Chapter Text
If it wasn't Rock Creek Park and murdered petty officers, it was Shenandoah National Park and well, Navy and Marine service members of all ranks. Such was Tony DiNozzo's maudlin thought as they headed southwest out of Washington, DC one sunny mid-spring Monday afternoon.
As usual, Gibbs was driving at his regular manic pace, and Tony (who'd managed to call shotgun for the front passenger seat) was indulging his usual game of counting the angry horn blasts from drivers the boss had cut off. They were forty minutes into a two and a quarter hour journey, and the tally was nine so far. Though Tony thoroughly expected that number would rise as the trip progressed.
The call from dispatch had been that a body had been found at the base of one of the waterfalls in the park. Dressed in civvies (hiking clothes and boots to be exact), park rangers had assumed the man had slipped when attempting to climb the side of the falls. When they got the body to the local coroner though, there'd been a huge shift in that perception, when he'd found a bullet wound at the base of the man's skull. The victim had been shot at close range, execution style.
That set the local National Park Service ISB (Investigative Service Branch) agent, Special Agent Aiden Webster to cursing a little. The park rangers, assuming the death to be accidental, had paid no attention to forensics at the site. There'd been a couple of photos taken to establish where the body had been found, and that was the extent of things. The two rangers, rookies in their first year, hadn't even called ISB in until after the coroner had started the autopsy.
Webster didn't know whether to be relieved or run for the hills when the fingerprints on their victim came back with the identity of Zachary (Zach) Beecher, a thirty-nine year old naval commander. Beecher was assigned to 'special duties' in Naval Intelligence at the Pentagon, and was currently on two week's leave. The ISB agent made the call to NCIS and had been halfway horrified when their dispatch had called him back with the news that the Major Case Response Team was on its way.
Aiden, recently posted to Shenandoah from the West Coast, had never had the dubious pleasure of meeting Leroy Jethro Gibbs before, though he'd been warned thoroughly about the man by his retiring predecessor. He knew the team wouldn't arrive until mid-afternoon at the earliest, and the special agent was anticipating a long night ahead.
Meanwhile, Tony, who'd spent the morning testifying in court, gave up trying to change out of his high-priced suit as Gibbs continued to drive madly (the horn count was up to seventeen). He'd nearly given himself a concussion on the dash, trying to switch his loafers for hiking boots. The SFA was just hoping he'd have five minutes to raid his go-bag for more park appropriate attire after they arrived.
Though he wasn't truthfully all that hopeful, not after dispatch had relayed the news of the corrupted crime scene an hour into the drive. Gibbs was guaranteed to go on a tear the second they got there. In the back-seat, the junior agents, David and McGee, had chuckled a little at Tony's shoe changing efforts. They'd had a ten minute window to switch out clothing, waiting on the SFA's return from court. At least McGee had been standing with Tony's go-bag in hand when he went to get off the elevator, and was immediately turned around by an impatient Gibbs, anxious to get on the road.
~~~○●○●○●○~~~
It was just after two o'clock when Gibbs pulled to a screeching halt (angry horn count twenty-six) in front of the park ranger station, having shaved twenty minutes off the drive. He was already frustrated. He'd tasked McGee to start the internet searches on his laptop as they'd travelled, but the cell signal was so spotty that the junior agent had barely made a dent in the background checks on the victim or any similar cases.
Tony, knowing Gibbs was on a hair trigger over the whole situation, suggested, as they pulled up, "How about McGee stays here, where there's sure to be a signal, and gets those searches going? Then you and I can take a look at the scene, while Ziva scares the pants off a couple of rookie park rangers. Ducky and Palmer are headed to the coroner's office already, so we're well on our way to dividing and conquering this case."
Gibbs growled subvocally, but didn't argue the distribution of labour, which Tony took as agreement with his plans. A quick glance towards the junior agents in the back of the sedan had them scrambling to their assigned tasks, while Gibbs stalked off in search of coffee. He'd run out thirty minutes into the drive, which also didn't bode well for his temper for the rest of the day.
This left Tony to be greeted by the ISB special agent, Aiden Webster, who felt he'd dodged a bullet when the MCRT team lead simply stomped by him, in search of caffeine. The pair spoke briefly, most of the known facts had already been relayed through short calls when a cell signal was available, as the team had been on the way.
Aiden steered Tony into the ranger station, towards the conference room that was now a de facto situation room. Grabbing a map, he urged the SFA to take the seat beside him, then began marking up the map with his pen to highlight salient points for further investigation.
"I'd really prefer to come out there with you and Gibbs, but my boss wants me on a conference call with him and the regional director for the park service. It seems that no one is happy at how badly this has all gone FUBAR," Aiden commented, as Tony multi-tasked perusing the map and changing into hiking boots.
He had no confidence in the idea that Gibbs would allow him time to change the rest of his clothes out, seeing as the man had already guzzled his first cup of coffee and was currently filling three cups, which Tony anticipated would be 'to go'. It was time to prioritise, he decided, as he resigned himself to the likelihood his suit would be trashed before the day was over. He grabbed a couple of water bottles sitting on a side table, and drank one down immediately. He'd had nothing since breakfast and it was now two-thirty, but water was all there was on offer.
"Got the location sorted out, DiNozzo? Let's get moving then, we're burning daylight." Brusque as ever, Gibbs was ready to get the investigation underway. Behind his boss' back, Tony just rolled his eyes, with an 'I told you so' sort of expression on his face, then laughed when Aiden waved farewell and wished them luck.
~~~○●○●○●○~~~
The drive to the trailhead that led to the falls where Commander Beecher's body had been found took nearly twenty minutes. Tony slung his backpack go-bag over his shoulders, having doffed his tie, but leaving his suit coat on. All he had in his pack was a lightweight henley sweater, and the breeze in the mountains was just a little too brisk for a light top, particularly if they were still there close to nightfall.
The hike to the pool at the base of the waterfall took maybe ten minutes, over a slowly climbing, well-manicured trail. Once they arrived, Tony kept the map while Gibbs examined the photos that the rangers had taken when recovering Beecher's body, trying to spot where the attacker may have pushed him over the edge.
Meanwhile, Tony was exploring the area that had been designated on the map as a marked climbing zone up the side of the falls. He made his way slowly part of the way up the slope, picking his path carefully, given he had no climbing gear and wasn't exactly dressed for such an undertaking. As he looked upwards though, he could pick out a route that it appeared other climbers routinely used, by footprints he could spot in dried patches of mud.
The falls were about seventy feet high from what Aiden had told him, and Tony was pretty sure he could make it to the top. Surely there would be evidence of the murder or the body disposal there, given the Commander mist had been pushed over the edge of the cliff.
Calling down to Gibbs, Tony shouted, "Boss, I'm going to climb to the top, look for trace evidence up there. Might even find the murder site if our luck has gotten any better. Give me a shout if you need me."
Gibbs, who was frankly a bit distracted by his frustrations over the screwups in the case already, just half-listened, then gave a wave of acknowledgement without really hearing what Tony had planned. One added and unexpected source of annoyance was McGee and David. Both had taken the time to change clothes after the call had come in from dispatch, but neither had shown any initiative in making sure that they gathered any further equipment than their day pack kits.
Tony always ensured they had satellite phones and basic provisions when they went to off-the-grid locations such as Shenandoah. But being held up in court meant his Senior Field Agent hadn't had the opportunity to procure what they needed. It seemed that neither junior agent had the sense to consider what would be required that day.
McGee appeared to consider himself fully kitted out if he had his laptop and chargers, while Ziva had only double checked that she had the plethora of weapons she usually carried. It went without saying that Gibbs wouldn't take responsibility for not having the necessary equipment though. Too many years of an almost mind-reading SFA had him totally spoiled.
While Gibbs fumed futilely, then went over the area around the base of the falls for signs the perpetrator had come down to survey his handiwork,Tony was painstakingly picking his pathway upwards. Hiking boots weren't ideal for climbing, though they certainly beat his leather-soled loafers. Regardless, he was making steady progress and fifteen minutes after he set out, he crested the top of the cliff. He shouted out once more to Gibbs, to let him know he'd reached the top, but his words were swept away by the wind and the rapidly falling water. When Gibbs didn't respond or look up, Tony just sighed and set to his self-appointed task.
There were distinct signs of a struggle in the small area of bare earth bordered by the swiftly running stream and the cliff edge. The dirt had been scuffed up, and it must have been recently, because Aiden had reported light showers the night before. Tony unsung his backpack long enough to grab the digital camera and some plastic triangular numbered markers, just in case he spotted any trace evidence. He spent the next twenty minutes combing through the area, taking photos of the scuffed up earth and carefully recording the two key pieces of evidence he found.
The first had been an almost brick-sized piece of rock, that had been seemingly tossed into some tall grass. Tony wasn't sure if Abby would be able to pick up fingerprints from the rough surface, but he was certain she'd match the blood stains to their victim. To the experienced investigator, it was obvious this was how the extremely fit Commander had been subdued enough to then be shot in the back of the head. He bagged and tagged the rock, then zipped it into his backpack. Tony wore the backpack throughout his exploration, ever mindful of the chances of cross-contamination of evidence if he set his pack down.
The senior field agent paused for a moment, to swig some water from the extra bottle he'd picked up at the ranger station. His stomach growled, reminding him he'd missed lunch and it was getting close to dinnertime, but as a member of Gibbs' team, that organ was well used to being ignored. It was as Tony twisted to put the bottle back in his pack, that a glint of colour caught his eye.
He bent forward, to peer into some rocks lining the edge of the creek. Stuck between two small boulders was a pristine looking bullet shell. It now seemed certain that this was the kill site. Tony propped a numbered marker on top of one of the boulders sticking out of the water, then carefully photographed the casing in situ, before using a set of long surgical tweezers from his kit to extract the shell from between the rocks, also while successfully not ending up in the river himself. He manoeuvred the evidence into the bag, which he'd already signed and labelled, then sealed it and tucked the bag into his coat pocket, so he could stand back up and return to dry land.
That's when all hell broke loose. The sound of the falls and the wind had masked any hint of someone approaching. Moments later, it felt like Tony's head was exploding from the mother of all head slaps. Unfortunately, Gibbs wasn't behind this assault, and it was delivered by a hand that had found another heavy rock to strike the blow. Light suddenly became dark as Tony fell face forward into the water at the edge of the river, blood pouring from the injury to the back of his head. He'd already lost consciousness before he was hauled like a sack of potatoes out of the water, and never knew that the evidence marker was still sitting on the rock, nor that the bag with the bullet had fallen from his pocket as he collapsed.
~~~○●○●○●○~~~
When Tony next came back to full alertness, he was in almost complete darkness and feeling like a pretzel. It seems his captor had found quite a successful way to hinder escape, or even much movement at all. He could feel the steel of what he guessed were his own handcuffs encircling his right wrist. Unfortunately he was almost bent double, because the other cuff was locked around his right ankle. He mentally patted himself on the back for the yoga classes he'd taken on and off over the years, that he could actually handle such a position without suffering unmerciful cramping.
It was at this point that Tony realised he wasn't thinking entirely clearly, and he made a conscious effort to catalogue the situation he'd found himself in, after momentarily berating himself for getting kidnapped by another killer.
Soon it became obvious that they were still in the woods. Tony could hear the wind in the trees that appeared to surround them, and the surface he was lying on seemed little more than a tarpaulin, with the cold and damp of the earth below trying to seep into his bones. His head pounded fiercely and a hand raised to the back of his skull came away bloody. The wound was still seeping, it seemed.
Having taken stock of his own body, Tony decided it was time to see more of his surroundings, perhaps find out who'd attacked him. There was a dim light several feet from him, but it required the agent to roll onto his right side to see. After some considerable squirming, he achieved that goal, and then suddenly wished he hadn't bothered.
Because that face that peered back at him, from the dim light of an old hurricane lamp, was a face he knew all too well. For his assailant had been on the FBI's most wanted list for the last fourteen months, after he'd engineered an escape during a transfer to the Red Onion state prison, one of Virginia's highly feared supermax prisons. He was in the hands of a serial killer once again; this time in the person of Malachi Townsend.
Convicted of three sniper-style shootings of hikers along the Appalachian Trail in Virginia, he was also wanted for questioning related to four other murders in Maryland and North Carolina. If he'd been convicted two years earlier, the man would have been on death row, but there'd been a recent moratorium on assigning the death penalty, hence being sent to the supermax prison once convicted.
The killer spoke then, in a low, menacing voice, "You know, you're a lucky man, Agent DiNozzo." That's when Tony realised he'd been relieved of his service weapon and credentials. "I used my last bullet on that guy earlier today. Ran across him on the trail and he started acting a bit squirrelly; think he recognised me from the news reports. Couldn't have him telling anyone I was here, now could I? But yeah, that was my last bullet. Until you resupplied me at least." Tony saw that he'd also found the extra clips that had been in his backpack and halfway despaired. This was going to be a tough one, to come out alive.
Putting on a touch of bravado, Tony responded, "You know if you kill a federal agent, that's automatically a death sentence, right?"
Townsend seemed a little taken aback to see the NCIS was not cowering in fear. He shrugged, as if to say he didn't care.
Continuing, Tony pressed his case, "The thing is, you'll probably be begging for a lethal injection after my boss gets to you. The man is a real Captain Ahab when someone on his team gets hurt. Retired Marine sniper and even now, he can hit a target the size of a dime from two thousand yards away. Still holds a lot of the Marine sniper records, to this day. The thing is, he won't kill you. No, he'll just shoot to do the maximum damage. You'd probably never walk again, or be able to feed yourself or take a leak. He's a vindictive SOB, and will wait years if he has to, to take that shot."
Certain he'd halfway put the fear of Gibbs into Townsend's brain, Tony went on to detail the story of the hunt for Ari after he'd killed Caitlyn Todd, and how patient Gibbs had been in seeking retribution for the killing of his wife and child. All the while, he was assessing and interpreting the micro-expressions that flitted across the fugitives face. He didn't think he'd convinced him to surrender himself to the authorities, but was mostly hopeful, for the moment, that he wouldn't die tonight.
While Townsend stayed silent, apparently contemplating the revelations of Tony's stories, the captured agent succumbed to the pain, blood loss, stress and fatigue. Despite the cold and damp, and the discomfort of his bent over position, sleep claimed him, and he fell into deep slumber.
~~~○●○●○●○~~~
Dusk was hinting at its approach when Gibbs finally let go of his brooding over his team's deficiencies. He'd managed to thoroughly search the site where the body of Commander Beecher had been found, and even tracked back to the trailhead to ensure the killer hadn't taken that route.
As the first hints of peach appeared on the western horizon, Gibbs realised it was almost five-thirty and he hadn't heard from DiNozzo for several hours. Now ticked again, convinced the SFA was probably just lollygagging at the top of the cliff, he shouted up for the agent to come down. There was no response, and Gibbs cursed the lack of sat phones again. There was nothing for it, but that Gibbs would have to climb the cliff and retrieve DiNozzo. He vowed to himself that he'd deliver a head slap the man would feel for a week when he found him. Fuelled by his anger, Gibbs reached the cliff top in near record time. And that's where he received the shock of his life.
For there was clear evidence of DiNozzo's doings that afternoon. The evidence marker and bag with shell casing were in clear sight. Gibbs slipped into routine and photographed both. This was proof of two crimes now. He periodically shouted DiNozzo's name, knowing it was likely a vain attempt to locate the man, but feeling compelled to do it anyway. It took no time at all to find signs of fresh blood, and a good amount at that. Gibbs dutifully took swabs, knowing it must be his agent's blood. The killer had gotten the drop on Tony, and the hefty rock he found next, bearing signs of Tony's hair and blood, nearly made him throw up. He'd been down below, and heard nothing. His agent had been left unprotected, and now the younger man was at the mercy of a killer again.
Gibbs swiftly surveilled the surrounding area, but there was no sign of the attacker or the agent. There was a short trail of blood down a deer track leading away from the river, but that soon petered out. It appeared that whoever had kidnapped DiNozzo had to be a large and very strong man, because there were no signs of a body being dragged. It took a lot of strength and endurance to fireman's carry another adult male any distance. Gibbs could only hope that they were relatively close, and would be easily tracked in the morning.
For the team lead realised that sunset was closing in, he had a cliff to descend, and that it would be insane to try to search an area he didn't know in the dark, and with no backup. Gibbs nearly double-timed it back down the cliff and down the trail to the car, evidence stowed in his own backpack that Tony had set up for him years before.
Gibbs made it back to ranger's station in only twelve minutes, despite the risk of animals on the road as night fell. He curtly reported the news of Tony's abduction to Special Agent Webster, David and McGee, along with Ducky and Palmer, who were ready to transport the body of Commander Beecher back to DC.
Aiden Webster swung immediately into action, pulling out a call sheet listing search and rescue (SAR) organisations in the surrounding areas. Within ten minutes, he had three groups ready to begin searching at first light the next morning. When he heard that Jimmy Palmer was a fully qualified MD and was insisting on staying to help search for his friend, Aiden made a quickfire decision. He detailed one of the rookie rangers who'd screwed up the crime scene to drive the ageing NCIS medical examiner, the evidence and the commander's body back to DC in the NCIS van. He'd heard the man they called Ducky commenting how glad he was that Palmer was able to drive them back to DC, bemoaning his night vision wasn't what it used to be. Aiden had no clue how the rookie would get back here to his posting afterwards, nor did he really care. At least this way, they could get the forensics completed as thoroughly as possible.
Gibbs, meanwhile, was dealing with the need to make two very painful phone calls. He first called Leon Vance, updating the director on the case and DiNozzo's apparent abduction. When Vance had made a somewhat snide comment about the SFA going for the record for most abductions of a federal agent, he found himself facing the guilt-ridden wrath of Gibbs. The man had backed off immediately and promised to send an extra team to help the MCRT, now they were a man down. He also offered to contact SecNav to see if she could arrange air support for the search. And the much needed sat phones would be sent with the backup team. Mollified, Gibbs hung up and made the second, even more difficult, call.
Dialling the number for the NCIS lab, Gibbs knew Abby had seen his number when the call was answered with a frenetic, "Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs! Where's my evidence? I've been waiting for you to put Major Mass Spec and me to work!" There was pounding music in the background and the headache the team lead had been brewing for hours burst forth in all its glory.
"Abs, Abs…" Gibbs was unable to break through the forensic scientist's over-caffeinated babble. Knowing he had to resort to extreme measures, he ended the call, waited thirty seconds, then called back. To the same result.
Hanging up once again,Gibbs resigned himself to repeating the pattern until Abby calmed down. When his fifth call was answered more calmly, he asked her to turn her music off and listen to him. It was an ugly conversation. Abby confessed to having had six extra large Caf-Pows already that day, and was working on her seventh; Gibbs mentally doubled that number from long experience with a hyped up Abigail Sciuto. Predictably, she went ballistic over Tony being kidnapped, and freaked out at the news that their victim had been shot execution style, immediately fearing the worst for the SFA.
It was an uncomfortable twenty minute conversation for the man Tony had once labelled a 'functional mute'. For all his years in law enforcement, Gibbs still struggled with how to comfort hysterical people, whether they be victims, family members or hyperactive co-workers. Only with kids did he unbend enough to be a comforting presence in times of trauma.
Gibbs finally got Abby to agree to lay off the caffeine and try to nap a little before the evidence arrived with Ducky. It would be well after nine before the medical examiner appeared back at the Navy Yard and he would prefer Abby to be at her best when examining the evidence they'd found. After all, it would likely be the key to bringing Tony home safely. Hanging up, after mouthing one more round of reassurances, Gibbs went in search of coffee. He didn't stop to consider the irony of having just told Abby to cut back on the caffeine as he snagged the biggest coffee mug he could find in the break room and filled it to the brim. It was time to regroup with his team and make some plans.
~~~○●○●○●○~~~
Shortly before eleven pm, Balboa's team arrived in two agency sedans. Gibbs appreciated the fact that Vance had sent such a highly skilled and experienced team to back the MCRT up. When Balboa handed over a duffel bag full of sat phones, Gibbs about could have hugged the other team lead.
The diminished MCRT, along with Aiden Webster and senior ranger Mira Guthrie, had been poring over the topographical maps of the area around the falls for the last couple of hours. They'd also been joined by the local search and rescue coordinator, Matt Duncan, who'd shown up of his own accord to join the planning session. He was very useful, having conducted many searches for lost hikers over the years, and being familiar with the terrain.
It was likely the killer had retreated back into the mountains and forest above the falls, as Gibbs had found no trace of the man having climbed down the cliff beside the falls. But there was a vast area that stretched to the south along the river, and according to both Mira Guthrie and Matt Duncan, much of it consisted of thick scrubby understory with limited accessibility. It would be a slow, painstaking search to ensure they didn't miss an injured Tony dumped in the forest. Needless to say, no one broached the subject that they might also be searching for a body.
McGee reported on his searches for similar cases in Virginia, the surrounding states and other national parks. He'd been largely unsuccessful. The single shot execution killing was favoured more by the Mob and gangs, as a form of retribution. It was not commonly the murder approach of choice for killing a stranger on a hiking trail deep in the woods.
He'd also struck out on connecting the commander's death to his duties at the Pentagon. Commander Beecher had only just been promoted to the position, and was taking leave before starting his new posting. He'd yet to get his hands on any classified material from the Pentagon, and his previous posting had been as an intelligence analyst based in Rota, Spain. While McGee couldn't swear that Beecher hadn't been killed for anything related to his naval duties, it seemed increasingly unlikely.
Ziva had also struck out with her interrogation of the two rookie park rangers. The duo had been on a routine patrol and had decided to check the vicinity of the falls as part of their regular evaluation of trail conditions in the park. They'd been happily chattering away, discussing their ideal park postings when they gained enough seniority, and had literally noticed nothing beyond the trail conditions under their feet.
The pair had arrived at the pool at the base of the falls and had been shocked to find the body of the victim on the bank of the pond, below the climbing trail up the cliff face. Assumptions were made that the man had fallen, due to the signs of a traumatic fall on the body. Rookie one had stayed with the body, while rookie two (as Ziva had labelled them) returned to their vehicle to call for EMTs. It was another dead end to the investigation.
Balboa and his team arrived at that point, and after a quick update, the foursome joined in the planning for the following day's search. Jimmy Palmer appeared out of a back room to also be part of the discussion, anxious to see his friend returned safely.
Matt Duncan took over the lead role in the discussion then. His volunteer pool had swelled since he'd been first called earlier that evening, and he had twenty trained volunteers, several with tracking dogs, that would be ready to head out at seven the next morning. He'd marked out a grid search on the maps, and distributed copies to each of the agents.
McGee volunteered to stay back at the station, to coordinate calls from the search teams and conduct any electronic searches that might be needed, if the teams found any clues. That left the seven federal agents, including Aiden Webster, and twenty one volunteers. It was an easy decision to split the group into seven teams of four, ensuring an armed LEO was on each team for added safety. Jimmy Palmer and Mira Guthrie would oversee the staging post at the trailhead, ready to respond to any emergencies that might arise.
Satisfied with their plans and setting a wakeup call for six am the agents and park employees were directed towards the visitor centre attached to the ranger station. The cafeteria's tables and chairs had been pushed to one side of the room and replaced with camping cots and sleeping bags. It was not the most high class accommodations the MCRT had stayed in, but it would save them from the ninety minute round trip to the nearest town with available hotel rooms.
Just as he was settling into his sleeping bag, Gibbs received a brief phone call from Leon Vance, and was happy to share the news that two Marine helicopters would be deployed from Quantico Marine Base at first light, and would provide aerial support to the search for as long as was needed. That set off a round of applause in the cafeteria, and let everyone drift off to sleep on a more hopeful note.
~~~○●○●○●○~~~
While the teams slumbered, Abby was just getting started. Ducky had returned with the commander's body and the limited evidence Gibbs had been able to collect in the wake of Tony's abduction. She was able to get a partial print off a smoother surface on the bloodstained rock, and was running the print through AFIS for a match, while her DNA results were processing, to confirm the blood was Tony's. A preliminary check of blood type had been a match, but Abby knew she needed to be thorough in this case.
The bullet casing had been wiped clean and the only fingerprints on the evidence marker belonged to Tony, so that was a dead end. The bullet was nine millimetre ammunition, of the sort that could be bought in bulk practically anywhere, but she still had to check ballistics for a match of the weapon that had fired that bullet to any other crimes. It was mostly the hurry up and wait sort of tasks that were the bane of forensic scientists the world over. A check-in from Director Vance and a brief visit from Ducky as he prepared to head out for the remainder of the night, were welcome interruptions to the drudgery.
The fingerprint identification and confirmation of Tony's DNA on the large rock, occurred almost simultaneously, just before six am. Abby double-checked the results, after her heart sank at the news that Tony was in the hands of the convicted serial killer and fugitive, Malachi Townsend. When the ballistics results came back moments later, and matched to the weapon Townsend had stolen off a guard during his escape, her spirits sagged even further. "Another serial killer, Tony? Really?"
She called up to Leon Vance's office to share the results. Shamed by Gibbs' words about his blasé response to DiNozzo's capture, the NCIS director had elected to sleep on his office couch, wanting to be on hand for any developments. He was soon in Abby's lab to review her findings, and made the call to Gibbs with the news. The soft swearing on the other end of the phone surprised neither Leon or Abby, nor the sound of the MCRT leader rousing the troops to share the news. As he ended the conversation, Vance gave the order, "I want hourly sitreps Gibbs. SecNav wants DiNozzo found yesterday. Apparently he's a bit of a favourite of Secretary Porter. But it's not just to get her off my back. Everyone at the Yard is going to be begging for updates, and you'd make my life a lot easier with regular reports."
Knowing that was as close as Leon would get to admitting that Tony was a popular agent, known for helping out with other teams and departments, Gibbs took the words for the olive branch that they were. He ended the call with a soft, "Will do, Leon," then proceeded to get everyone moving. They'd need a briefing before the search teams set out, and breakfast wouldn't go amiss either.