Threat of Suffering or Death
by channelD
written for: the NFA Smiley challenge. Selecting a smiley (emoticon) from a given list, the writer then has to write a story about that smiley. I chose the evil grin, which here represents threat.
rating: K plus
genre: drama/case file
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disclaimer: I own nothing of NCIS.
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All violence consists in some people forcing others, under threat of suffering or death, to do what they do not want to do. ~ Leo Tolstoy
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Chapter 1
"See, we gets all kinda mail in here," said Isaiah Browning as he lifted one box after another onto the mail desk. "Big boxes, little boxes, envelopes of all sizes. Supplies. Forms…tons a' forms. The gov'ment can't run without its forms. Even though lots of the agents do mosta their work on the internet now. Still a lotta paper forms. An' they all come through this room right here."
"And you have to open all the mail yourself?" asked Lydia Stolt, a shiny new intern at NCIS. She was starting her first week at HQ seeing how the various jobs went. Isaiah was a little old-fashioned and corny, but the old man reminded her of her grandpop, so she couldn't help feeling some affection.
"Heck, no! The stuff that's already labeled as to who gets it, I just send on. Let 'em open it. There's lotsa letters addressed just to "special agent" and the like. I just dump them on the squad room and I guess they open them there. This ain't like some a' the fed'ral agencies I worked at, the ones where money comes through the mailroom, where mail is a big security thing and a member a' management opens it all. Nah, we got little of value here. So I can open it or not, as I see fit. Now take this here box…" It was a cube, about 18 inches in dimensions. "…All she says on her is 'NCIS' with the building's address. From one of them next-day shipping companies. So I gotta open her to see what department gets her."
Isaiah cut the box open carefully, and then undid layers of wrapping while Lydia watched intently. "What the…?" He stepped back. Lydia gulped and then covered her mouth to ward in the scream. She was a Criminal Justice major and would have to get used to stuff like this.
"I'd say," Isaiah shrugged, and taped the box back up. "I'd say this is meant for Forensic Evidence. 'Attention Abby Sciuto'," he said aloud as he wrote on a interdepartmental routing label, which he taped on the box. "Do you want to deliver it?" he asked Lydia.
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"Hi. Lydia, right?" Abby greeted the intern with a smile. "You can set the mail on that table. Oh, and I get a box today, too? Cool." She was already back to what she was doing and didn't really notice the young woman's pallor.
About 15 minutes later, Abby opened the box.
That was the start of the chaos.
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"Jethro! Jethro! I need you down here immediately!" There was screaming in the background, behind Ducky's urgent request. "And the Director, too, if he's there with you. He's not in his office."
Gibbs turned sharply toward the video phone, which was broadcasting from Abby's lab. That was Abby doing the screaming; he was sure of it. "On our way!" he said, already running. Vance was a step behind.
It was pandemonium in the lab. "Abigail! Abigail! Take it easy!" Ducky was saying to the weeping, thrashing woman. A couple of NCIS security guards stood by, looking helpless.
"Interesting," said Jimmy Palmer. He stood off to one side, looking inside a box that was on a table.
"No…no…no…no…no…no…no!" Abby keened.
"You need to get the mailroom," Ducky said over his shoulder to Gibbs and Vance. "Find out where that box came from."
"What's in the box?" asked Vance.
"Abigail, I'm going to give you a sedative. I really think it will help you."
"This is just so…" Jimmy said mildly, ignoring the others.
"No! No! Make it not be real, Ducky! Please! Make it not be real!!!"
Gibbs and Vance reached the box at the same time, and looked inside it. Vance swore and jumped back, almost knocking Gibbs over. He ran to a work sink and threw up.
The box contents had Gibbs riveted. His heart tried to burst through his chest, and for a moment, he felt faint. He put a hand on the table to steady himself.
Inside the box was a severed human head.
The head of Tim McGee.
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Jimmy, wearing gloves, poked at the head, kneading the skin. "Abby!" he called. "Beeswax."
"Aha! That's what I have been telling you, Abigail! It isn't real. It's a clever fake. A wax museum-type head. Yes, that would make sense. A wax head."
"A fake?" asked Vance, looking at the head anew, though still appearing sick. But he closed his eyes again and turned his head away.
"You thought it was real, Director?" Jimmy said with a laugh, which he then swallowed under Vance's and Gibbs' cold stares.
"You were sure it wasn't, Palmer? How?" asked Gibbs.
"Well…my family always liked going to the wax museums when we traveled, so I know a bit about wax figures. I've touched a few. And when they put in the hair, did you know that they do it one hair at a time? This has clumps of hair inserted." He looked happy in his knowledge, and rapped on the eyes, ignoring the grimaces of the others. "Glass. Good match on the color."
Vance stepped aside to call the mailroom on his phone and demand Isaiah Browning's presence. He then turned to Gibbs as a thought occurred to him. "McGee is okay, isn't he?"
"He's been out sick this week with a bad cold."
"When did you last talk to him?"
"Um…day before yesterday."
"This is a threat," Vance indicated the box. "I don't like it when my people are threatened. Drop your other work, Gibbs. This is your top priority."
Gibbs nodded, and turned to go, when Tony and Ziva came out of the elevator with Isaiah Browning firmly in tow. "We were just coming back in from break, and HR asked us to escort Isaiah here," Tony said. "He was a…little reluctant to come. What's going on?"
"I didn't do anything, Agent Gibbs! You gotta believe me! I thought the box was meant for Miss Sciuto! Honest!"
"You opened a box with a severed head, and didn't report it to anyone?!" Gibbs snarled.
"I thought it was evidence! So nicely wrapped an' all! Ain't it evidence?"
"A…severed head? Someone sent Abby a severed head?" Ziva said wide-eyed.
"She likes skulls, not whole heads," said Tony. "Where is it?" He approached Gibbs and the box.
"Don't, Tony!" Gibbs cautioned. But it was too late.
Tony gaped and swore, likewise was sick, and cried before Jimmy could reassure him that the head wasn't real.
"Someone is sick, sick, sick," Tony said, wiping his mouth. "Why the hell would anyone do that?!"
"To make us afraid. For McGee; maybe for any of us. But for the moment, assume McGee."
"Go pick up McGee," Vance directed Ziva and Tony. "Safe house #2 is available. Take him there, and wait with him until I can get a protection team there."
Gibbs felt anxiety growing. I haven't talked to McGee in two days. He pulled out his cell phone and listened to the ringing on the other end. Pick up, McGee. Pick up…