SLEEPER TEST

A car pulls down a quiet suburban street in a neighborhood where not much goes on after dark. George Lipton drives slowly towards his home not wanting to disturb his neighbors. George brakes and punches a remote mounted on the visor of his car. His garage door slides open as he turns into his driveway and brings his car to a halt inside. He is just opening the door when he realizes the garage door failed to close behind him. He allows his gaze to follow the track up above his head to the motor. It all appears normal and he sighs tiredly as he reaches up to push the remote button again. He waits, but still the door's motor doesn't respond. Impatiently, George punches the remote button several times… the last thing he ever does.

The garage is suddenly engulfed in a massive explosion which sends a fireball shooting out the garage door. The explosion blew out all the windows in his car, dented the roof down and made the interior a blazing inferno. Everything is instantly incinerated, including George Lipton. Lights begin to come on in the houses surrounding Lipton's; awakened by the blast they rush outside to see what happened. Several people run towards George's house, but just then a second explosion rocks the garage as the gas tank of his car ignites. The small group falls back, opting instead to place frantic calls to 9-1-1.

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The next morning Henrietta Lange is sitting at her desk studying the report of the explosion from the night before. She looks up to take in the arrival of her team, Agents Sam Hanna, Mr. Callen and Kenzi Blye, who perches on the corner of her desk waiting for her partner, who is late as usual. Her eyes shift back to the report; from an elderly man whom she instructed be escorted to the Boat House until she could determine how to handle the information he hand-carried to the LA PD this morning. Her eyes shift again to the monitor on her desk. Mr. Cass sits waiting, wringing his hands in his lap as he waits for them review the report.

The report was about a suspicious fire... more than likely a targeted bombing. The victim's name was George Lipton. He was the president of the L.A chapter of the trucker's union. Mr. Cass is with the union's state committee leader… and he's saddened by the untimely death of his old friend George.

When her last team member straggles in, looking once again like he just rolled out of bed, Heddy can't help but smile. Marty Deeks puts on a good front, looking the laid back 'Surfer Dude' he liked to portray, but she knew the truth. By 0700 hrs every morning, Deeks has already been up, run 10 miles, reviewed his case files remotely on his secure laptop and was a step ahead of his team members by the time he arrived. She watched the usual banter from Sam's pointed glance at his watch, to Kenzi's eye roll at Deeks' cheeky comment about who's turn was it to bring breakfast. She gives them a moment, then clears her throat just loud enough to grab their attention.

Four agents turn towards the barely audible sound. All pretense of joking subsides when she merely holds up the report in her hand. They drift her way without command, assembling around her desk to see what their boss has for them so early in the morning. She hands the papers to Agent G. Callen, her team leader, knowing only a minimum of explanation will be needed from her. "I received this earlier this morning... hand delivered by LA PD after they saw the words 'Navy contracts'. Read it over. He's waiting in the Boat House."

"New case, Heddy? You know... we're not done wrapping up the Jensen deal."

Her eyes shift to Detective Deeks, always the one to state the obvious and say what the others are thinking. "Oh, I have no doubt you will be done with it in no time, Mr. Deeks... if you aren't already."

Her insightful comment has him holding his tongue. How did she know he'd finished up his report earlier this morning? He also knew the others were almost done as well, but did Heddy know that too? Was she spying on their work? He gives her a leery look, but she just smiles innocently then diverts her attention back to her lead.

"Trucking, Heddy? Is this in some way under NCIS jurisdiction?"

"Mr. Callen, the Navy uses union truckers to transport a myriad of supplies... so yes, it is ours."

"Okay, I guess Sam and I'll go interview ahh... Mr. Cass. Kenzi, you and Deeks dig up what you can on this George Lipton guy." He hands them the report and they all drift away to begin working this new case. Heddy watches Deeks and Kenzi quickly read over the report before delving into the victim's life. Her mind is already formulating a plan which she has no doubt Kenzi can pull off, but the others will not like one bit.

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"I gotta tell you… he was a great guy. Straight shootin' and very religious."

"Do you have any idea who might have planted that bomb at his home, Mr. Cass?"

"Like I was telling you guys, name that popped into my head right away was Bishop Trucking. They've been bad news for quite a while now."

"How's that?" Sam's bored persona perks up at the mention of an actual suspect in this case.

"Well, there've been reports they 'divert' hot loads from time to time."

"Hot loads? Like what, stolen TV's?"

"No, Navy equipment, munitions, radar systems... that stuff's big on the black market."

"And how do these guys manage to keep their Navy contracts when their loads come up missing?"

"We've been investigating them privately, but so far we haven't been able to come up with a damned thing. Can't fire 'em without proof... you know how the union is."

Mr. Cass picks up the steaming cup of coffee on the edge of the desk and takes several small sips. Deeks and Kenzi are watching from the monitoring room and study the older man carefully.

Cass finally continues, "About last night… there was this problem George was having with Riley… he runs Bishop Trucking… about them dames…"

"Do you mean women, Mr. Cass?" Sam tenses at the term used by their interviewee.

"Yea, sorry… women drivers. George, being George, was furious about how Riley was… taking advantage of them dam… aahh… girls."

"Taking advantage? In what way?" Sam and Callen exchange a glance, realizing there is more to this case than missing Navy supplies.

"He's into what he calls 'honeymoon teams'. They ain't really husband and wife or nothing… it just means Riley supplies his male drivers with a girl for the long runs. It's a bonus... if you know what I mean."

"A sex bonus."

"That's about it, yea. He keeps 'em happy and they keep their mouths shut tight."

"What about the girls? What do they get to... play along?"

"If they're smart and go along, they get paid and..." Mr. Cass falters as he recalls the information he received about the abuse of the women involved.

"And what, Mr. Cass?"

"And... they don't get the crap beat out of 'em... or worse. Some of them da... ahh, girls have come up missing when they decided they didn't want to play along. They're union drivers too, you know... but some have suddenly just disappeared."

"This Riley guy… what's his full name? We'll need the names of the missing girls too."

"I'll be happy to give you all the information I can on that guy. He's a real creep."

Callen sets his pad of blank paper on the desk, sliding it across so Mr. Cass can write down all he knows about Riley and Bishop Trucking. Kenzi listens calmly from the other room, but inside she feels an instant churning in her gut for this Riley character.

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Chip Riley's office wasn't exactly what Callen had been expecting. It looked more like a construction foreman's job site than the office of a man who ran a trucking company as large as Bishop Trucking. Sam takes one look around and decides it says a lot about his personality. They step into the crowded, cluttered office just as Chip Riley stands up from behind his desk. He is smiling and full of charm as he comes to meet the Navy cops with his hand extended.

Callen takes his hand briefly as he says, "Chip Riley. Come in, Agents. I figured you'd be around to see me before too long."

"Agent Callen and this is Agent Hanna. Why did you figure we'd be around?"

"Because I'm sure someone had to tell you we handle the contracts the Navy bases from San Diego to San Francisco... right?"

"Right." Callen takes the seat offered by Mr. Riley, but as there is only room for one chair Sam gladly remains standing. Riley returns to his desk so they can continue this conversation. "We'd also like to talk to you about the union president, George Lipton?"

"We didn't exactly get along. Union bosses and shipping company owners rarely do, you know. He's always bustin' my chops about working conditions."

"And the ladies you hire?" Sam speaks for the first time and although his question is voiced calmly, Riley senses the hostility in the heavily muscled man.

"Let me tell you something he didn't seem to understand. It's progress plain and simple. I hire quite a few women… even in this male dominated business. Truckers, dock workers, oil riggers and cattle ranchers have always been big on the boys club philosophy. That's where I'm different. I'm a maverick… I feel that if a male or female, qualifies for a job, they should have it. Can I get you a cigar?"

"No, thanks." Callen keeps his voice cool, not missing the obvious gesture to the 'boys club' that Riley so vehemently denounced only a moment ago. Riley doesn't seem to notice.

"And, if you've heard any bull about my girls being hookers… that's just what it is… bull shit! Would you like a drink? How about a soda, water?"

"No. Mr. Riley, where were you last night between eight and nine p.m.?"

"Right here, working."

"Alone?"

"No, I was with one of my managers, Monk Sanders. You can check with him… and my wife. It was getting late and she kept calling to…"

Just then Callen's cell phone rings and he holds up a hand to stop Riley as he answers it. "Yea… yea, okay, hang on…" He shoves his pen and a small note pad into his shirt pocket, then says, "Okay, send it to our phones and we'll swing by there next."

Callen hangs up as he is getting to his feet. Chip seems confused by his abrupt departure, but the two agents don't offer an explanation as they head for the door. With his hand on the door Callen turns back to clarify, "I'll be in touch… to finish up this conversation, Mr. Riley."

"Of course." They leave the owner of Bishop Trucking sitting there with a worried expression on his face.

Sam is glad to be outside where the air doesn't smell like stale cigars and flat beer. Even if that office had been immaculately clean Sam would still have thought something smelled funny. He took an instant dislike to Chip Riley… and his too smooth explanations. He gets in his car and waits for Callen to view the new information appearing on his screen before he drops into the seat beside him. As they pull out onto the street, Callen fills him in and Sam just nods and drives towards the address Callen gave him.

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Twenty minutes later Sam and Callen find themselves in one of the older, seedy neighborhoods in south Hollywood. The houses are small and shabby with the lawns burnt brown from lack of water and care. Junk cars parked on the street and in the front yards of some homes seems to be their only adornment. Driving slowly down the street they scans the houses for the right number, drawing quite a bit of attention. Everyone immediately recognizes them for what they are… cops. Sam pulls over to park in front of a large Mack truck that is pulled up in the front yard of this particular house. The truck is old and in need of a paint job and an overhaul, much like the rest of this neighborhood.

As they approach the house Callen realizes someone is actually working on the truck. He sees a pair of blue jean clad legs sticking out from underneath the front end. He pauses by the feet, waiting to be noticed, but after a moment he clears his throat and raps his knuckles on the truck's fender.

"Hello?"

The owner of the blue jean clad legs finally notices him and scoots out from under the truck. Callen is surprised to see a woman get to her knees, dusting the dried grass and dirt from her back as she squints up at him. He estimates she is about forty years old and life hasn't exactly been kind to her. She stands up before him as she uses a dirty old rag to wipe the grime from her hands. She doesn't offer to shake hands.

"Jenny Burke?"

"Jen. Who wants to know?"

Sam smiles at her tough attitude that reminds him so much of Kenzi. He wonders what Kenzi would look like as a truck mechanic. Jenny Burke is still staring at them suspiciously so Callen flips out his flat badge and shows her his ID.

"I'm Agent Callen, Agent Hanna. We're with NCIS."

"You've got the wrong Burke. I didn't call for no cops."

"I know you didn't, but I am looking for you… if you're the Jenny Burke who went to see George Lipton last night." She is still looking at him suspiciously as she continues to scrub at her hands with the dirty rag. Callen prompts her again, "About seven p.m.… in his office?"

"Yea, so?"

"So… he's dead."

"Yea, I heard about it on TV."

"We'd like to talk to you about it."

"Not out here… come inside." She glances up and down the street suspiciously, then turns toward her shabby house.

They follow her into a small, but clean home where she stops just inside the door, conscious of her dirty clothing. She doesn't offer them a seat, but stands by the door and waits.

"What did you meet with him about?"

"A personal matter. It was about a shipper… Western Trucking. I've been a trucker nearly twenty years. I can drive better than most men. And Western… they won't hire women drivers. I met with George to try and get the union to strike that outfit in protest, but he wouldn't do it."

"That doesn't sound like the George Lipton I've been hearing about."

"I thought you said you were a cop. Since when do cops believe everything they hear?" Her tone left no doubt cops were not her favorite people in this world.

There is a tense silence between them as Callen studies her closer. Despite the air conditioning in the house she is perspiring and uses the dirty rag to wipe a bead of sweat that is running down her cheek. He decides to turn up the heat a little more.

"You knew Darlene Sanchez, right?"

"She's dead too."

"Really? How do you know that?"

"She was a relief driver for me some times. And… she lived here with me and my sister once. Last February. After she moved out… she was found dead… murdered in a hotel room about six weeks ago."

"You have any idea who she was driving for at the time?" She simply shakes her head, obviously not wanting to get into things too deeply. "Know anyone who might want her dead?" Another quick shake of her head makes it clear she wasn't going to talk about that subject any further.

"Last night, where were you between eight and nine?" Sam changes topics in the hopes of keeping her talking.

"I was on my way to visit my husband in Rosella."

"On your way…?"

"Yea, my rig broke down just outside of Rosella. I didn't get there until a little after nine-thirty."

"Let's see… that's an hour northeast, right Sam? And you broke down outside of Rosella?"

"That's not far from where Lipton lived." Sam is also watching her closely, noting her nervousness increasing.

She shows her frustration for the first time as she snaps out her next answer. "It's where the veteran's hospital is, too! It's where my husband's been ever since he got crippled in that blast! And I know you're aware of that… or you wouldn't be here, right?!"

She is getting louder and more agitated as she speaks, but Callen calmly watches her as she paces before him and angrily continues, "Yea, so he was a demolitions expert! Yea, he knew explosives in the Army. Yea, I know how to put a bomb together, too… real easy… if I

wanted to… but let me save you a lot of time and questions. I don't know how it happened or why Lipton got blown up last night!"

As if realizing how loud and frantic she was getting, Jenny Burke, once again wipes the sweat from her brow and takes several deep calming breaths. Callen and Sam just stand there watching her, wondering what she is hiding. She finally motions for the door.

"Look, I'm real busy, and I think I've answered enough of your questions. Please leave."

Without another word, Callen and Sam walk to the front door. Jenny holds it open for them and as he is about to leave Callen pauses, staring down into her worried eyes with a silent message. Once he is outside, Jenny slams the door and leans back against it as the exhaustion suddenly claims her from the tension.

Neither agent says it out loud, but their thoughts are the same. Their only chance is to get Kenzi hired on as a driver. Callen knows Deeks isn't going to like the idea, but it's the only way they're going to get any inside information on this case that keeps getting bigger by the minute.