One Less - Part 23

by joykatleen

After dropping Hatton off at the Pentagon – his original reason for flying to D.C. – Gibbs headed back to the Navy Yard. Hatton had given him some information he might be able to use, but damned if he knew how, yet. The most important item was Holbrook. Hatton was certain they weren't planning on moving on him while the ship was still in port. Which meant they didn't need to remove the sailor yet. But Gibbs certainly needed to get him to back off.

He was opening his phone to call DiNozzo when it rang. He glanced away from the road to check the caller ID. An unfamiliar D.C. number. He hit the answer button.

"How come you didn't tell me there's a reward?" Nicky's voice came over the line. He sounded a little miffed.

"What?" Gibbs asked.

"If there's a reward, how come you didn't tell me? Or wait, is that what you already gave me? The new clothes and stuff?"

"Nicky, what are you talking about?" Gibbs asked. He pressed the button on the dash to send the conversation into speakerphone mode and cradled the phone.

"The sign says there's a reward for more information. How come you didn't tell me?"

Gibbs was confused. A sign. Promising a reward. For what?

"You saw a sign promising a reward for information," Gibbs clarified. "On what?"

"The sailor's murder, that's what."

That made no sense. Gibbs frowned. "Where's the sign?" he asked.

"It's on the bulletin board at Father McKenna's."

Gibbs knew the place. It was a day-time drop-in center for homeless men that offered showers, laundry, mailbox service, and social opportunities. And lunch, of course. It was about five miles from the Yard, in the same neighborhood as the motel Nicky'd been staying in.

"Are you there now?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes. There's a phone they let people use inside."

"Stay there. I'll be there in 10 minutes," Gibbs said.

"Okay," Nicky said. "Hey, have you had lunch? They've still got some left. But not much. Maybe not any in 10 minutes. You want me to save you some?"

For a second, Gibbs had to smile. Sack lunch from Father McKenna's, complete with Bible tract and blessing. Yeah, he could see it.

"Nah, I already ate. See you soon." He clicked off and changed directions. On the way, he completed the call to DiNozzo, but got no answer. He left a message – Call me. Now. – and tried Tony's personal cell, with the same result. He briefly wondered why DiNozzo would be away from both cells, but figured he'd try again in half an hour. Gibbs didn't think the NCIS office was deep enough in the ship to block transmission, but it might be.

Nicky was standing outside the red brick building, blowing clouds of condensation into the air and shifting from foot to foot impatiently in the cold. The overcast was thick, but not heavy enough to mean snow tonight. Maybe a day or two before the next storm, Gibbs thought. Nicky was wearing the jacket they'd bought him, his mask and beanie in place. Gibbs parked in a red zone in front and climbed out.

"Hey Gunny, it's good to see you again," Nicky said in greeting. "Did you sleep good last night?" Gibbs pulled at his coat to be sure his holstered sidearm was well out of sight and stepped up onto the curb.

"Show me this sign you saw."

Nicky led the way into the building. There was a hallway leading directly down the center, with rooms on both sides. Just inside to the right was a large open room with groupings of couches and chairs, a television, a small library, and several tables. Through a pass-through window, Gibbs could see men and women making sandwiches in a large kitchen. Half a dozen men were standing around the window waiting. Another 20 or so were seated in various places around the room eating, reading, or watching the television. Some looked up when they came in. A few looked at him suspiciously. One got up and hurried out of the room. Gibbs' appearance and bearing didn't scream 'cop,' but the street people could pick one out of any crowd. Gibbs tried his best to look friendly and non-threatening. Nicky just ignored them.

"Can I help you, officer?" A priest called to them from the kitchen as they passed the window. Several of the men waiting for lunch looked around.

"He's with me," Nicky said, and kept moving. Gibbs smiled.

"No problems, Padre. Promise."

The priest nodded, but Gibbs felt the man's eyes on his back as they crossed the room to a large bulletin board. It was covered with dozens of multi-colored flyers and posters. There were announcements about upcoming events at the nearby church and in the neighborhood, self-help groups, help wanted ads, rooms for rent (cheap), and various items for sale.

"Here," Nicky said and pointed to a piece of white paper tacked to the lower corner of the board. In large black letters across the top of the flyer was the word 'Reward.' Gibbs pushed another ad out of the way and read the rest. 'For information about the murder of a U.S. Navy Sailor in an abandoned storage facility on Florida Avenue and First Northeast last Saturday night. All information kept in strict confidence. No names required. Call the Naval Criminal Investigative Service at...'

"So how come you didn't tell me there was a reward?" Nicky asked. "I mean, I came in because I wanted to do the right thing, but if you were going to pay money, I could always use it."

"It wasn't us, Nicky." Gibbs fished a pair of latex gloves out of his coat pocket and put them on, then pulled the notice off the board. The chances that whoever had put this up here had left fingerprints behind was small, but Abby had done some amazing things for them in the past.

"What do you mean, it wasn't you? It says NCIS, right there on the bottom," Nicky said and pointed to the flyer.

"It's not our number. We don't offer rewards this early in an investigation."

Nicky's eyes widened and he drew in a fast breath. "It was the Marines, wasn't it? They're looking for me, aren't they?"

Gibbs shrugged, his mind already past that to thoughts of how they could use it to their advantage. "Could be." He turned back toward the kitchen. The priest had come out and was watching them from a few feet away.

"Did you see who put up this notice?" Gibbs asked him, holding up the flyer.

"A young sailor came around yesterday afternoon, asked if he could put it up," the priest said with a strong Boston accent. "I didn't see any harm in it."

"Did he say why he wanted to put it here?"

"Sure. He said they were looking for a potential witness among my people." He shrugged. "As you know, officer, people on the street see much, and are often willing to tell what they know when treated with dignity and respect."

Gibbs nodded. He carefully folded the paper in quarters and slid it into his inside breast pocket. He stripped off the gloves and pulled out his ID.

"Gibbs, NCIS. The sailor who brought this in. Would you recognize him if you saw him again?"

The priest gave a 'maybe, maybe not' kind of shrug. "Perhaps. He was an average-looking sailor, wearing an overcoat. Can't say I caught his rank."

"Was he alone?"

"He came in alone."

"Do you know if he put these up anywhere else?"

He shook his head at that. "I don't get around much. There's too much to do here. I assume by your questions that there's some problem with the sailor?"

"He's not what he claims to be. If you see him, or any other members of the Navy in here in the next couple days, would you call me right away?" Gibbs took out his card.

"Certainly." He took the card and paused, looking at it. "Has this sailor brought trouble to my parish?"

"No. He's probably looking for my friend here," Gibbs said, gesturing to Nicky. Nicky's eyes widened under his mask. "He undoubtedly put these up all over D.C. Call me if you hear from him."

"Very well. Go with God," he said, and waved a blessing at Gibbs and Nicky. Gibbs nodded his thanks, and ushered Nicky outside.

"Well, I guess you're with me again, Nicky," Gibbs said. Nicky followed him to the sedan. Gibbs called the Navy Yard and talked to McGee. Mentally putting Nicky's warehouse at the center of a two-mile radius, he divided the area into rough thirds and sent both Ziva and McGee out to search as many homeless haunts as they could find for more of the flyers.

Gibbs and Nicky spent the next hour and a half wandering in the area Gibbs had assigned himself. They found another dozen of the flyers posted in soup kitchens, churches, hypothermia shelters, and the Rescue Mission. Gibbs used a plastic evidence bag from his trunk for each flyer, hoping they'd find something that would give them a lead on who'd been putting them out there. Unlike the DNA profiles of members of the Navy, fingerprint records were open to all. If they could get one good print off any of the flyers, Abby would match it.

Gibbs tried DiNozzo again three times while they were out. He got voicemail every time. He was on the verge of calling the NCIS office aboard and having him located, but held off. Fredrick would undoubtedly be curious and probably start asking DiNozzo questions he wasn't prepared to answer. The theory that Tony was just too deep in the ship to have reception was looking more plausible. That better be what it was.

He called the BX on the way back in. Gregor seemed pleased to hear that Nicky was once again available and told Gibbs to send him on over. After dropping him off, Gibbs took the stack of evidence bags and a Caf-Pow down to Abby.

"Hey, Gibbs, long time no see," Abby said after she'd lowered her music.

"Need you to print these," Gibbs said and handed her the bags and the cup.

"What are they?" she asked. She slapped the cup down on the counter and peered through the plastic at the top flyer.

"Someone's trying to help?" Abby asked after she read the flyer and before Gibbs could answer.

"Doubt it," Gibbs replied.

"Did you call the number?" she asked.

"Not yet."

"Where'd they come from?"

"Homeless haunts in D.C."

"They're looking for Nicky," Abby said. God, she was quick.

"That's my guess."

"Is he safe?"

"Yep."

"Good," she nodded in satisfaction.

"Had any luck with Ferrara's flash thingy yet?" Gibbs asked. Abby glared at him in fond exasperation.

"Flash thingy? Have I taught you nothing, Gibbs? It's a flash drive."

"Whatever. You get into it yet?" It felt good, Gibbs thought, to tease her a little. He missed it when they were caught up in a case.

"Not yet," she said with a frown. "I've tried everything I can think of, but it's just being stubborn."

"You tried a hammer?"

"Gibbs!" she cried in mock dismay.

"Works for me," he said, and started out. "Let me know…"

"If I get something," she cut him off. "Will do." He waved back at her as he left.

xoxoxoXOXOXoxoxox

DiNozzo came across the report on Goetz's assault two hours after lunch. He'd been working through the crime reports backwards from present day, and he knew he was approaching it. He thought he'd come up with a good plan on how to move this thing along, and by the time he found the file, he was ready. He hoped.

"What was this about?" he asked, and across the room, Fredrick looked up.

"What?"

"Master Chief Corpsman Ian Goetz? Unsolved assault?"

"Oh, that," Fredrick said. "Last spring, when we were in Greece. Someone tortured him." Fredrick shook his head. "Nasty business."

"No leads?" DiNozzo asked, flipping to the investigation summary page and not looking up.

"Nope. He didn't remember enough to give us anywhere to start. There were three DNA samples, but they got us nowhere." Fredrick shrugged. "Not much you can do without a lead."

"You work it alone?"

"No. The Resident Agent in Souda Bay and an agent from Force Protection Athens took the lead, along with the Hellenic Police – their feds. They ran the DNA through their criminal database, rounded up the usual suspects, put an ear to the ground to see if anyone was bragging about attacking a U.S. Sailor, searched what passes for the local pawn shops for his missing ring. Nada."

"What kind of ring was he wearing?" DiNozzo asked. He knew the answer, from the report he'd read before coming aboard, but he asked anyway. It would be expected.

"Master Chief Signet Ring. There's a picture of it in the file." DiNozzo flipped through the folder until he found it. It was a grainy blow-up of Goetz's left hand, the ring on his second finger. Clues in the spaces around his hand told DiNozzo the original picture had been taken while he was at a formal event: He was holding a glass of red wine and his cuff was the jacket of his dress whites. The ring stood out against his tanned skin and the darkness of the wine. It was heavy white and yellow gold, with four diamonds on each side of a replica of the Master Chief Petty Officer collar insignia. It was a very handsome ring, and DiNozzo wondered where Goetz had gotten it from.

"Good looking ring," DiNozzo said.

"It never turned up. Probably melted down soon after the attack."

"Hmm," DiNozzo said. He read the report until he came to the part about the 'One Less' note.

"Make any sense out of the note in his pocket?" he asked. Fredrick looked over his shoulder as DiNozzo held up a photocopy of the note. He shook his head.

"Nope. We floated a theory about the locals being upset by Naval presence in Crete. There'd been a few incidents the last time a ship docked, some sailors drunk and out of control. There was a feeling that the note was a commentary on one less sailor walking the streets." Frederick shrugged. "Didn't go anywhere."

"You know, that sounds familiar," DiNozzo said and made a show of thinking hard. "There was another unsolved… something I read from couple years ago…" He frowned, tapped his index finger on his front teeth, then looked up at Fredrick.

"Mind if I use your computer?" he asked.

"Knock yourself out," Fredrick said, and shrunk the word processing file he was working with to clear the screen. He let Tony take his place in front of the computer. DiNozzo started typing, doing a global search of open case files using the 'One Less' phrase. In less than a minute, he was looking at the list Abby had found of the four cases prior to Ferrara's where the note had been left.

"Well damn, check this out," he said, putting on his best 'surprised' voice. He turned to watch as Fredrick looked at the list of case names.

Either he was an Oscar-quality actor, or the list didn't mean anything to Fredrick. There was no flicker of recognition, no tensing of muscles showing he was hiding something, not even a purely physiological reaction of dilating pupils, increased respirations or sudden sweat.

"What is it?" he asked. DiNozzo gave him just a little more.

"Four unsolved assault cases in the last four years where the victim was found with a note in his pocket reading 'One Less'," he said, and waited.

Fredrick looked again. "That can't be right. I… I knew those men. All of them. Look out," he lightly shoved DiNozzo, who stood and got out of the way. Fredrick dropped into the chair and starting opening the computer files, one by one. In each, the search terms were highlighted, making finding the references easy.

There was shocked silence in the small room as Frederick scanned the reports.

"How the hell could I have missed this?" Fredrick asked. DiNozzo remained silent. "I mean, I knew they'd all been assaulted, but I didn't know…" He turned in his chair to look at Tony. "That's why you're here."

"You didn't know?" DiNozzo asked, sidestepping the question for the moment.

"I swear I didn't. The only one of these cases I had any direct involvement on was Lt. Brisbin. I did the initial interview with him when he returned to the ship. All the others were handled by the local agents. I just rubber-stamped the reports." He searched Tony's face. "I swear to God, I didn't know about the notes."

"How could you not?" DiNozzo asked quietly.

"Look." He snatched up the file DiNozzo had been looking at and opened it. "Master Chief Goetz was picked up on the street by the local ambulance, taken to a hospital in Crete. The resident agent interviewed him there, did all the evidence collection and shipped it to NCIS Europe. I never saw it. They sent me their report summary, which I signed and forwarded with his personal belongings to Ramstein."

He turned back to the computer and opened the file on Hutchinson's attack. He scanned the summary page. "I didn't work this one at all. We were home, in Norfolk. The locals picked him up, and Major Case worked it. My signature is on the report, but only because he was removed from duty and as Agent Afloat, I had to sign that I was aware of the criminal circumstances.

"And Major Ortiz. He never made it back here. We sailed before he was found. I did the missing persons investigation, but by the time he turned up, it was out of my hands. When the report showed up a week later, I signed it and sent it on. I don't spend much time reading old reports. Especially when they're not my problem anymore. When these sailors left the ship, they were out of my jurisdiction. Someone else was taking care of them and there was no more reason for me to be involved."

"So you didn't notice that all these cases went cold?" DiNozzo asked.

"They're not the only ones. Sailors getting into it with the locals in foreign ports isn't exactly unusual. We're there a couple days, then we move on. If a crime isn't solved while we're there, there's not a lot of follow-up. Unsolved cases are the rule, not the exception. We must leave at least 20 minor crimes unsolved every cruise we take."

"These aren't exactly minor," DiNozzo said.

Fredrick waved a hand in agitation. "I know. But they were just more of the same stupid stuff, you know? Drunks getting mugged? It happens all the time. All the time. It's why the Navy has a Shore Patrol. The severity of the injuries was unusual, but not unheard of. This battle group's got more than 7,000 men and women attached to it. People get stupid, people get hurt. All the time," he emphasized.

He turned back to DiNozzo again. "As for Lt. Brisbin, it was what, two years ago? You know how many assaults I've worked since them? Dozens. Maybe hundreds. Testosterone and American Navy pride are a wicked combination. Add in alcohol when we make port, and I'm surprised it doesn't happen more often. The case went cold, I never gave it another thought. And I certainly didn't connect it to any of the others."

DiNozzo knew there was one more thing he had to hit Fredrick with before he could look Gibbs in the eye and tell him Fredrick wasn't involved. He took a breath.

"Ferrara had one of the notes in his pocket, too," DiNozzo said.

Under his dark skin, Fredrick paled. His eyes widened, his mouth opened – he seemed about to say something – then snapped shut again. His shoulders sagged and his hands dropped into his lap. He looked at the screen, then up at DiNozzo.

"It's the same people, doing it to all of them, isn't it?" Fredrick asked. DiNozzo nodded.

"It's people from our carrier group," Fredrick said, then clarified. "People from this ship." Again, DiNozzo just nodded.

"And for some reason they targeted Ferrara, followed him when he left the ship on Saturday, and killed him."

"That's the theory," DiNozzo said.

Fredrick fell silent, taking measured breaths in and out of his nose, like a runner trying to get his breathing under control at the end of a race.

"Is it just those four, or have there been others?" he asked.

"We've identified 12 in the past seven years."

"Twelve?" Fredrick's voice was strangled. "The same skells beat 12 of my shipmates and I missed it? Did they all have the notes?"

"Only those four before Ferrara. The others were just unsolved assaults from this ship with common victim types."

Another period of silence. DiNozzo could see the wheels turning.

"Who's we?" he finally asked.

"What?" DiNozzo said. It wasn't what he'd expected Fredrick to ask.

"You said 'we've' identified 12. Who's we?"

DiNozzo stuck out his hand. "Anthony DiNozzo. Major Case. Nice to meet you."

Fredrick frowned and didn't take the hand. "Why are you here? And why'd you lie about your name?" DiNozzo let his hand drop.

"I work with Gibbs. If you were involved, we didn't want you checking up on me and finding that out."

"Involved?" Fredrick said, like the word was foreign to him. "You thought I was involved? In doing this? To my own men?"

"You didn't file the missing report on Ferrara. You're in the best position to have been covering up the connections between the attacks. And you were in the best position to raise the alarm when the series of unsolveds got large, but you didn't."

"I didn't know," Fredrick said again. He looked across the compartment, eyes at middle distance. "God, what have I done?"

DiNozzo let that hang for a minute. He figured Gibbs would want him to. He went to his own chair and sat down, watching Fredrick trying to get his mind around the situation.

"I did check up on you, on DiNardo," Fredrick finally said, his gaze not refocusing. "I knew this was no report audit. But your – his – personnel file was air tight. I couldn't for the life of me figure out what you were doing here. I'd pretty much settled on it just being Gibbs yanking my chain. They tell me that's just the kind of bastard he is. But then, you would know that."

"I've heard," DiNozzo said mildly. "And I'll be sure to congratulate Abby on her fine work with the personnel file."

"Abby Sciuto?" Fredrick said, frowning but still looking past him. "Forensics at the Navy Yard?" When DiNozzo nodded, he smiled. "I've heard she's a piece of work, too."

DiNozzo let that slide. Frederick kept staring past DiNozzo at the far wall.

Finally, he sighed. "So what do we do now?" Fredrick asked.

"Convince Gibbs it's not you, then figure out who it is."

That brought Fredrick's attention back to DiNozzo. "Wait a minute. If you thought it was me, how come you didn't rule me out with an alibi check? I don't always go ashore when we dock. Surely I've got an alibi for at least a few of the attacks?"

DiNozzo shrugged. "It's a conspiracy. Someone's pulling the strings. Someone's covering it up. You could have alibied out for every attack and still been involved."

Another pause and DiNozzo waited for what he knew had to be coming. It was one of the only questions left.

"What's the motive?" Fredrick asked. When DiNozzo didn't immediately answer, he elaborated. "Why would anyone want to attack and kill sailors from this carrier?"

"They're going after a specific victim type," DiNozzo said.

"What, Navy men on shore leave?"

"No. It's specific. Something besides the Roosevelt that all 12 men had in common."

"So what is it?" Fredrick asked. DiNozzo shook his head and made a motion of apology.

"Until Gibbs clears you, it's 'need to know.' You can probably figure it out on your own if you look hard enough. But I've got to call this in."

Tony pulled out the agency cell. He glanced at the screen. No service.

"I'm going topside. Take a look at the files, see what you find. I'll be right back."

As he passed through mid-decks, both of DiNozzo's cells beeped simultaneously. Service restored, then, messages waiting. Four messages on the agency cell. Damn, he hoped they weren't all from Gibbs. His own cell showed six missed calls. Damn again.

DiNozzo checked the agency cell first. Gibbs, Gibbs, and Gibbs twice more. Each with an increasing level of frustration in DiNozzo's failure to respond. DiNozzo was glad he had something to tell his Boss. It might get him a bit of a reprieve.

Gibbs answered on the second ring.

"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded.

"Having a very enlightening conversation with Fredrick. He's definitely not involved."

"You got proof?" Gibbs asked.

"Proof enough. Of the four assaults with the notes before Ferrara, he only actually worked Lt. Brisbin. He says he just signed off on the others and sent them on."

"You believe him?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes," DiNozzo said with all the confidence he would muster. "He had no idea. Apparently unsolved assaults in foreign ports aren't that out of the ordinary. The only thing unusual about our grouping was the level of violence. But since he wasn't working them, he never made any connection."

"What about Ferrara? Why didn't he report him missing?"

"He said earlier that there'd been something bothering Ferrara for awhile, that he wasn't happy. Fredrick said he honestly figured the kid just walked away."

"He have any theory on why he was unhappy?"

"Nothing specific. He said scuttlebutt had it he was tired of being a secretary. He also said Ferrara's orientation was known onboard."

"By who?" Gibbs asked.

"Apparently more than one person. I haven't asked yet. I can't really, without giving away the motive."

There was a pause. DiNozzo filled the silence.

"I want to bring him in, Gibbs. He's really wrecked over this. He knows the crew of this ship, knows who knows what. He's a good guy. I think he'd be able to help."

"DiNozzo, I did not send you over there to make friends," Gibbs said, exasperated.

"I know, Boss. But he's got insight it'd take me months to find. He's alright. Trust me," DiNozzo wheedled.

"If he screws up, I'm taking it out on you," Gibbs warned finally. DiNozzo grinned to himself.

"I'd expect nothing less."

"He's got to make peace with Capt. McNally before you bring him in. If the Skipper doesn't want him working on this, he's out. Got it?"

"Fair enough."

Gibbs moved on to what he'd been told about the danger Holbrook was in and why.

"I didn't tell him to do that," DiNozzo said when he was finished. "He said he wanted to help, I told him I'd get back to him."

"Apparently he decided on his own. Call him off, then keep an eye on him. They know now. We might as well take advantage of it," Gibbs said.

"You going to use him as bait?" DiNozzo asked, a little surprised.

"My source says they won't move on him until the next port. But if they're focused on him, they're not likely to go looking for another target. At least that way it's under control."

"Understood."

"Oh, and one more thing." Gibbs told him about the flyers Nicky had found.

"You're kidding me. They're pretending to be us?" DiNozzo said. "You call the number yet?"

"Not yet. I'll let you know. And DiNozzo?"

"Yes Boss?"

"Never be unreachable."

"Yes, Boss," DiNozzo said, but he was talking to dead air.

to be continued...

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