no matter what pedigree they bore.
Leslie came back to his office at noon, looking frazzled. He'd parked the GAO team in the squad room, he said. Gibbs understood that he could shoot to kill if any of them so much as tried to move further than the water cooler until Leslie got back. Leslie would then see them to the front entrance so they could go out for their lunch. No doubt Leslie would go to lunch then, too…in the opposite direction.
Wednesday, September 8
Preliminary notes were coming in from the audit team as they finished the first few departments. Legal could be more transparent, they noted; it has a thin sheen of trying to be inscrutable behind legalese.
Well, of course it does. Legal doesn't write reports for the layman; most of their documents go directly to JAG, Vance thought with a snort. They've always been willing to explain things. All someone has to do is ask.
Legal, the GAO findings went on, should have better online sources available for case searches and useful references for other federal, municipal, and foreign law enforcement. They cited several.
Now that's the kind of help that we can use.
Accounting…NCIS' Accounting office…was in reasonably good shape. Drafts were in order, the requisite documentation was found in 99.8% of the audit sample, regulations and guidelines were clear and easy to understand.
Yes; that department's always been good.
He looked up as he felt a presence. Gibbs.
"Got a moment, Leon?"
"Sure. What's on your mind?"
"The GAO hounds. They started looking at Cybercrimes just before they broke for lunch."
"Is that a problem?"
"They came to me, looking for McGee, because of the couple of months he worked there. They wanted to ask him some questions, and, not finding him, figured out that I was his boss." Seeing Vance's puzzled look, Gibbs went on. "I don't want any of these nitpickers taking their job so seriously that they decide to go interview McGee in the hospital. They try it, I'll break them, personally."
Vance's lip curled in disgust. "You send them to talk to me. I'll tell them what they need to know about McGee's work in Cybercrimes."
"Thanks. I'd hope they wouldn't find a need to investigate McGee too thoroughly at all. You know." Gibbs departed.
Indeed, I do. More than a few times now, McGee's work had had him do some hacking. Not the sort of thing that one really wants outsiders to know about.
Friday, September 10
It was the final day of the audit. Things had gone well, overall. While it would be a few months before the GAO sent him the formal report of their findings, there had been little disruption in NCIS' work week, and, as Gibbs put it, none of the agents had drawn their fire arms on the audit team. Undoubtedly a good choice.
Vance heard Leslie walk in—stagger in might be the better term—to his outer office around 2 o'clock. The GAO had departed. Vance waited for the expected reaction…
There came a quiet cry of delight, and then Leslie poked his head inside Vance's door. He carried a tall, rich-looking blueberry muffin with loving care. "Thank you, Director!"
With a smile, Vance waved him away. When Leslie did exceptional work, perhaps a few times a year, Vance would reward him with a muffin. Leslie loved muffins. This trifling thing had become a joke between the two of them, but they each played their part: Vance as the bestower of this great gift, and Leslie as the awed recipient.
If only all of his employees could be so easily soothed…