1The Gibbs Says Uncle Affair

by Gale Force

Part 8.

1. Abby

Abby drove back to NCIS headquarters alone. From Norfolk up to Richmond...not even stopping to take in her favorite spot in Richmond - the Edgar Allan Poe Museum - she continued on into Washington, DC, and to NCIS headquarters, a four hour drive all told.

She hadn't wanted to leave Norfolk, but she knew full well that the best way she could serve Ducky was to be in her lab, ready to process any evidence that the rest of the team should send her way.

2. Solo

Napoleon Solo sat in Abby's recently vacated hotel room, wondering if he hadn't outsmarted himself. He'd been so concerned about not being recognized that he'd also removed all or at least most of his ability to charm his way around the ladies... the old Napoleon Solo would have been let into the hotel room within minutes.... but he wasn't the old Napoleon Solo, he was just the old Napoleon Solo.

Charm was out, obviously, directness was in.

He had to talk to the people in charge of investigating Ilya's disappearance. The NCIS.

Now, if he were investigating this mystery through official channels, he'd have people on the spot...headquartered in the hotel.

And the clerk at the desk should be able to tell him where that was.

Napoleon gathered up his cane, limped to the door, and opened it with a jerk. (He didn't really expect to catch anyone en flagrante delecto, either with an ear pinned to his door or just rushing away down the hallway, nevertheless that's how he'd be opening doors from now on.)

And it seemed that it had paid benefits on this occasion.

Two men stared at him, one - who had had his hand raised to knock - in shock, the other, expressionlessly.

The older one...the one obviously in charge...was in his fifties, Napoleon judged, with silvered hair, a handsome face set in a grim expression, and a slender build. His companion, much younger, an inch or so taller, beefier, had a round face and a slightly anxious expression. That one lowered his hand and glanced at the older man.

"Mr. Sykes," said the older one. "They told me you were psychic."

3. Ziva and Tony

Tony had looked up Kuchenko in the online white pages on his laptop, and now Ziva was driving in the direction of the only Kuchenko listed in the Norfolk phone book.

"The drivers around here get worse every time we're here," Ziva commented as she blared her horn and swerved around a slowpoke.

"Uh huh," said Tony.

After a few more minutes, they arrived in a residential section, filled with houses that Tony estimated were in the upper-middle-class range if not better, and Ziva slowed down.

"Turn left here," Tony directed. "Then right onto Ventnor. We're looking for Number 45."

Ziva turned onto the street. Every house was separated from that street by a vast lawn, and sidewalks ran along each side of the road. Every house also had a wide driveway that would easily fit a fleet of cars. Most of them had a single car in t he driveway. It was mid-morning...the wives were home, Tony thought, the second cars, belonging to hubby, wouldn't be back until around six pm or so.

The houses were similar in other ways. Each one had a white post with a mailbox sitting on top of it, right beside the driveway. The only individuality, it seemed, was how this area was decorated...some people had flowers, others nothing but grass, some had flags draped below the box, honoring their favorite sports team.

A single late model sedan was parked on the street, about three houses down from their target. Ziva could see no one inside it, nevertheless the tips of her fingers started to tingle.

"Hey, there it is," Tony pointed out.

Ziva glanced at him, but kept on driving past number 45 - which had an ODU flag hanging by the mailbox, then turned off at the next cross street. After another block, she drew the car to the side of the road.

Tony turned to look at her. "Well?"

"I didn't like that car on the road. So much room in the driveways...why park on the road?"

Tony shrugged. "Maybe it's someone they don't know. Older folks might not feel comfortable parking in someone's driveway."

It was Ziva's turn to shrug. "In Mossad, we learn to be very vigilant about things like that. As Abby would say, my spidey sense is tingling."

"You got the plate number?" asked Tony.

"Of course."

"Well, we can get Abby to run it for us. See who it belongs to."

Ziva nodded.

"In the meantime..." said Tony.

"In the meantime...?" Ziva prompted.

"He's an ODU fan," Tony mused. "And there's another game tonight. What're the odds he'll be at that game as well?"

"They might be good."

Tony grinned. "We do the warrant thing. Find out who the people are who sit on either side of this guy, and we take their places. Then we can talk to him in anonymity."

Ziva smiled. "I like the way you think, Tony."

4. Mallard

Ducky lay on the bed, propped up with two pillows, watching Laugh-In, and munching on a bread and butter sandwich. On the nightstand was the glass out of the bathroom, filled with water.

All of the shows he was watching, complete with commercials, seemed to be from 1969. The late 1960s, anyway. He did not bother to inspect the television set to see how it was being done. He was not a fool - there was some trickery involved, he didn't have to look for it.

Of more concern was the matter of his diet. When he'd wakened an hour ago, there had been a white bag just beside the door. Inside it had been a note: "You will receive your allotment of food each morning."

That was all the note said.

And his allotment of food? Bread and butter sandwiches. Peanut butter sandwiches. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Boloney sandwiches. And that was it. He'd obviously been kidnapped by men or teenagers.

Knowing how important it was that he keep his strength up, Ducky had gritted his teeth and chosen the bread-and-butter sandwiches. At least they were edible, and breakfast was the most important meal of the day.

Well...he'd always been meaning to lose weight...

5. Sapphire

Sapphire entered her home. She had spent an hour outside, wrapped in velvety blackness, looking up at the stars that shone so brightly here, far away from the light pollution of the major cities. Although there were several large telescopes at Polaris headquarters, she preferred looking through her own Astroscan.

The time zones were such that as Tony and Ziva settled down to watch the car watching Kuchenko's house (doing so by being parked five blocks away and using powerful field glasses) – Sapphire was enjoying the night stars, and now opened her computer and downloaded the file that contained the fingerprints of the man whom she thought was Ilya Kuryakin.

She did not have the sophisticated fingerprint-checking technology that NCIS or any law-enforcement agency had, nor did she feel she needed it.

When first being reminded of the existence of Kuryakin, she had drawn out of storage a box that had been in storage for many decades.

On top of the box now were two broken statuettes. Fingerprint powder still remained on the base of each one. One had been wielded, many years ago, by Ilya Kuryakin, the other by his dark-haired companion, Napoleon Solo. They had been broken over the heads of two of her parent's minions, as the UNCLE agents had made their escape which had developed into a rout of her parent's THRUSH cell.

Beside each statuette was a piece of black fingerprint tape, with which she had lifted those decade old fingerprints. Sapphire took up the tape that had belonged to Ilya Kuryakin, brought it to the computer, and compared it to the prints that she'd been sent.

Not a match.

Frowning, Sapphire brought over Solo's fingerprints.

Not a match.

Sapphire tapped a long red fingernail on her white teeth.

When agents changed their identity or impersonated someone else, it was easy to substitute the proper fingerprints in the various databases, so that anyone checking would find what they thought were the correct fingerprints...but that did not fit this case. She knew the fingerprints on that statuette were Kuryakin's...there was no way that broken statuette could have been switched with another at any time during the last several decades...

The man she'd had kidnapped was not Ilya Kuryakin.

Well...crap.

Well...the man was now useless. Better get rid of him.