Hi Tim,

Glad you liked the T-shirt. Good hint about how much the McSqueeze liked it … one is winging its way to her as I write. Don't worry about it being the right size – remember I'm a crime scene sketch expert. Working out a woman's size is what I do, and it's always a pleasure. In a purely job satisfaction, professional sort of way of course. I don't want to suggest that the DiNozzo gaze ever weighs Delilah up in anything other than a professional and platonic way. Whatever; I guarantee that the T-shirt will fit.

Sorry to hear about the all night stake out. In the rain. And the wind. I think that was probably the day I went to the Embassy party. Well, one of them. Turns out that these diplomats really know how to party. If I was a McNovelist like you, I'd find a lot of material for some hard-hitting biting social commentary but it turns out I'm just a social butterfly so I'm just going along for the ride. And it's stopped raining too. Guess the bad weather has moved to DC!

Hope you like this post card. It's the view from the top of the London Eye. Did you know it's nearly 450 feet high? Great view over London. Moves very slowly but, of course, once you're on for the ride you're stuck with it … you know, trapped in this glass capsule hundreds of feet in the air. You'd love it. Or not.

Don't let Gibbs bully you. You're allowed one meal break a day and entitled to at least three hours' sleep. And that protective gear is there to be used not looked at. Remember what I said, I want you to be in perfect condition when I get back. Well, as perfect as the Mcbody can be. You know what I mean.

I'm picking up the local argot so 'Cheerio'.

Temporarily re-assigned Special Agent Tony.

Tim smiled as he got to the end of the latest communication from Tony although he winced when he looked at the vista on the enormous post card. He peered closer when he saw that Tony had added something in tiny letters. PS: tell TD that I'm going to a boxing match tomorrow.

"Pigeon post made it from England?" asked Gibbs as he walked into the office carrying his first coffee of the day.

Tim was always flummoxed when Gibbs made a joke and it was especially rare for him to make one so early in the day.

"Er?" he said, "no, I think Tony's sending his stuff through Diplomatic channels."

Gibbs sighed at this waste of his humour but decided to cut his losses, "what's he sent?"

"Post cards," said McGee pointing to a heap on his desk, "who's TD?" he asked.

"The Director," said the Director also making his first appearance of the day.

"Oh," said McGee, "Oh. Oh, well, Tony's sent you a message, Director."

"And?" pressed Vance whose mood didn't seem to be matching that of the almost cheerful Gibbs.

"Right. Um, well, he says to tell TD, to tell you, that he's going to a boxing match tomorrow."

Gibbs and McGee waited to see what the Director would make of this. Tim hoped he wouldn't complain that Tony seemed to be having a great time and Gibbs was simply collecting information.

"Good," said Vance briefly and left in search of the coffee he knew his secretary would have waiting for him.

"I hear something has arrived from Anthony," said Ducky whose mail room contact was as reliable as ever.

"Yes," said McGee, "a post card for you."

"How thoughtful," said Ducky, and he began to read it to himself. "Hmm," he said after a few moments, "it seems that Anthony has been to a cricket match. His Uncle Charles is a member of the MCC." He looked up and saw the blank faces of Gibbs and McGee. He spotted a chance to instruct. "The MCC is the Marylebone Cricket Club and is based at Lords cricket ground." The faces still looked blank, "you remember Admiral Sir Charles Smithson, don't you? And his most charming wife, Lady Caroline?"

"Sure," said Gibbs, "just having trouble picturing DiNozzo at a cricket match."

"Indeed," said Ducky heavily, "I fear I may need to give him some instruction on his return. He does not seem to understand the significance of a googly and is sadly muddled about the distinction between silly mid-on and silly point."

Gibbs was still in a good mood and tutted sympathetically. Ducky might have explained the finer points of cricket fielding placements but, at that moment, they heard the sound of running feet coming closer. It was Abby who had also been tipped off by the mail room.

She was breathless by the time she reached Tim's desk so McGee just handed her the post card.

"Cool," she said, "Tony's been to the London Dungeon. Ooh, he's been to something called the Plague Doctor."

"Is he unwell?" asked Ducky anxiously.

"No, Ducky," said Abby kindly, "it's one of the events they have on there. Tells you what it was like in London when the Black Death was at its height."

"How extraordinary," said Ducky, "well, I suppose Anthony might be able to give them some first-hand information and could tell them if their scenarios were inaccurate. Timothy, is there a missive for Mr Palmer? I will deliver it to him."

McGee handed the 'missive' to Ducky, "oh, it looks as if Tony has taken a photo outside the London School of Embalming. Great."

Abby and Ducky went back to work clutching their post cards and Gibbs looked expectantly at Tim.

"Oh, yes, of course," stammered Tim, "I forgot. Here's one for you, Boss. It's got a picture of …"

"I can see what it's got," said Gibbs curtly. The good mood seemed to be evaporating. He put his glasses on and began to read,

Hey, Boss.

Went to Greenwich yesterday. Saw the Cutty Sark. Nineteenth century wooden tea clipper. You'd have liked it. Even if it did carry tea and not coffee. Would be a bit big for your basement.

Ran two miles yesterday. Went to see the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. Those guys can march.

Semper Fi

Tony.

Gibbs nodded in approval. DiNozzo's report writing was the best in the team. Short and to the point. His good humour was restored.

"Going for coffee," he announced, "not tea."

Tim nodded despite his confusion.