Disclaimer: I own nothing but the typos. If you recognize it, it isn't mine.
Author's Note: Sorry this one is short. Longer one tomorrow.
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Schuyler Harris works at the conference room table. His interview with Tim McGee leaves him reeling, trying to figure out just how he missed that the mild-mannered computer geek was the one to turn off the microphone. The fact is that it keeps bothering him, niggling and digging under his skin like a festering splinter.
To Harris, Tim isn't the type.
Too soft spoken and reserved, an agent who follows orders and doesn't question them. He didn't seem like the type of agent who would turn off a listening device without a good reason.
Harris scratches at his chin while he reviews his notes. He already sent an e-mail to the forensics department to request they look through Tim's computer tower and confirm his story. If there is a computer code on there that re-routes audio, they'll uncover it. He sends a follow-up e-mail requesting anyone with personal connections to Gibbs' team is not allowed on the case. He doubts anyone would tamper with his investigation, but he doesn't want to take the chance.
Now, Harris slides the laptop back across the table. He returns to take notes on his notepad. He leans forward while his pen scratches against the paper as he formulates his ideas into words. He knows he is more old-school than he likes to admit. His brain just makes connections easier as the words fill page after page.
When he reaches for his other notepad, his arm grazes the underside of the table. A sticky substance pulls at the sleeves of his suit jacket.
He mutters, "What the…"
Of course, he managed to get gum stuck to his suit jacket. He only brought a few because this was supposed to be a quick job. He rolls his eyes, sends the pen clattering across the table.
Who would stick gum underneath a conference table in a federal building?
When he removes his arm from under the table, he stares at the substance on his suit jacket. Bright blue is smeared across his arm. He touches it and while it looks like it might be chewing gum, the consistency is all wrong. It's far too sticky, the material is almost slimy.
"Putty?" he asks.
His face folds into a question as he leans under the table for a better look. Right there, just beside his seat, there is a small black device carefully nestled into a pile of bright blue putty. Carefully, he removes it from its holding. The putty stretches out behind it.
The device is black and made of plastic, no bigger than his thumb. It has a small red light with an antenna pointing from the side.
Someone bugged my conference room.
He considers leaving it function, but he can't find the kill switch. And that's the thing about bugs. The only way to ensure they're nonfunctional is to destroy them completely.
Harris drops it to the floor before crushing it under his heel. In his wake, there is a small blue splat and a pile of mechanical parts. He slides as many of the remains as he can into an evidence bag. Then, he heads out of the conference room. He locks the door when he leaves, just in case.
On his way to Director Vance's office, he passes Jethro Gibbs' area. This time, he pays the man no mind. If Gibbs wants to imagine blasting Harris' head to smithereens, let him. Harris has far more important things to worry about. Like who bugged his room and why.
He races up the stairs and rushes past Vance's secretary without even looking at her. She is on her feet, bolting around her desk to get in his way.
"The director can't be disturbed," she says.
"I need to talk to him," Harris says.
Words are pouring out of her mouth, but Harris isn't listening. He sidesteps around her, a quick and easy evasive move, before walking straight into the office. The secretary is still bleating behind him, desperately trying to tell him why he should stay where he is.
At his desk, Director Vance holds the phone receiver to his ear. When he notices Harris, he pulls an irritated face. Then, he shakes his head, frowning at Harris.
"I'll call you back," he mutters into the phone before hanging up. Then to Harris, he says: "It seems like all that time you've spent with Gibbs' team is rubbing off."
Harris has no idea what that could mean. Whatever it is, it isn't important right now. He crosses the room to deposit the evidence bag with the bug onto Vance's desk.
"Someone bugged my room," Harris says.
That catches Vance's attention. His eyebrows nearly disappear into his hairline as he turns the evidence bag over in his hands.
"There isn't much left of it," Vance says, looking disappointed.
Harris' mouth pulls down at the corner. "That's the only way I could think to disable it."
That makes Vance's face pinch. "And who do you think placed it?"
"Agent David," Harris says without hesitation. "I found the bug beside my chair. She was the only one who sat there during the interviews."
"Do you have any other proof?" Vance asks. "Other than, she stole your chair…"
Harris licks his lips. Makes a face. Looks away. Part of him wonders if he shouldn't have destroyed the bug, but if he left it alone, it might've still been turned on. It might have still been recording even if it looked like it had been disabled or deactivated. Destruction, in his mind, was the only way to ensure that it was completely and utterly broken.
Harris sighs, long and low. "No."
"What you're saying is that it could have been any of them," Vance says, almost smirking.
Harris stands at attention, raising his chin. He opens his mouth to explain his side, but Vance merely holds out his hand to silence Harris. He spent enough time in the Marines to know when to speak his mind and when to keep his mouth shut. This isn't an at ease situation.
"What part of the interviews were transmitted?" Vance asks.
Harris' good eyebrow furrows. "I don't know how long it was there. It could have been everything or just an interview. If it was Agent David – "
"Allegedly," Vance interrupts.
"Like I said, if it was Agent David – " it is Harris wants to say, but doesn't " – she would've heard everything from Agent McGee's interviews. Including how he re-routed the audio so she wouldn't find out. And how she told him to turn it off."
Vance leans forward, clearly interested. "Did he say why?"
Harris shakes his head. "No, not yet. I hope to get that information tomorrow. But I need to notify him that his interview was potentially compromised and – "
"No, you don't," Vance interrupts.
Harris' brow furrow deeper. "Sir?"
"You said yourself that they might have been working together. Let it play out. If they are working together, perhaps it will help things boil over. We can shut this down."
"And if they aren't?"
Vance's silence speaks for him as he passes the evidence bag back to Harris.
"Ask forensics to determine where the device may have come from." Vance narrows his eyes at the bag. "I doubt they'll get anything from it now, but it'll be worth a try. I'll contact security and have them sweep the room for any other bugs. I'd like you to hold off on your work until we've confirmed the room is clean."
Harris is slack-jawed. "But sir – "
"Stand down, Agent Harris. That's an order."