A/N: Here are your next three chapters. I apologize for them being a day later than I'd thought I'd get them out by. But hey, schools out, so all is well.
These three chapters are not the most action packed. I wish they were, but they're not. However, they are essential to plot building. So please, hang in there. I promise that the action is most defiantly going to pick up.
Oh, and thank you all so much for the reviews and story alerts and such. I'm glad you guys are enjoying the story. It makes it much more fun to write, so thank you.
Ch. 7 Fried Hard Drive
McGee waited patiently ans Palmer spoke to the agent working behind evidence. Bogged down by paperwork, McGee couldn't get down to the evidence garage with Jimmy until about three o clock. McGee was far enough away not to hear anything, but he could see that the agent looked uncertain about violating a classified order on a piece of evidence. Finally, Palmer waved McGee over.
The nervous evidence agent spoke up.
"Look, I'm letting you in here because I owe Jimmy a big one, but I swear to God, something goes down and I get questioned, I'm singing like a canary." McGee nodded.
"Then I guess I hope you don't get questioned." Jimmy gave McGee a hearty slap on the back and left the evidence garage. The agent in charge unlocked the cage and brought McGee inside. He led him straight to the back of the garage to a box that read CLASSIFIED 866.
"That's the box Agent McGee. I'll let you get it down. I don't want to know about anything having to do with this case. At all." Again, McGee nodded. Within minutes he was seated at a table, the charred laptop out and his plugged up to it.
Falling into his own world, McGee began to search through the salvaged information. He opened up the information on the Somalian terrorist camp. Instead of just grazing, he read the information in depth. What he found put a frown on his face.
It looked as though this camp had been in existence for a long time. At least for three years. Not only was it a terrorist training camp, but it was center for arms dealing. McGee found records of vast quantities of arms being received by the camp and then shipped out again. They were making a huge profit off being the middle man for arms transactions. Their wealth seemed to be what protected them, money buying the silence of all those who knew the existence of the camp. While McGee found the information valuable, it still didn't easy his uneasiness. So he kept searching. After a few moments, he came up with a list with US addresses. They were from all over the country and the names attached to them generic American names, the kind everybody had and everyone forgot. After closer examination, McGee found two words that made him pale. Identifications Issued. The names were fake, but the addresses were not. And on a terrorists computer, it could only mean one thing: sleeepers.
After all, it was Abin's job, thought McGee. He figured that this computer had once been Abin's life, keeping track of all of the sleepers connected to the Somalian terrorist camp. The list was thirty five names long.
Suddenly a voice rang out in the evidence garage that made McGee freeze in fear.
"I need to evaluate some evidence. It should be logged as classified." Vance's words where like sharp snaps to McGee. He froze in place barely breathing, swearing that Vance would be able to hear the hum of the laptop.
"Um, sorry director, I can't let you into the garage." The voice of the evidence worker made a blossom of hope bloom in McGee's stomach. As silently as possible he closed the screen of his computer. Placing it under the charred one, he put both in the the evidence box. Vance began to speak again.
"May I ask why the Director of NCIS is not permitted in the NCIS evidence garage." To McGee's surprise, the agent held his ground.
"Yes Sir. I'm sorry. There's been an issue with a minor case. Agents involved think that it might have been an issue with the chain of evidence. Can't let anyone in our out until the issue's sorted." Quietly as he could McGee edged his way behind the shelf concealing him from Vance. Ever so cautiously, he peaked around the corner. Vance looked close to exploding.
"Look you listen to me. I need that box. Now. What's in that box means more than the rules. So cut the crap and let me in." McGee thought he was done for sure, but again, the agent's voice rang out through the garage.
"No Director Vance. You have to understand, you don't have any say in the matter. I hate to be disrespectful, but these rules are made by those higher up than you. Give us another three hours and we'll have it sorted." Vance took a couple of deep breaths before speaking.
"You have an hour." He strode to the elevator. McGee sank to the ground and wiped his sweating forehead. He heard the steps of the agent walk to him.
"Just to be clear Agent McGee: When I said that I'd sing like a canary, I meant when I got questioned. I didn't consider that being questioned." McGee quickly took a scrap of paper from his pocket and scrawled a number on it.
"You need anything, ever, that's my number. Because now I owe you a big one. Don't ever hesitate to call." McGee was beyond relief.
"I'll keep that in mind McGee. Now you've got fifty minutes to scram before Vance gets back." McGee nodded and the agent strode away.
Now, McGee was even more uneasy. Vance knew more than he'd let on. Something in the evidence box. McGee knew it couldn't be the computer. Vance would need a tech to look at it and McGee would know if any had been approached. They still called him boss when ever they saw hi. As before, he continued to search. After many more minutes, he came across an unnamed file. He opened it. It was a letter in Arabic. Damn my language skills, thought McGee bitterly. In addition to all the previous lists and facts McGee copied the file onto his computer. Still not satisfied, but feeling as if he were on the right track McGee continued searching. Clicking on a file, he discovered it was the computer's history. He read it and his heart felt one emotion. Fear. The contents of the computer had been copied to another computer. However, it wasn't that there was now a third party involved that scared McGee, even though that was problematic enough. It was that the computer that had the copy of Abin Tabel's hard drive was registered under the Israeli Embassy.