Got a couple of short chapters for you tonight. :)
Chapter Fourteen
February 5, 2011 – 3:58am
NCIS Computer Security would have been appalled at the ease with which Jimmy Palmer, the Autopsy Gremlin, was able to log into Tony's computer. Of course, Security didn't know about Jimmy's alter ego, Black Lung. They also didn't realize that their stringent password criteria were actually counter-productive. Passwords had to be between eight and twenty characters long, contain at least one uppercase and one lowercase letter, one number, and one symbol. They had to be changed once a month, passwords could not be reused within a 24-month period, and passwords that were too similar to a previous password were not acceptable. Sure, maybe McGee and the Cybercrimes agents could keep all that straight, but most people had trouble coming up with more than a handful of unique passwords that fit all of those requirements. Hence the need to write them down and keep them handy – completely counter to security rules, but sometimes one had to break the rules in order to get anything accomplished.
Jimmy found Tony's password on a sticky note attached to a page inside his page-a-day Classic Horror Films Trivia calendar. He had to smile just a little when he realized that Tony had chosen Jimmy's birthday to stick it to. The film in question for that day was The Birds, which Jimmy had never seen. He would have to remember to request a viewing for his birthday; he was sure it would make Tony smile.
He typed the password in with his left hand, grateful that at least Sacks had left him with that much mobility. He was certainly glad that his activities on this night had kept him too busy to get anything to eat or drink, because the arrogant FBI agent hadn't even asked if he needed to use the restroom before they left him. Then again, Sacks hated Tony as much as Tony despised him; he probably hoped that Jimmy would lose control of his bladder while cuffed to Tony's desk.
That's enough. Let it go. Focus on the task at hand.
The first thing that Jimmy did was pull up the ZNN website. If anything went wrong, he'd find out here first. He wished he could access the plasma as a second monitor, but he had no idea how the agents did that. As far as he knew, it was technomagic.
Next, he pulled up another browser window and used it to Google the Freedom for America Foundation. Tony had said that they put their claims up on the internet, which meant that even Jimmy ought to be able to find out something about their objectives.
For the next half hour, Jimmy read through the FFAF's poorly designed and even more poorly written website. He found articles mentioning the group in local Michigan newspapers. He Googled the names he could remember as well – Carl Richards, Carl Howard, and Ronald Garrett. He wasn't sure how much use any of this would be, but it gave him something to focus on other than the clocks on the wall.
He read that the FFAF wanted to basically shut down the federal government, by any means necessary, because the government collected taxes from its citizens and taxes were, of course, an infringement of its citizens' rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, guaranteed in the Constitution. It was the Declaration of Independence, you idiots. And if there's no government, who enforces the Constitution, anyway?
The FFAF also thought that the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq were badly handled by both the Bush and Obama administrations. The U.S. shouldn't be looking to pull out; it should jump in with both feet and show those Arab terrorists who's boss. Jimmy wondered just how the FFAF thought the U.S. should pay for those wars, since not only were they against taxes, they were against any federal debt, too.
He read on, about the FFAF's view of immigration – 'America should be preserved for Americans, not just anyone who wants to come here and take our jobs and our land,' as if most Americans weren't descended from immigrants who came to North America from elsewhere. Regarding the war on drugs, the FFAF thought that the government ought to do more to keep drug dealers – who were all illegal immigrants, of course – in prison and off the streets, as if both drug enforcement and prisons didn't cost money that would have to be obtained by taxing its citizens or increasing the federal debt.
The site's 'Current Events' page contained an article on the appointment of the new Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. Apparently, the FFAF thought that the new guy was going to hand America over to al Qaeda on a silver platter, and were advocating for someone with 'the balls to show those Arabs we mean business.'
Jimmy rolled his eyes. It's like these guys are three years old, he thought. They want what they want, and if you tell them that it's impossible to get everything they want, they throw a tantrum.
Every few minutes, Jimmy switched to the ZNN window and refreshed the page. So far, so good…
But in the end, it wasn't the ZNN website after all that gave him his first hint of trouble. He'd been searching a Detroit news site for articles concerning any other Midwestern militia groups – he supposed it was possible that such groups might band together for a common purpose, although it was more likely that their leaders were too egotistical to share their power with another. After finishing yet another marginally useful article, Jimmy clicked the link back to the site's home page –
Breaking News: Explosion in D.C. Suburb Damages Interstate Highway Overpass. The headline was in bold red letters at the top of the page, catching Jimmy's attention instantly, just as it was designed to do.
What? Jimmy's head whipped around to check the clock. But they should have at least another half hour!
He attempted to click on the headline, but it was text only, not a link. At this point, they probably didn't have any more to report than exactly what the headline said. Jimmy flipped back to the ZNN site and refreshed the page, but it didn't even have a news alert posted yet.
Maybe they weren't there yet… no, that's ridiculous, it doesn't take that long to get from here to there. Maybe they had to go get the ATF team first. Maybe Gibbs had to stop for coffee. Maybe…
Jimmy shook his head. Speculation was useless at this point. Until the news sites updated, he wouldn't know anything.
Concentrate on the facts. Up until I got here, both the terrorists and the team were on their original timelines. Then I told them where to go, probably – almost definitely – earlier than they would have found out themselves. So they got there early –
"But they knew about the doors!" Jimmy exclaimed out loud, slamming his free hand down on the desk. "And it was too early for the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs to be driving by. So what the hell happened? What set it off?"
You never heard them call the ATF. You never heard them call for a bomb disposal squad. Jimmy froze as the implications hit him. Tony still gives Ziva grief about that bomb that she disarmed herself instead of trying to escape. She really scared the crap out of him. And then there's Gibbs. His approach to technology he doesn't understand – and that's pretty much all of it – is to bang on it until it starts working or shoot it until it stops. What if…?
No. He wasn't going to go there. He was going to wait for the facts. Or…
Jimmy reached for Tony's phone. Cradling the receiver between his shoulder and his ear, he dialed Tony's cell number from memory. Of the entire MCRT, Tony's was the only number he knew by heart. That was why he was calling Tony, Jimmy told himself. It wasn't just because he needed, really needed, to hear his lover's voice…
The call went straight to voicemail.
"Hi, you've reached Special Agent Tony DiNozzo. Leave a message at the beep."
"Tony –" Jimmy's voice broke, and he had to swallow and start again. "Tony, it's Jimmy. Please call me as soon as you can. I'm" – he gave a strangled laugh – "I'm still here. Just call your desk." He hesitated for a moment, fingers gripping the phone tight, and then decided that if Tony was dead, he didn't care who else might hear this message. "I love you," he choked out, and then he hung up the phone.
The time crawled for Jimmy. He hit the refresh button on the browser windows more than a dozen times before any of the news sites managed to post an update that had anything more than 'there was an explosion, we'll tell you more soon.' But finally, ZNN had an actual update. Jimmy held his breath as he clicked the link and began to read.
"An explosion at the Art Jones Building in Rothstown, Virginia has damaged part of the I-66 overpass… possible terrorist attack… number of casualties unknown… agents from the FBI and the Naval Criminal Investigative Service (NCIS) believed to be in the building at the time of the explosion…"
"Oh, God," Jimmy whispered, tears blurring his vision. "Please, not again…"
He buried his face in the crook of his left arm, struggling to control his emotions. If this was really it, if this was his last chance to avert disaster, then he had failed miserably; but if he could just have another chance…
Please… I don't know why this is happening, but please… please let me try again. I would give anything, I will do whatever it takes, just please… please don't let them die. Please…
Jimmy lifted his head, swallowing past the lump in his throat, and wiped the tears away with a shaking hand. If this was really happening, if this was the reality he was stuck with, then he no longer cared about the consequences of his actions tonight. But if he somehow managed to get another chance to save Tony and the team – his friends – then he needed to be prepared.
Tonight didn't work. For whatever reason, telling them about the bombs still didn't keep them from setting them off. So tomorrow – if there is a tomorrow where this hasn't happened yet – I need to do something different. I just need to figure out what.
Jimmy started to reach for a pen, but was brought up short by the handcuffs. He growled in frustration. I can't write worth a damn left-handed, but I can't keep all this straight in my head, either. What can I use…?
A moment later, he had it. He pulled up a spreadsheet program on Tony's computer, and spent a moment looking at its orderly rows and columns, waiting for data.
I can put the times down the left-hand column, and then create a column for each of the three nights, and plot out what happened when…
Jimmy started with 12:00 and went down the column, filling in the time in 15-minute increments until…
I haven't seen the sun rise since Friday… I mean Friday three days ago. It was getting lighter, but both nights I passed out sometime before the actual sunrise. So hypothetically speaking, if I can make it til sunrise with everyone still alive…
He didn't know, of course, that preventing the team's deaths was the reason for the time loop. For all he knew, the loop would continue until he chose the right slice of pizza to give to Tony when he left for the night. That said, he was going to do whatever it took to keep Tony and the others safe… and to be on the safe side, he was going to stick with the same slice of pizza, just in case.
He switched back to the browser window to Google "time of dawn February 5, 2011," thinking he'd get an easy answer. But it wasn't so simple. He chose an official-looking site out of the search results and found himself looking at a chart with three different times for dawn, and a fourth time for when the sun actually rose.
Switching to Wikipedia, he searched for the definitions of the different 'dawns' listed on the chart.
Astronomical Dawn – the moment after which the sky is no longer completely dark; formally defined as the time at which the sun is 18 degrees below the horizon in the morning.
Nautical Dawn – the time at which there is enough sunlight for the horizon and some objects to be distinguishable; formally, when the sun is 12 degrees below the horizon in the morning.
Civil Dawn – that time at which there is enough light for objects to be distinguishable, so that outdoor activities can commence; formally, when the sun is 6 degrees below the horizon in the morning.
Jimmy sighed. Well, who could tell the difference just by looking?
Gibbs, probably. We lowly mortals, not so much.
At least he had a definite ending time for his timeline – as far as he knew, sunrise never happened in the time loop. And even if it did… If I don't get this right, what happens at sunrise won't matter anyway, because they'll already be dead.
Once he had the timeline finished, he leaned back in Tony's chair as far as the handcuffs would allow, biting the knuckles of his left hand as he considered what he knew.
Let's see… the first night, it hit the news around five o'clock. They must have taken a few minutes to verify what was going on before they went live, but not too long, since they didn't have cameras on-scene yet, just that traffic helicopter. So… best guess is that the explosion must have occurred around 4:45-ish, give or take…
Typing slowly with just one hand, Jimmy filled in the events of the last three nights in their appropriate time slots. When he finally had everything filled in, he created a fourth column so he could plan for tomorrow – or tonight again, rather –
God, I hope so. If tomorrow really is tomorrow… He pushed that thought aside and kept working.
Some time later, Jimmy pulled off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. He was starting to get one hell of a headache. Eye strain, probably. He sighed and sat back, leaving his glasses on the desk. He'd done as much as he could manage from his rather inconvenient position. He'd plotted, planned, and now all he could do was wait to see if the sun would rise…
Jimmy closed his eyes and hoped for darkness.