CHAPTER IX: The Partners Investigate
DiNozzo began the trip to Rose Bennett's home driving maniacally, as Gibbs would have done. Watching McGee hanging on for dear life caused a grim smile to twitch at the corners of his mouth, until he remembered she was already apparently in custody, and getting there any sooner, or maybe not at all, was probably not going to be of any immediate help to her.
He slowed down, glancing again at the younger agent. Over the years that McGee had been on the team, he had taken a lot of grief from DiNozzo. And in spite of faltering when he had accidentally shot an undercover cop, McGee had stuck it out—had put up with DiNozzo's razzing and with Gibbs' special brand of harassment, had worked his butt off, and was turning into a damned good agent. DiNozzo realized that his respect for McGee had been growing along with McGee's increased confidence in his own abilities to the point where, besides Gibbs himself, there was no one he'd rather have at his back than McGee. He made a decision to act accordingly.
Taking a deep breath, he told McGee everything he knew about the case so far and exactly how he had acquired that knowledge. McGee gazed at him with his mouth partially open, not quite comprehending the confidence DiNozzo was placing in him, not quite understanding yet that in that moment, his relationship with DiNozzo was changing radically, but understanding that his older colleague was sincere. Never again would he have to hear the hated nickname "probie," for DiNozzo had judged him and found him to be a worthy partner.
Before McGee had time to react, DiNozzo was turning the car into the lane where Professor Bennett lived. It was a neighborhood of decades-old cottages, lovingly cared for over the years, shaded by large, old trees.
"There's the house," McGee pointed out.
"Is that the professor's car parked in the drive?" DiNozzo asked.
McGee had already opened up his laptop to check the license plate. "Yup, it's hers."
DiNozzo drove slowly past the yard to park a couple of houses further along the street. Both men unholstered their weapons.
"Keep it out of sight as much as possible," instructed DiNozzo. "Don't want to alarm the neighbors."
Carefully, they exited their vehicle, looking in all directions to assess their surroundings. No one was in view. Cautiously they approached the professor's car, McGee going around to the passenger while DiNozzo checked the driver's side.
McGee tried the door, which was locked, and surveyed the interior through the window. "Her purse is still here, on the floor of the passenger seat."
DiNozzo meanwhile was examining the scuffed grass at the edge of the concrete drive. "They got her when she got out of the car, probably last night when she came home after work. Looks like she kicked a little bit. Hope she scored on one of ‘em."
He looked up and scanned the neighborhood again.
"Let's check out the house. You go around to the back, and I'll meet you there."
McGee walked up the drive cautiously, ducking down when he passed the windows. DiNozzo stepped up on the porch, which held a couple of wicker chairs. He noted the plaque attached to the wall next to the front door: "Caution: watch cats on duty." He knew the professor had a sense of humor, but he hadn't pegged her for being whimsical. He checked the locks; one pin-and-tumbler and one deadbolt. Both appeared to be securely locked. He stepped off the porch and went around the other side of the house. Nothing appeared to be out of order.
In the back yard he saw several flourishing beds of flowers and vegetables. McGee was on the back porch, peering through a window.
"Anything?" DiNozzo asked.
"Not that I can see."
DiNozzo checked the locks on the back door. Locked tight. "Go back around to the front door and wait for me. I'm going to break this window and clear the inside."
As McGee trotted back down the driveway, DiNozzo returned his pistol to its holster and removed his jacket. He held the jacket up against the window, hoping that the only security system the professor had was the watch cats. Looking around again to assess neighborhood activity and seeing no one, he smashed his fist into the window through the jacket.
No sirens went off. In fact, there was no sound except for glass tinkling on the floor as he punched the remaining shards out of the frame, making a mental note to himself to requisition another window for the professor from Accounting.
He shook out his jacket and put it back on, and, retrieving his pistol, he stepped carefully through the now-empty sash into what turned out to be the dining room. Across a small hall, on the other side of the back door was the kitchen, where he found the watch cats, four of them, huddled under a small table and hissing at him.
"Cool it, cats," he told them. "I'm one of the good guys." It didn't seem to placate them at all.
He made note that three large bowls on the floor were empty of any evidence of cat food, and a large automatic water bowl was beginning to show signs of depletion.
"Let me just finish checking the house," DiNozzo said, "and then I'll come back and feed you."
Pistol at the ready, he stepped through the house. It was larger than it appeared to be from the outside. There was no sign that the professor had been there anytime recently, but it was full of her spirit. In the master bedroom, the scent of her perfume lingered faintly. There were shelves of books everywhere, and wherever there was an empty space on the walls, an interesting, eclectic collection of artwork was hung.
He finally reached the living room, which contained a grand piano laden with music books and a table covered with what were obviously family photos. Everything was neat and clean, but not so much so that the surroundings seemed sterile or devoid of personality. A cultivated, intelligent person lived here, and it showed.
DiNozzo put his weapon away and opened the front door for McGee, who cast a questioning look.
"Completely clear."
"The watch cats?"
DiNozzo chuckled, appreciating that McGee too had noted the plaque and recognized its whimsy.
"In the kitchen. They're hungry, so let's go interrogate them and then we'll feed them."
McGee grinned, and together they went back to the kitchen.
DiNozzo directed McGee to call Detective Delbart to set up a meeting at NCIS in an hour. They had plots to devise and plans to lay. The next call was to NCIS Facilities to come over to the professor's house and cover the broken window until a new one could be installed. Meanwhile, DiNozzo was opening various cupboards in search of cat food, urged on by the cats themselves, who had given up their territorial behavior once they realized that help was at hand. Once he found the specially constructed bin, he poured generous portions into the cats' bowls, then freshened their water. He was rewarded with ankle polishes and loud purrs. As the two agents prepared to leave the house to return to headquarters, he gave the watch cats their orders: "Stay alert and call us if you hear anything from your mom." Unfortunately, they were immersed by now in their too-long-delayed meal and chose to ignore him.
Carefully locking the back door, the two agents went on their way.
McGee had finally had time to process most of what DiNozzo told him about the case, grateful that Tony seemed at last to have accepted him as a partner and friend. While they drove back to NCIS, he asked questions and offered up his own speculations. They agreed to enlist Delbart's cooperation in setting up a missing person alert. Another call to the Metro detective got that ball rolling. They also agreed that, based on Tony's gut instinct, it would be best not to give Officer David any more information than was absolutely necessary.
Tim asked, "How did the kidnapper know that the professor was a person of interest, and how did he know that you were the one working with her?"
"Good questions," DiNozzo responded, "and since it wasn't you who snitched to the guy, that leaves only one suspect. Unless, of course, it was the director."
Their first task upon arriving back at the office was to ask Personnel for a photo of Professor Bennett to be sent to Delbart, who would then distribute it to police units throughout the city.
"Not that I think she's really going to show up anywhere where she could be found," DiNozzo said to McGee.
In the meanwhile, Ziva sat at her desk, presumably studying the case. The expression on her face was noncommittal, and she had little to say once she'd greeted their return. Her fellow team members couldn't help casting occasional speculative looks at her from time to time. What did she know? What would happen if they confronted her and just asked her if she was double-agenting for Mossad?
When Delbart arrived, DiNozzo led him back into the elevator cum conference room, quickly explaining what was going on. Delbart gazed at the NCIS agent with sad eyes.
"I thought we trusted each other," he said softly.
"I do," DiNozzo answered. "What?"
"You're running around, setting up surveillance, going undercover, all on your own. I told you I'd help you any way I can, which I meant, but you're still doing a solo."
"I trust you. It's just that there were some things I had to find out, and I guess I just decided I needed to do that on my own. I'm sorry. Anyway, it looks like this really is a Navy operation, but I'm still going to need your help in getting this thing solved."
DiNozzo told Delbart about the plan he and McGee had come up with. Delbart agreed to have his team stake out the warehouse and report on an hourly basis any activity going on there. They also planned a strike force that could converge on the warehouse on just a few minutes' notice if it looked like something was going down.
DiNozzo knew that he still needed to get more information about the warehouse from the director. He let Delbart go to put his part of the plan into effect, promising to share with him any new information with him as soon as it came in as he. Then he climbed up the stairs again to Shepard's office,.
Cynthia told him that the director had someone in her office but that she had left instructions for DiNozzo to go right in. When he entered, he found the director sitting at her conference table with another man, whom she introduced as Vice Admiral Johnson, the chief of Naval Weapons Research.
"Well, Special Agent DiNozzo," the admiral began, "you've certainly raised a hornet's nest with us."
"Sorry about that, Admiral," DiNozzo answered with one of his ingratiating grins. "But, not to mix metaphors, don't you think it's better to keep the fox out of the henhouse rather than letting him elope with the hens right under your nose?"
The admiral gave a slightly forced laugh but admitted that was so.
"How did you come by all your information about the warehouse, Agent DiNozzo?" the admiral asked.
"Because I'm a good detective, sir, so I went out and detected," DiNozzo replied. He knew that neither the admiral nor the director was satisfied by that answer, but that's all he was going to give them. No way was he going to rat on the boys.
The admiral considered this for a moment and then appeared to make a decision put both DiNozzo and Director Shepard in the loop. What he told them about the warehouse confirmed DiNozzo's speculations—that it was a center for research on technologically advanced nuclear weapons, methods of delivery, aiming and targeting devices, and so on. Several years ago, the Navy had signed a secret contract with the Israeli military to develop a nuclear device small enough to fit into a backpack. They had reason to believe that someone involved in the project was a double agent; there had been some intel chatter recently indicating that al Qaeda not only knew about the device but was interested in obtaining a prototype any way they could. A device as small as that would give new meaning to the term "suicide bomber."
"The project's almost finished," the admiral added. "In fact, we have a shipment scheduled to go out at around 5:30 today. We're sending the one prototype we have to the Israelis so they can run an independent test on it. Security will be high, but we're trying to make it as invisible as possible"
"Only one device?" queried DiNozzo.
"Several others are close to being completed," replied Admiral Johnson.
"And why are you choosing to share this information with me just now?" DiNozzo went on. "I was given to understand that not even Director Shepard here had a high enough security clearance to know about this project. And here you are, telling me, a lowly field agent, all about it."
"Well, once the Israelis run the test, it's going to become common knowledge anyway in the circles where that knowledge is important," the Admiral responded. "And since the shipment is scheduled for today, and lots of people already seem to know about it, we just decided that it couldn't hurt to have as many folks as possible watching to try to prevent any detrimental actions."
DiNozzo considered that for a moment. "I don't know if Director Shepard has told you this, but this case began with the murders of three innocent people. We have a formal agreement for liaison with the Metro police. I've been working with Detective Delbart. He's in the process right now of setting up surveillance at the warehouse. If anything starts going down, he and his people will be on top of it."
"Is he aware of what work is being done there?" the admiral asked.
"Only of my guesses about it," DiNozzo replied, "and he won't really need to know anything else."
"I don't want you to think that I'm being blasé about this," Admiral Johnson continued. "Security is still of the utmost importance, but I have the discretion to involve lower-level people like you in extraordinary situations like this. We'll certainly be glad to have the extra personnel on hand, but don't think for a minute that this particular letdown in security will have any effect on your future clearances. Especially since you failed to keep in touch with everyone including your own director. I do have to admit you've done a great job of following through on this operation and coming to conclusions that should indeed let us stop the fox."
With that he picked up his hat and prepared to leave. "I hope you'll keep me informed as events play out, madam director," he told Shepard.
As the door closed behind the vice admiral, DiNozzo whispered under his breath, "Pompous old fool." Jen Shepard's response was a laugh.
"I have to go back to work," he told her.
"Right," she said, "but be careful. And DiNozzo? Just because the admiral called me madam director doesn't mean you can."
"Yes, ma'am." His grin this time was on the edge of insolence.
Author's Chapter Notes:
DiNozzo solves a mystery the old-fashioned way.