Chapter 9
A month went by and Theresa did not hear anything of Ari again. She did not feel bad of covering him or lying to anybody. Of course, her boyfriend knew the truth. He understood her. He loved her. Theresa still worked for this little organization now led by James Watson; she continued her work as a contract killer. A month and both of them have become closer. Theresa did not feel anything toward him. He was not like Ari, not that kind, not that smart, not that nice, but he was crueler and more violent.
Theresa lay in bad and looked outside the window. She watched the stars. She liked the view, space was infinite, the final frontier. She turned around and saw James sleeping. She imagined her stabbing him. It would be easy. She could overtake the organization. There were a few people who did not get along with James. Theresa completely understood this, he ran it differently than John. Theresa silently sighed. He was sleeping, sleeping was weak. Theresa finally stood up and walked to the window. She gazed at the stars. She wished she could be at home, with her boyfriend, with her sister. She missed her sister and hoped she could soon see her again.
Theresa did not kill him that night. She did not kill him the following night either. They had sex together and James thought that Theresa would love him. But Theresa just thought about her boyfriend and about Ari.
Two weeks later, there was another crime scene, as usual. A dead marine killed at home. Tony, Ziva and McGee arrived lately. Gibbs was already there. Tony started to make photos while Ducky and Mr. Palmer started occupying with the dead body which lay in the kitchen. McGee and Gibbs sat in the living room opposite to the marine's wife. She sobbed and cried. 'Do you have any idea who wanted your husband dead?', McGee asked. 'There were a lot', she said. 'He was occupying with a group of young marines who made problems in the past. Some of them were very difficult.' The woman was a marine, too. 'So, you think one of them would have killed him?', McGee asked. Gibbs was unusually quiet. The woman nodded. 'Some of them hated him. Threatened him. Some of them were kicked out of the marine troop. They are difficult kids.' 'So you have been married to your man for…?', McGee asked. He wondered why Gibbs did not say anything. 'Twenty years', she replied. 'Do you have children?', he asked. She breathed heavily. Finally she said: 'Yes. Two sons, eighteen and nineteen.' She remained silent for a while. 'And two girls. But…I set them out on the street when they were three. I don't know…We had no money…I'm so sorry…', she lost her voice and cried again. McGee looked at her. 'Do you have contact to them?', he asked. 'No. Never saw them again. They must be sixteen by now.' 'So you and your husband have four children?' 'The two boys are in Afghanistan now. They are his sons. I am not sure about the girls', she said slowly. She looked at Gibbs. McGee looked at Gibbs, too.
'Boss?', he asked. 'You did not tell me you were married', Gibbs finally told the woman. She did not reply. 'Are the two girls from me?', he asked her. She did not say anything. 'I did a pregnancy test the following day', she said. 'It was positive. I think the twins are from you.'
'No match until yet', Abby said when Gibbs entered her lab. 'Neither in the dead marine case nor in the alive marine case, well former marine.' 'Abbs', Gibbs said and put a Caf-Pow in front of her on the table. 'I matched the bullet. It was this gun', she put the picture of a gun on the screen. 'And such a gun is possessed by Marine Phil Pans, one of the marines that Joe Palmer used to train.' Joe Palmer was the dead marine and Maria Palmer was the wife who betrayed him with Gibbs. 'Thanks, Abbs', he said and wanted to go when the ringing noise of a found match sounded. 'Found something', Abby said. She put two pictures on the big plasma screen. Gibbs got nearer to the TV. 'Verena and Lucy Palmer', Abby read. Two young black-haired girls appeared on the screen. 'Where did you find them?', he asked. 'FBI data bank.' 'Why are they in there? Got problems?' 'No, there is nothing about them. Just their names, their age, 16 and their nationality, German.' Gibbs went off. He knew the faces. At least one of them he had seen before. And he knew where.
It was late night. Theresa was sad. James and her had carried on their relationship. She hated him. First, it has been okay. They had kissed, they had sex. Sex with him was boring. Then he said she would have gotten too bad for her. He started to hit her after sex, saying she was too bad for him. He started to hit her before sex. He started to beat her when he was bored. He once knocked her out without any reason. One time she had ended up in hospital with a partial bone fracture of her clavicle. Her boyfriend could not do anything. Fornell forbid her meeting him because it would be too risky during her mission. Theresa had enough. She got permission from Fornell now. She was going to do it.
Theresa and James stood at the steel banister and looked down at the river. In the past few weeks James has let a few marines killed and became a thorn in Gibbs' eye. They hated each other. It was night and there was barely light. 'Let's go', James said and turned around. Theresa positioned herself in front of him. 'Let us stay a bit', she smiled. He kissed her. 'Let's go home and have sex', he said. He wanted to step forwards. She stopped him. 'I want to tell you something', she said. 'Go on.' 'Well, I do hate you', she expected an emotion of him. He blinked. A sign of getting confused. 'I am not who you think I am', she continued. 'I am working for Federal Bureau of Intelligence', she said and stabbed her knife deeply in his belly. It was easy to do so, there were no bones. She looked into his face. It got the emotions of fear, surprise and shock all at once. He stared at her. He did not believe this. 'You are a completely selfish, cruel, violent and annoying and idiotic asshole and I am just relieving the world from a plague like you', she smiled. 'Good-bye', she said and pulled the knife, she had about ten centimeters in his flesh, out of his body. The wound bled heavily. The blood dripped from her knife. She stripped it off of his clothes and when it was clean again, she put it back into her leather jacket. 'I completely disrespect you, you son of a bitch', she said and watched him slowly falling down to the floor. 'Theresa', he murmured. 'That is not even my real name', she said. No murder felt good. No murder was justified. But somehow it relieved her. Now she could take over his organization and give every single information to Fornell. She hoped he would move fast and not let her carry on that position for a long time.
Theresa did not know that she has been watched killing James Watson, the leader of the underworld organization which organized and controlled nearly every illegal business in and around Washington DC. The man who had watched her drove away on his black motorcycle. He wore a black leather trousers, a yellow leather jacket and a yellow helmet. He loved Theresa.