5 A pretty good close up
McGee had been spending one of his occasional nights in Abby's coffin, so Leon Vance is spared the expense of a third car. Abby is wearing a yellow cotton dress and no make up and she looks…smaller. "It actually belongs to Sister Rosalita, but I borrowed it after I spilled beer on my bowling outfit. I wore it because it's the most cheerful thing I could find. I think it's so important to dress cheerfully in situations like this."
Normally Gibbs would cut her off, not being much interested in her thoughts on the appropriate clothing to wear to a carjacking-stabbing-kidnapping. And neither McGee nor Gibbs could be described as cheerfully dressed. But there's no need, as there's nothing else to talk about yet.
"How does Ducky know how Tony is?" McGee asks. "I thought he was in France."
"His conference ended two days ago. He decided to spend the rest of the week in Spain. You know how hard it is to come back after just three days." Abby turns to Gibbs. "Will they need pictures of Becks? I've got lots. Some on my computer and some on my iPad." She flips through some files on her iPad and holds it up to Gibbs. "This one is really recent, and it's a pretty good close up."
The pretty good close up shows a small girl wearing an oversized Ohio State jersey, a tiara, and an enormous smile. She is five, and judging from the smile, still has all her baby teeth. She has dark curly hair and light olive skin, which she gets from her mother. Her smile is all DiNozzo.
"I think they'll have done that already, Abby."
"Well, of course. Ziva will have plenty of pictures." She flips through a few more pictures, smiling. "Oh, here's one with Ducky! Isn't that sweet?"
"Very," McGee says. He meets Gibbs's eyes, and then he looks away. They both know too many stories like this and how they end.
Abby is still determinedly cheerful. "You know, I really think everything's going to be ok. Tony and Becks are both Cancer, Ziva's Scorpio. Mercury's going retrograde, which can mean communication problems, but it really mostly affects air signs. Otherwise, nothing major going on. I think they'll be ok."
Something major is already going on, McGee thinks, but can't bear to burst her bubble. It will burst soon enough on its own. "If it's a straight-up theft, they'll probably just drop the k—Rebecca off somewhere. What does Tony drive these days? A BMW?"
"Oh, no, they have a Mini Clubman." Abby holds up a picture of Ziva beside a blue Mini with a white roof. "And a Smart Car." And she holds up a picture of Tony and Becks washing the little red car.
McGee can't suppress a laugh. "Tony drives a Smart Car? Tony? It looks like a thumb."
Abby is stern. "The streets are narrow where they live. And it gets great gas mileage but still has a lot of safety features. It's a great choice. Very responsible."
McGee is close to saying something about the unlikely pairing of Tony and responsible, but stern Abby gives hard head smacks, and presumably Tony, now Special Agent in Charge and owner of a Smart Car, is responsible these days. But it's hard to believe.
Gibbs is relieved when the airfone rings. He listens as Vance gives him an update and then asks that the personnel files of the Rota office be sent to Abby, so he can look them over and figure out if there's anyone there that can help run an investigation like this. And it will give him a reason to get that damned iPad and its enormous photo album out of Abby's hands.
The Rota office has ten slots, but one is empty, and two are away on detail. The remainder is a grab bag, mostly young, and only one SA has more than five years in. Rota isn't a hardship station, but it's not a glamour station either, and the most ambitious and talented are nosing around for slots in San Diego or Washington after they have a few good fitness reports under their belts. He closes the files and tries to remember who he knows in Naples, in Brussels, anyone who could reach Rota in twelve hours or so and be useful.
Why bring Abby? The lab in Rota is probably rudimentary, and Abby might be more useful in Washington. Why bring McGee? Tim has drifted away from fieldwork and back into tech. These days he's as likely to be on loan to Homeland Security or NSA. Why not one of Gibbs's own agents? He has a perfectly good team these days, with a former MP and a former Metro detective. They have been together for nearly two years, and they could run an investigation like this competently.
Sentimentality, Gibbs thinks, disgusted with himself. His current team is competent enough and could run this investigation without botching it, but they couldn't pull off a job like Somalia. Not that something like Somalia will be needed, but the impulse to fall back on those days, and those people, had just been too strong. You're getting too old for this job, Gibbs tells himself, and maybe you've already screwed the pooch, if those poor probies in Rota haven't already done it for you. And you can't screw this one up.
Vance, who has a tidy mind, has also forwarded DiNozzo's recent updates, and something catches Gibbs's eye right away. On Monday they had found a chop shop just north of Rota and impounded a vehicle belonging to a Marine dependent. DiNozzo's typing is as lousy as ever, but Gibbs is used to it, and he reads the shorthand in the 24-hour sheet as "Possible international connection? Russian? Good equipment for locals." Gibbs checks the photos: two stalls, newish-looking equipment. Russians are big these days in car smuggling, though Bulgarians are muscling in. The notes also suggest that they'll check with the civilian port authorities, but don't indicate what follow-up has been done.
Gibbs looks over the carjacking reports. Both at knifepoint, both by a single perp, young male, probably Spanish, otherwise the descriptions are vague. But both sound professional: grabs on quiet suburban streets, no other witnesses, no injuries. Quick. Clean.
Gibbs goes back to the personnel reports and finds the cell number of the SA he thinks DiNozzo would be most likely to trust. (He doesn't want to call Ziva; he wants to see her when he talks to her.) It takes him three tries, but when he gets through, he's told that all the usual things are being done: BOLO on the car, canvass of the scene, tight security on base, wiretaps on the relevant phones. They are working the carjacking angle hard and turning over the chop shop again.
Gibbs hangs up. It all sounds like what he'd do. The carjacking angle is the best one right now. The others hadn't ended in violence, but both victims had been women, and neither had offered resistance. DiNozzo wouldn't give up a car without a fight under any circumstances—even if looks like a thumb—and certainly not one with his daughter in it.
McGee and Abby are both on their computers. He asks McGee, "Can you track DiNozzo's cellphone from here?"
"We've been trying. Nothing."
Well, of course it wouldn't be that easy. He takes a deep breath and calls Ducky.