One Less - Part 47
by joykatleen
It took the medics and the ship's doctor just over an hour to stabilize the damage caused by Gibbs' bullet. As Gibbs had predicted, it had entered to the right of Thayer's kneecap on a downward trajectory, tearing through ligaments, shredding muscle and shattering bone before losing momentum and stopping just before it would have exited out the back, several inches below his knee. The doctor removed the bullet and cleaned and dressed the wounds. Thayer would need reconstructive surgery to finish the job, but Gibbs figured that could wait. If it was good enough for Gibbs, it was good enough for that wolf in sheep's clothing.
As for Gibbs himself, the news was not good. After being carried down to the infirmary by a pair of litter-bearers, he'd allowed the doctor to examine the knee. The doctor removed the brace and carefully dragged up Gibbs' loose chinos. The pain immediately lessened as his knee relaxed into a slightly bent position. The pressure had been the source of much of the pain. New bruising had appeared over the lightening line of it from the week before, and there was more around behind his knee.
The doctor wanted to give him an x-ray, maybe an MRI, but Gibbs declined. He had surgery scheduled in three days, he informed the doctor. That, and the fact that the ship was only a few hours from departing for the Middle East, made the doctor agree to let him go without. Instead, he gave Gibbs a shot that almost instantly dulled the pain to an easily manageable level. He then changed the straight brace for one with a hinge on each side of the knee which he applied directly to Gibbs' skin. The doctor locked the hinges at an angle that matched the one his knee was resting in and told Gibbs not to put any weight on it. Period. He also told him not to take it off until he'd seen a doctor. Last, he gave him a new bottle of pain killers. Narcotics this time. Which was just as well. The pain had been significant.
While Gibbs was being examined, DiNozzo and Fredrick searched the priest's quarters, his office, and the chapel. They gathered up everything that wasn't ship's property to bring back to D.C. Their case was solid. Didn't mean they couldn't use more evidence, if they found it.
They arranged to have Thayer flown to Bethesda for follow-up treatment. Naval Hospital Jacksonville was only a few miles from the ship and could have easily handled the surgery, but Gibbs wanted to get all of them back on home turf as soon as possible. He only needed permission from the priest's commanding officer to make the transfer, and Capt. McNally was more than happy to oblige them. Gibbs sent a pair of shore-based MPs to escort him on the next available flight out of the air station.
That done, the agents prepared to go home. They met with the Captain for the last time in his office.
"Thank you," McNally said as he offered them drinks. All three agents declined. McNally put the bottle back unopened and took a seat behind his desk.
"I appreciate you ridding my ship of that..." He stopped.
"It was our pleasure," Gibbs said.
"And thank you for not killing him. It would have been too easy."
Gibbs nodded.
"What will happen to him now?" McNally asked.
"He'll be charged with murder, conspiracy, aggravated assault, assault with a deadly weapon, and anything else we can throw at him for his show today," DiNozzo said.
"Will he be convicted?"
"Yes," Gibbs said with confidence.
"So Frank will be avenged," McNally said.
"He will."
"And the others, too?"
"And the others," Gibbs agreed. "He'll pay for all of it."
"Did you get all the men involved?"
"Most of them," DiNozzo said. They'd gotten a report from Ziva and McGee while they were searching the priest's rack. Two of the 15 hadn't been where they were supposed to be when the arrest teams showed up. They were actively being sought. They'd turn up eventually.
"So that's it?" McNally asked.
"We may need a statement from you at some point, but otherwise, that's it," DiNozzo said.
"Certainly. Anything I can do." McNally paused. "Do you know why he was doing it? What started it?"
Fredrick looked at Gibbs, who nodded.
"He told me he was on a mission from God," Fredrick said and there was a small snorting laugh from DiNozzo that made all three men turn to look at him.
"Sorry," Tony said with a wave of his hand. Gibbs' eyes narrowed and DiNozzo shook his head slightly in apology. Fredrick continued.
"He said that God told him to do it as his penance, after he was led into temptation by a former mentor. I'm not sure what he meant by that."
"Do you remember the disappearance of a Chaplain Commander during the Ironman Cruise?" Gibbs said suddenly.
McNally nodded. "Of course. It's in the ship's log. And I remember hearing about it at the time. He was presumed lost at sea?"
"I think that's the mentor Thayer was talking about. I think Thayer might have had something to do with his death."
"Why?" McNally asked, and both DiNozzo and Fredrick looked at him strangely.
"The timing fits with the start of Thayer's 'mission.' When Fredrick talked to him last night, he said God told him he had to remove himself from his mentor's evil influence. They'd been at sea for almost 100 days, with no end in sight. There really wasn't any way to get away from him."
"So you think Cmdr. Thayer killed his supervisor? What, pushed him overboard?" McNally asked. They could all hear his disbelief. "He's a priest. A man of God. How could he justify that?"
Gibbs shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know how he could justify any of this. But you can be sure I'm going to ask him about it."
McNally considered that for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was resigned. "I don't envy you, Agent Gibbs. But I appreciate what you've done for my men. And for me, too. Let me know when you need me to make a statement." He stood, then continued.
"I gotta tell you: I'm going to be glad to sail off and leave this mess behind," McNally said. "Agent Fredrick, we're scheduled to shove off in... less than two hours. Will you be joining us, or do I need to ruin some other agent's week?"
Fredrick again checked with Gibbs. "He'll be ready," Gibbs said.
"Good. You'll escort these agents off ship before then?" McNally asked Fredrick.
"Yes sir," Fredrick said.
"Thank you. Good luck, gentlemen."
The agents' return flight from Jacksonville put them back in D.C. just past 9 p.m. DiNozzo drove straight to Bethesda to check on Thayer, who had left Florida hours before them. Thayer was there, on suicide watch in a secure ward. The MPs reported Thayer had been given some heavy pain killers for the trip and hadn't said more than please, thank-you, yes sir and no sir since they'd picked him up. Oh, and he'd been praying, they reported. Almost constantly. Good luck with that, Gibbs thought.
The intake doctor had examined Thayer's injury and decided the ship's physician had done a fine job of cleaning and prepping the wound. There was nothing about it that couldn't wait for regular surgical hours on Monday to repair. In the meantime, he'd be on enough pain killers to keep his lawyer from claiming cruel and unusual punishment, but not enough to let him claim diminished capacity during an interview. It was a fine line, but one the doctors in the secure unit walked well.
After the hospital, it was a quick stop at the Navy Yard to secure Thayer's belongings, then home. Dinner on the plane had been light, but it was enough. Gibbs was tired and hurting. The shot the doctor had given him had worn off before they left Jacksonville, but he hadn't taken any of the narcotics. He wanted to be horizontal before he took the heavy stuff. He needed a good night's sleep before interrogating Thayer tomorrow, and he figured the pain killers would help with that, but only if he took them then went straight to bed. He called McGee and David and told them to meet at the Navy Yard at 10 a.m. and had DiNozzo take him home.
Lying on the couch after DiNozzo left him, Gibbs waited for the drugs to do their work and thought ahead to the next day. This would be Gibbs' first conversation with the priest since the day they'd caught the case. He didn't really need anything more out of him: The confession to Fredrick had certainly sealed Thayer's fate. But Gibbs was of the belief that they could never have too much evidence. If the earlier confession was for some reason to be declared improper or otherwise inadmissible in court, having another one would come in handy.
There were also a few other things Gibbs wanted to get out of Thayer before he washed his hands of him. His involvement in the death of his former CO, for one. The role he'd played in Major Ortiz's attack. Exactly why he'd gone back into Dubai that night, and what he'd done if and when he'd found Ortiz.
Which led to his last thought before sleep claimed him: how far had Ducky gotten in arranging internment for the Major's remains?
Over the years, Gibbs had learned that his best laid plans often hinged on the cooperation of others. His plan for a solid night's sleep was interrupted while it was still dark by the ringing of his cell. Gibbs groggily rolled over to get it and fell off the couch. He cursed as his elbow and then his bad knee hit the coffee table. From the floor, he snatched the phone off the table and snapped it open.
"What?" he growled. There was a moment of silence.
"Gibbs?" a voice he didn't immediately recognize.
"What?" Gibbs said again.
"It's Ian Goetz," the voice came back. Gibbs sat up and rubbed his elbow with his free hand. He took a breath and shook his head slightly to try and clear the cobwebs.
"Gibbs?" Goetz said again.
"What can I do for you, Master Chief?" he said finally.
"Is it true?"
"What?" Gibbs asked.
"Did you arrest him?"
"Thayer?"
"Yes."
"Yes," Gibbs said. He leaned sideways against the front of the couch. News sure as hell traveled fast in this town. He rubbed his eyes in the dark.
"Did he confess?" Goetz asked.
"Yes."
"To all of it?"
"To enough of it."
"Did he say why? What started it?"
"Indirectly," Gibbs said, and yawned big.
"What does that mean?"
"It's the middle of the night. Okay if we talk about this sometime after sunup?" Gibbs said. There was a sigh from the other end.
"Okay. I'll call you in the morning."
"It is morning," Gibbs said. He was about to hang up when something occurred to him. "How'd you find out about Thayer's arrest?" he asked.
"Lewiston called me."
"What?" Gibbs said. He certainly hadn't expected that. "When?"
"About twenty minutes ago."
"Why?" Gibbs asked.
"To ask me if Thayer was really under arrest. And to apologize."
"To apologize," Gibbs repeated.
"He said he'd had a lot of time to think, and he wanted to apologize for what they did to me. He said it didn't really sink in until they killed Ferrara, that what they were doing couldn't be right."
"What else did he say?"
"He said they all got so caught up in the mission, in the idea of saving the navy from evil, that he forgot real people were getting hurt. He asked me to forgive him."
"Will you?" Gibbs asked.
"I don't know. I suppose I have to. Otherwise, it's my sin."
Gibbs let that sit for a minute. "I need you to do something," he said finally.
"What?"
"Right now, while it's fresh, write down as much of the conversation as you can remember. Word for word. It might be useful."
"Alright. But I want something in return."
"What?"
"Have you interrogated Thayer yet?" Goetz asked.
"No," Gibbs said.
"Good. I want to be there."
"Where?"
"When you interrogate him. I want to be there."
"No," was Gibbs' instant response.
"Why not?" Goetz asked. For the life of him, Gibbs could think of no reason other than 'because I said so.' That would be good enough for anyone on his team. He figured it wouldn't fly with Goetz.
"I'll think about it," Gibbs said. "After I wake up."
"You'll call me before you start?"
"I'll call you later," Gibbs said.
"Before you start the interrogation?" Goetz insisted.
"You're pushing it, Chief. I said I'd think about it." With that, Gibbs disconnected.
He glanced at the phone's screen, then held it out at arms' length. It was 2:45. No wonder he was so groggy. Gibbs had taken the pain meds only three and a half hours ago. Gibbs closed the phone and set it on the table, then considered his situation. Down between the table and the couch with one knee locked at an angle, it was going to be a challenge to get back up onto the couch. To say nothing of getting back to his feet. He could feel a slight buzzing in his head, like fluorescent lights, and even in the dark the edges of his vision were fuzzy. The idea of balancing on his good leg to move anywhere was a bad one.
With a sigh, Gibbs reached up onto the couch and dragged down the pillow he'd been using. He pushed it under his head, squirmed a little to get comfortable, and closed his eyes again. He was asleep in minutes.
to be continued... guess when?