NCIS Headquarters, two hours later.
The elevator dinged, and Tony and Ziva stepped out. Making their way over to McGee’s desk, Tony took great pleasure in dropping the box he was carrying loudly onto the pile of files there. “Here you go, Probie,” he said cheerfully but with a certain evil glint in his eye, “Every single camera or CCTV record for this morning for that stretch of road. Every 7-11, every little donut shop, and every single traffic camera. You’ll be in heaven.”
McGee just frowned and regarded the box with no joy at all. “Thank you very much, Tony,” he said flatly.
Ziva looked at McGee consideringly. “Are you feeling alright, McGee?”
Tim shuddered. “No,” he said, quickly glancing around the office and lowering his voice, “Abby is not exactly happy after what happened to us this morning.”
“That is.... not good.”
“’Not good for the people in question’ is what I assume you are trying to say,” came a voice from over by Tony’s desk. Without even turning around, Tony could just visualise the look on Gibbs’s face right now. Time to face the music.
He straightened up, turned round and grinned fixedly. Oh crap – Gibbs’s expression was even more unhappy than he’d thought. “Hey boss, just getting the last of the files to Probie here.” And then, because sometimes his tongue was determined to get him killed, “So, how was your day?”
Ziva moaned softly in disbelief besides him, and stepped back a couple of feet.
Gibbs’s face became like stone. “Focus on the case, DiNozzo,” he growled, fixing him with a glare that promised much, much worse later. Moving to his desk, he grabbed the coffee sitting there and sipped it thoughtfully. “Okay,” he snapped, “Sit-rep. What do we have?”
McGee picked up the remote from his desk, and swivelled his chair around to face the wall screen. He pressed one button, and a file picture of Seaman Alison Balboa came up, accompanied by her service record. “Deceased is one Alison Balboa, 32, well thought of by her superiors. Cause of death... we’re still waiting on Ducky to confirm for sure, but it looks like massive trauma to the neck. Ducky’s not saying anything for sure because he’s not happy with the amount of blood found at the crime scene.”
Tony leant over the desk, and expertly swiped the remote out of McGee’s grasp. Stepping away from the seated McGee, he smirked once in victory and operated it. Two of McGee’s photos from the crime scene came up, focusing on the two young women they’d found there.
Tony strode there impassively for a moment, staring at the one picture of Faith, before shaking it off and continuing. “Two women were found at the crime scene in question,” he carried on, glad for all those years of procedure at both NCIS and Baltimore PD to fall back on, “Answering to the names of Buffy Summers, and Faith Lehane.”
He tilted his head to the side slightly, and studied the picture of Faith in her leather jacket and trousers carefully. “Somebody spent quite a bit on time getting just the perfect angle and exposure on that photo, McGee.”
McGee just leaned back a little further in his chair, and smirked. “There’s a copy of it already blown up and on your desk, Tony.”
Tony stopped smiling, but still glanced automatically at his desk. Had Probie really... damn. He really was getting way too predictable in his jabs at McGee. “Anyway,” he said in a lofty tone, “Concentrating on the case which we should be...”
There was a muffled noise from near Gibbs’s desk which could have been a “Damn straight.”
Tony bravely soldiered on. “We don’t know how these two got into the base, or even into the warehouse in question, we don’t know where they are now, or what they wanted in the first place.”
He flicked the button a final time, and a still picture of the third person from the base, appeared, still with the tarp over them. “All we know is they sounded like they were looking for Mr X over here.”
Gibbs grunted. “McGee...”
“I’ll keep running these camera records boss, see if I can get a lead on where or how Mr X can have gone.”
“I’ll contact my old sources in Baltimore PD, check out Lehane, see if anyone’s seen or heard anything since that so-called funeral.”
Gibbs nodded. “Ziva, records search for you. Lehane mentioned something called the Initiative. Look for that, or anything on IWC. Also, when Abby’s finished with it, check into that signature of the SecDef on Summers’s ID. She was right about one thing – that was a personal signature.”
“Ah... I will be right on that, Gibbs,” Ziva said awkwardly.
Gibbs’s head snapped around, ready to rebuke the Israeli until he saw her predicament. Somehow Abby had come up from behind her and grabbed her in a great big bearhug, and was just holding her, head resting peacefully on Ziva’s shoulder.
Tony snorted. So much for famed Mossad reflexes.
Abby disentangled herself from Ziva, and stood directly in front of her, pointing one finger into Ziva’s face. “No!” she said firmly, “No more getting knocked out, k? You are my highly trained Mossadly assassin friend, and you do all the knocking out. Get it?”
Without waiting for an answer, she spun round and spotted Gibbs. “Guess who owes me another Caf-Pow!”
Gibbs almost found himself smiling. “Me?” he ventured, hiding the upwards twitch of his lips behind another sip of coffee.
“Darn tooting!” Abby said, and grabbed the remote from Tony’s hands. Pressing a complicated sequence of buttons that only McGee could probably have followed, she finished it off with a flourish towards the main screen.
“I got you fingerprints off the ID card. And then I ran ‘em through the system. Voila!”
Up on the screen was a picture of Buffy Summers. That, Gibbs had been expecting. What he was not expecting though was the file record also displayed alongside it. Along with several blacked out areas of text, he could see the name listed as Elizabeth Summers. But what really made him blink was the logo displayed at the top of the file.
Tony made a strangled noise beside him. “She’s FBI, boss?”
~ + ~