Chapter 2

"So is our Cat McGee alive or dead now? You be the judge," the kidnapper, off screen, said with a laugh, just before Tony's exclamation.

It was what happened next that made the team gasp. Tim, who was still slumped over, then raised his head, released his arms from the wall shackles effortlessly, stood up, faced the camera, and smiled broadly. "Hi!" he said cheerfully. "Can you come pick me up? My car's not where I am." He then gave an address in the southwest quadrant of the District.

The team froze, shocked. Even Vance, happening by then, had no words.

From the visual communicator, Abby said, "Gibbs! I think we may have something! A close-up of the shackles leads me to believe that they're a very light-weight metal. In fact, they almost look artificial. I can't explain it. But I'm working on it…"

"Never mind, Abbs." Gibbs said, his voice husky. He terminated the connection. "You heard the man," he said to his team. "Let's go."

"Boss, this has all the makings of a classic trap," Tony argued. "How do we know that that wasn't filmed hours ago?"

"We don't." Gibbs led his people out in a rush.

As they hit the elevator, Abby's voice came on again. "I'm checking the manufacturers of light-weight metals, Gibbs…Gibbs? Gibbs?"

The two NCIS sedans, driven by Gibbs and Tony, screeched to a halt at the address Tim had given. With the late hour, on-street parking in this retail block was wide open.

Already wearing vests under their NCIS jackets, the three burst out of the cars, SIG Sauers in hand. "Hi!" Tim greeted them from under a canopy. He wasn't alone; an arm's length away from him was a short, pug-like man who looked a little nervous.

"Federal agents!" Tony bellowed. "Stay where you are!" The unidentified man raised his arms slightly in surrender.

Ziva moved in to handcuff him, and could have sworn that Tim rolled his eyes.

"Knock off the histrionics, Tony; didn't I tell you you could come get me?" Tim said with a half grin.

Tony took a step forward to give Tim a head slap, but Gibbs grabbed his arm; holding him back. "This is all wrong," Gibbs said, lowly. "They may have a bomb on him."

Hours of torturous waiting had pushed Tony close to the edge. "No," he said mournfully. "Probie, tell him it isn't so. You're free, somehow. I don't know how. I don't even care right now. But it's all over, yeah? You're okay. Everything's okay now. Tell him, Tim. Tell him!"

But Gibbs still had his gun leveled, and because he did, so did Ziva. "Tony, call the bomb squad," he directed. "Have them bring their equipment."

Tim's smile drooped a little. "Boss, I assure you I'm not—"

"I trust in my gut, McGee, and in evidence."

In under an hour, the bomb squad had cleared Tim, having found no trace of explosives on him. "Good," said Gibbs. "Let's get you to a hospital, then; get your wounds tended to."

Tim appeared to squirm a little at the worry still present in Gibbs' voice. "Boss, I'm okay. Let's just go back to NCIS and I'll tell you all about it."

"You're sure you don't want medical treatment? That gash; those bruises—"

"Positive."

Ziva offered, "Tony and I could take the prisoner back to NCIS while you—"

For the first time, Tim glanced at the other man. "Oh, that's Norman. He shouldn't be a prisoner. You should let him go."

"I think you took one too many blows to the head, McGroggy. You're talking crazy," said Tony.

"Let's go back to NCIS," said Gibbs. "I can't wait to hear this story."

At NCIS, Ducky examined Tim under Gibbs' and Tony's eyes. "He is suffering from a severe case of stage paint," the ME declared shortly. "Someone is quite proficient at creating realistic-looking wounds and bruises."

"He's not hurt?"

"Not as far as I can tell."

"I told you I was okay, boss." Tim hopped down off the table and put his shirt back on.

Gibbs gripped him by the collar. "Then you have a lot of explaining to do," he said coldly.

Tim gulped.

The team, Ducky and Abby all settled into Vance's office. Vance made a hearty pot of coffee (and one of tea), given the lateness of the hour.

"Talk, Agent McGee," Vance demanded, the pleasantries over. "How did you escape from your kidnappers?"

"It was that light-weight metal, wasn't it?" Abby exclaimed, bouncing in her chair. "You broke free, overpowered that horrid little sparkplug of a man, and then called us to come get you!"

"Ms. Sciuto, please stifle yourself," said Vance. "What's the real story, McGee?"

Tim coughed. "If Abby means my restraints...those were from a costume party shop. They're just gray plastic, and don't really close all the way."

"What!"

Ziva said slowly, "Were you really a prisoner, McGee?"

Tim looked from side to side. "I, uh...that depends, I guess..."

Gibbs got up and leaned over him. "It's after 1 a.m. and you're playing semantics with us?"

"No, boss! Sorry, boss. I didn't want to do it. I was forced to!" He lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. For everything. I wish it had never happened."

"What have you done, McGee?" asked Vance. Then a thought occurred to him. "You were behind the plot to get those three sailors released from prison! It was you, all along!"

Panicked, Tim rose. "That's not true, Director! I swear I didn't do that! He had me kidnapped after I got done canvasing that neighborhood with the picture of the suspect. He made me do all this!"

"Who, McGee?"

"Don't tell me it's that nebbish, Norman, who's down in Holding," Tony scoffed. "I don't think he could engineer an escape from a paper bag."

Tim scowled at him. "Norman is an audio mixing genius. You weren't able to discover his real voice from the videos, were you? He did all that mixing himself. Seventeen layers, including a toy microphone and a duck caller."

"You were in it together with this…Norman?"

"He said he'd have me fired if I didn't go along with it!"

"Norman would have you fired? Make some sense, Tim!"

Tony shot Abby a look. There was too much confusing talk; too little information. Raw conclusions were flying about like planes coming in to land on an aircraft carrier. "Boss—Director—you can't seriously believe that McGee had a part in staging this! I'll—I'll go out on a limb and swear that this Boy Scout doesn't have it in his soul to commit a crime like this. There, McGee. That's probably the only character reference you'll ever get from me. Use it wisely."

Tim gave him a sour look. "If you all would only give me a chance…"

Pacing, Vance stopped in front of Tim. "Dang it, McGee; there's no one higher than me who can fire you. The President himself wouldn't get involved in this."

"Not the President, sir! But..."

Gibbs suddenly looked drained. "Your old pal, Leon. Secretary Jarvis."

"The SECNAV!" Tony said with a whistle. "But why?"

"He said he wanted to test all of you," Tim said, almost with a whimper, now that it was out. "He told me he wanted to make sure that his MCRT here would not give in to ransom demands." A faint smile traveled across his lips, and then was gone; melted under the others' glare.

"Did we pass?"

"Yes, Ziva. You all passed the test."

"You were never in any danger?"

"No, Abby. Norman is the SECNAV's brother-in-law. The videos were shot in a store room behind his shop. Bernice—that's Norman's wife—has a background in theater. She applied the makeup to mimic wounds and bruises. It was all a lot more comfortable than it probably looked."

Ducky looked uncertain. "You had us so worried, Timothy. You couldn't have given us a signal to show that…things were not as they seemed?"

Tim shook his head. "No! Don't you see? Don't you see? The test was on you, all of you, not on me. If you had been able to see through it, or question the reality, Secretary Jarvis might have felt that something harder would have been needed to test your loyalty to the agency."

"This isn't being recorded, is it, Director?" asked Tony.

Vance met his eyes, and shook his head.

"Thank you. So what you're saying, Tim, is that SOB….might have put you in real danger and made that more evident."

"I don't know! Maybe. All I could think of, was, 'Let's end this here and now.' "

"And around 11:30 Jarvis cut it off?"

"Yes. He was convinced that you were not going to give in to the kidnapper's demands, and told me I could go. So Norman made that final video. He then waited with me out in front. His son was going to come pick him up."

Vance picked up his desk phone. "Agent Ross, release Norman Lake, who's in Holding. He's free to go. Thank you."

"Sheesh; what a day," said Abby. "I think I'm just going to crash here, on my futon."

"A very long day indeed," said Vance. "There's no need for any of you to stay here overnight, though, unless you really want to. Go home. Come back in two hours late tomorrow."

Murmuring their thanks, the team filed out. They grabbed jackets and backpacks, firearms, badges, and other personal gear. Morning would come too soon, and they all felt so very tired.

In the parking garage, Tim remembered that his car wasn't here, and was about to call out to Tony, at the other end of the floor, when he saw a figure nearby in the shadows. "Norman! Sorry that they kept you in Holding. It took a while to make them understand. Hey!"

Norman wasn't alone, Tim saw now. Secretary Jarvis was there, too, and both he and Norman had guns trained on Tim. "Mr. Secretary! What's going on?"

Jarvis' smile was chilling. "They passed that test, Agent McGee. But can they pass another, if you're in greater danger? There are still three sailors in prison, perhaps unfairly. Get in the car."

-END-