13 You've got mail

And now they wait. After his rant, Gibbs can't just sit around, so he goes back into Tony's office as quietly as he can and pulls all the paperwork off his desk and out of his inbox. There's no real need to be quiet, because Ziva isn't sleeping, she's watching the images change on the digital frame.

And he can't send someone out for real coffee, either, so he's forced to drink the office swill. Normally he packs his own coffee, but he hadn't had time to grind any during his eight-minute packing window. And he hates paperwork. The patient combing through of records is not his skill. His mind doesn't work well while he's seated.

"Agent Cosgrove."

"Please call me Sarah."

"How are we doing on those court orders for the civilian info?"

"They're filled out. Judge Almeira should be done with dinner around 10:30."

"It's only 8:30 now."

"Tony says it's better to hit him after dinner. He'll be a lot less likely to read the forms too carefully."

"Is there some other judge who eats earlier?"

"Not in Rota. And not one so likely to sign orders from us. Almeira went to school in the U.S. and is pretty friendly. Tony plays golf with him."

"You suck up to judges?"

"We're in a foreign country, sir, and one that's an important ally. We try to be as diplomatic as possible."

"Have you diplomatically downloaded my MTAC feed, or are there privacy laws on that, too?"

She's holding up pretty well under the Gibbs stare. "MTAC has promised the download within fifteen minutes. They tape everything, sir, and the indexing scheme is a little difficult. And it's stored using a special compression process. It needs to be reconverted using a new protocol that-"

"Agent Cosgrove."

"Sarah, please."

"You and Agent McGee should have coffee together. You'd find a lot to talk about."

"Oh, no thank you, sir."

And then there's another BOLO hit. Cosgrove takes the details, and she's getting excited. "Roger that, we'll have agents en route ASAP." She turns to Gibbs. "A little girl matching Becks's description was just spotted at a gas station downtown. Two men, red four-door Smart Car."

"Run it down."

She sends the information to the two agents that have been running down BOLOs all day. "You don't seem very excited. I mean, it's fresh. And downtown traffic is terrible at this hour. Our agents are only three blocks away. They won't be hard to find."

"How'd you get into law enforcement, Sarah?"

"My father's retired NYPD. Lieutenant. Why aren't you more interested?"

"Why didn't you join the NYPD?"

She flushes. "I didn't think I'd be much good as a beat cop. Wrestling drunks and all that."

"You have to wrestle drunks in this job sometimes."

"The MPs do most of that. Why aren't you interested?"

"The perp is a pro. He wouldn't be caught in downtown dinner traffic. And the Smart Car was ditched hours ago. We just haven't found it yet."

"So we shouldn't run it down."

"Of course you should. I could be wrong."

"But your gut says otherwise. We've heard about your gut."

"Do you think my gut is right?"

"Tawan is starting to, and he's the best police in the group after Tony." Her cheerfulness slips a little. "I wish I knew what Tony thought."

"So think like him. How does he think?"

"Like a real police. Tony has a lot of rules. Everyone lies. Don't trust, verify. Wear gloves, you only get one shot at a crime scene. Learn to do it the old-fashioned way because technology isn't always your friend. Ask who benefits. Corollary: it's always the wife." Sarah smiles. "That last probably isn't helpful here."

"Probably not. What about never date a coworker?"

"That would be weird. Given the circumstances."

Sarah sits back down, pulls another case file but doesn't look at it. She says, "I keep tripping over the who benefits question. Before I was sure it was tied to the carjacking ring. Now there's a ransom demand, so maybe money's been the motive all along. Does that mean we're looking in the wrong place for the bad guy?"

"Good question." A good question for which Gibbs has no good answer yet. There are too many things bothering him right now, including why this cheerful young woman seems so familiar, and he can't ever seen to get them all lined up in one place so he can figure out what it all means.

And then Ziva's cellphone beeps. Not rings; beeps. "I have an email," she says.

It's from a gmail address that no one recognizes. It specifies coordinates and then: 500K Euro 50 & 100 notes 1 suitcase midnite come alone.

"Cosgrove, can you figure out where that email came from?"

"I'm backtracing it now."

"McGee, where are we on the money?"

"We can make the midnight deadline. But it'll be close, especially if the drop zone isn't in the area."

"It is," Abby says. "It's just north of town."

Sarah looks at the map. "It's maybe a klick east of the chop shop."

"Where'd that email come from?"

Sarah looks back at her computer. "That can't be right," she says.

McGee leans over. "But it is. Where is it?"

"It's a coffee shop right off base. Across the street from the main gate."

"Boss, we've got the VPN. We can identify the computer when we get there."

"Let's go. Cosgrove, you might get to roll a perp. No, Ziva, you stay here. Abby, go on preparing for the drop. I'm going to need something to go in that suitcase."

"Oh, Gibbs, I can make you something wonderful. With a timer. And lovely ink."