JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, VA, roughly the same time as Harm and Meg are in Kansas.
"Are you out of your mind?!" Mac snapped at Gibbs. "Why the hell should I stick my neck out?"
Gibbs fastened on her a harsh stare. "Try Article 99 (3) of the Uniform Code of Military Justice on for size, Colonel Mackenzie." He paused for a long moment, while the confusion on Lieutenant Colonel Sarah "Mac" Mackenzie's face warred with outrage.
"What?!"
"You failed to ascertain who it was that you were communicating with on a Navy phone when you took the call that breached security and put the lives of several US military personnel in danger, including all those who were at the wedding and anyone connected to them." Gibbs looked at her, the note of disdain evident in his voice. "So…you either do this, or we can take you in cuffs right now under a charge of violating the UCMJ and just so you don't think that this is overkill, we are at war right now."
"But we're fighting Afghanistan and Iraq, not the Soviet Union."
"Makes no difference to me nor will it make a difference to a judge if the case gets in front of him." Gibbs looked disdainfully at the Marine Lieutenant Colonel.
"What makes you think that…" Mac stopped…
At this point, Gibbs' phone went off; he muttered, "Damned piece of electronics." as he fumbled with the phone to answer it. "Yeah…Gibbs here… OK…Todd. I hear you. The forensics team is there? Alright. I'll be there in about an hour. I'm busy right now. See what you can do to find out what happened there and let me know if you get any evidence, fingerprints, whatever you can find." Gibbs hung up.
"…Even if I do stick my neck out…what makes you think that Lindsey will even try to target me?"
Gibbs' look was dour. "Oh, he will…" he said ominously. "…that call I just received was a call from one of my guys." Pausing for a long moment and giving Mac a measuring glance "RADM Albert Brovo was just found…he served with Harm and Kate and was their superior for a while. He was found dead this morning."
2604 Babcock Road, Vienna, VA
"Ma'am. You don't know anything about what happened here?" NCIS Agent Caitlin Todd asked.
"No, Senorita, I have no idea. I just come here to do my weekly cleanup for the almirante and I open the door, Pew! A nasty smell. I go in further, I see almirante…dead. That all I know." The housekeeper said as she looked absolutely miserable.
"I've searched the entire house, Caitlin, but I haven't found a murder weapon. So it must be presumed that the murderer took the weapon with him when he left. However, when I examined the corpse, I did find two distinct bullet holes in behind his head. It was an execution style slaying, I must believe" Dr. Donald "Ducky" Mallard notified Kate as he pulled off his rubber gloves and threw them into a plastic bag which was then sealed and placed into another evidence bag. Those gloves would later be examined as well with regards to the bodily fluids left on them. All secretions from a body were analyzed because they didn't want to miss anything. As the head of the NCIS forensics team and their chief medical examiner, Ducky was highly intuitive and considered a bit strange, by the rest of the team, partly for the fact that he "talked to corpses".
"OK…well, Bag him up. You can do the rest of your post-mortem examination back at the morgue." Cait replied.
"Very well…" Ducky replied as he reached for a body bag, "Caitlin, I will leave the rest of the examination for back at the morgue. Have you finished gathering the evidence and statements?"
"Pretty much." Cait replied. "Just want a final look at the crime scene to determine bullet path angles, and evidence markers. Will be squared up there in a bit."
"Well, I'll be on my way back to the morgue then." Ducky replied as he looked over at the coroner's hearse making its way along the street away from the crime scene and heading back to NCIS HQ.
Knights Park Inn, College Park, MD
It wasn't safe to stay at any place for more than a few days. Koloshenko knew the rules of the sweeper game. Having reconnoitered around his hiding place, he realized that this wasn't the best possible location to stay in for any length of time. Moving around made it so that no-one could trace his tracks. His time with the Navy Inspector General gave him a good idea of the places where his former JAG co-workers used to live. And one person was on his list to get rid of – ever since that bitch in heat showed up in that court-martial versus Captain now Admiral Boone; she had been a thorn in his side. Her disdain for Lindsey had been palpable. Koloshenko guffawed quietly. Rabb would be secretly grateful to him for offing her.
He'd stay for one more day at this broken down old inn and then find a way to get out of town; track this co-worker down of theirs and take care of her. Flipping on the channel, he flipped to a news broadcast.
"Today authorities were on scene of a brutal execution style slaying in the Vienna area as the body of former Rear Admiral Albert Brovo was found. It was said that he was found by his housekeeper when he didn't answer her knock on the door. The housekeeper was initially questioned, but later released when authorities ruled out her involvement. The search is on now for Admiral Brovo's killer.
In other news today…"
Koloshenko switched off the news as he shrugged – it would be hard for them to trace the bullets to him. After all, he made his own bullets…and always took his brass with him. He could cast lead or make copper-jacketed bullets. This was knowledge that he had kept hidden from his superiors in the Navy. In this way, he was lethal, since all he had to do was buy certain items that kept him from the notice of law enforcement and he would still be able to have plenty of ammunition. A few purchases of lead or steel/copper and he was set. Casting lead bullets involved bullet lube that he could easily get from getting beeswax and olive oil so he wouldn't even have to go near a gun-shop. He also had black-market connections for guns…so the weapons were disposable. All he had to do was find guns on the black-market that were in the calibers that he had bullet molds for. Several of his travel IDs indicated that he was a gun-smith so airport security wouldn't notice if he carried molds. And he was smart enough that he'd check for any gun-shows at any location he travelled to or indicated that he was going home from one. He never travelled with anything more suspicious than the molds. And he never made any more bullets than he needed to use for any weapon – that way he was able to move about without setting off alarms from any mode of transportation he used.
Self-defense? Koloshenko didn't require any weapon to be lethal. His father had taught him to use anything and everything as a weapon. Even an everyday object such as a pencil or the corner of a laminated business card could be lethal if used in the correct manner. So he had no fear of getting stopped by law enforcement. He drove at the speed-limit or just slightly below. He never drove while impaired or tired - anything to stay off law-enforcement radar. That was the way to survive in this business. His father told him to never take unnecessary risks and that was the counsel that Koloshenko was going to hold to.
Meg and Harm's Apartment, Reston, VA (2 days later)
"So, we're stuck here." Harm grumbled to Meg as he looked around at the four confining walls of his living room. Shaking his head he looked over at DiNozzo who, to Harm's annoyance, was getting comfortable on the living room couch. "So…DiNozzo, you setting up home here?" he asked pointedly.
"Yeah, I'm just comfy, thanks…" DiNozzo shot back.
"So…Gibbs told you to stick around and protect us?" Meg asked, her tone indicative of how she felt about a NCIS agent sticking around their place during what was supposed to be her and Harm's honeymoon.
At that pointed question, Tony looked around the rather nice living room for a while as Meg stewed; then…replied somewhat vacuously, "Yup".
Meg snorted derisively.
"So…with Rabb being vegetarian…" Tony remarked, he knew damned well how annoying that he could be and was milking it for all it was worth. "…I presume I'm going to have to get Uncle Vincenzo to come down and drop off some tenderloin…cause I don't eat grass…" his smirk was designed to get on Rabb's nerves.
If eye contact could kill, Tony would have been a smoking, charred corpse on the floor. Harm locked eyes with him and growled; "My meatless meatloaf has been known to exact gastronomical revenge…" he implied with obvious menace.
"So, I've heard…" Tony remarked casually. "It's well-known along the Beltway." He smirked. "The last time you dumped one over-cooked into a dumpster, they could see the trail of cockroaches running to Capitol Heights away from said dumpster. Like I said, Rabb, I don't eat vegetarian…so I'm not. You'll just have to live with it…"
"…or I could throw you out." Harm opined.
Animal and Lia's home
Animal looked over at his wife as Lia cooked dinner. "So, what do you suspect that Koloshenko's going to do? Judging from your fascination with behavioral analysis; that is…" Lia had always been fascinated by the behavioral sciences and its connection with criminal behavior. If she hadn't been more fascinated by law, she probably would have joined the FBI and went into their behavioral sciences unit.
"Hard to say, really." Lia replied after some thought, while stir-frying some vegetables and rice. "We know that he's capable of killing. We know that he's probably going to kill again. Right now he's going around the perimeter of Harm's acquaintances…but eventually he's going to get around to going after those who are nearest to him." She paused her analysis as she finished the stir-fried vegetables dropping the heat down to "keep warm"; Taking a frying pan, turning the heat up to max on the gas burner, she lubricated it with melted butter, and then threw some chicken strips on it – the instant heat causing the meat to sizzle. "He's going to be a serial killer; but his motivation is revenge on those who he thinks have wronged him. He frankly thinks that Harm has wronged him and his revenge is taking out those closest to him. The peripheral murders are going to be as a warning for those closest to him to be on guard. He wants people frightened of what he's going to do." When the chicken finished cooking she put the strips in with the stir-fry. She finished the stir-fry, turned the heat off and then looked over at Animal. "…and I am frightened." She admitted softly, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I'm afraid that he's going to come after you…and I won't be there…to be able to stop him – that I'll lose you…because of that bastard's want for revenge." She stepped away from the oven and reached for him, her arms going around his neck as she gripped him tight.
"You won't." Animal said, instinctively hugging Liandra as she nestled into his arms. "There's nothing I want more than to be able to put two bullets in him center-mass. Not because he's threatening us but because he's frightening you."
AJ Chegwidden's residence; McLean, VA
Rear Admiral AJ Chegwidden quietly opened his gun-locker as he sought out the rifle that he had used for many years in the service – in the Teams – his prized Remington 700 bolt action sniper rifle with the matte black Choate Ultimate Sniper Stock. The rear admiral knew the dangers of engaging a lethal Foreign Intelligence Directorate sweeper, but as a formerly designated sniper in the Teams, he was certainly capable of tracking down his target and killing him without the target even knowing that he was engaged.
While cleaning his sniper rifle, AJ read the dossier that he had brow-beat Clayton Webb into giving up. It formed a perfect little profile that AJ could use to track the sonofabitch down. He was deep into studying Koloshenko's psychological profile, when a knock at the door, caused him to look up. Picking up his M9 Beretta, he pulled the slide back, chambering a round, and then stood to the side of the door, in wait. "Who is it!" he barked out readying his sidearm.
"AJ, it's Gibbs…" the voice called back.
AJ was smart, he knew that anybody could say he was Agent Gibbs, so unlocking the door and stepping away farther into the shadows of the hallway, he called out. "The door's open…step inside…put your weapon on the floor." and made sure his Beretta was covering the door. He relaxed incrementally as he saw Leroy Jethro Gibb's familiar form slip inside the door; and then crouching down to put his Sig on the floor.
"Kick it over, then we'll talk…" AJ said as he stepped out of the shadows about ten feet away, his Beretta still pointed at Gibb's head.
"You know I could haul you in for pointing a weapon at a federal agent." Gibbs said casually.
AJ retorted. "Yeah…so sue me. Considering the news you gave me at Rabb's wedding, you don't think I'm a little suspicious of anyone right now?"
Gibbs panned over the lethal tableau in front of him in Chegwidden's living room, his eyes not skipping over the Remington 700 sniper rifle propped up near the coffee table, the Beretta in AJ's hand. He instantly knew in his mind what the admiral was about to do. "Don't do it…" he said. "Ten CIA agents tried to go after Ivan…that's why there are ten stars on the CIA's wall. Mikhail is just as lethal as his father was; probably even more so as his father trained him to be a chameleon. After all, he hid in plain sight for over twenty-five years." He looked over at AJ and could feel the mounting rage in the admiral's demeanor.
"That bastard tricked me!" AJ exploded. "I trusted him and he turns out to be…this?" he pointed at the open dossier on Koloshenko sitting on his coffee table. "He kills a US Navy admiral and you expect me to let him get away with it?"
"Let the professionals go after him. AJ…" Gibbs said.
"Not going to happen…" AJ replied; the tone of his voice telling Gibbs that AJ wasn't going to back down on this point at all. "I'm not going to sit here and wait until Koloshenko gets around to killing each of us, one by one. I intend to make him nervous and jumpy. I intend to make it so that he doesn't know where it's coming from."
"I guess whatever I say won't stop you, AJ…" Gibbs responded grimly. "Just make damned sure that I don't have to say a eulogy over your grave. I'm going to have to be hands off, but I can feed you some information if we can track down where he's hid and if he pops out again."
Animal and Lia's home; next morning
Animal hugged Liandra as they both got ready for work. Animal had a meeting at the Pentagon with Vice-Admiral Hadfield to go over the weapons project. She saw her husband fastening his sidearm to his uniform with the web-belt and the terrible nature of the measures that they had to ensure to protect themselves with hit her emotionally. Impulsively, she hugged him hard as his hands came away from the now buckled web-belt and wrapped around her waist. "I don't like this…at all…" she murmured softly as she looked at her husband.
"Lia…" he whispered in her hair as they held their embrace. "We can't let this throw us off. We need to be alert; not frightened. If we're frightened, we'll freeze if we're attacked. And the last thing I intend is for that bastard to make us into frightened little mice." He grinned at her. "Since when was I ever frightened into immobility?" he asked.
She smirked, feeling better; as she lifted her head, leaning in and kissing his lips. She whispered huskily, "Probably…our wedding night…" she grinned cheekily.
"First time, huh?" He grinned warmly as he ran his fingers through her hair. "…for both of us…" he finished as he kissed her hungrily. Noticing the clock out of the corner of his eye, he reluctantly let her go. "…maybe we can continue this, this evening after we get back…" he whispered. "Otherwise, I'll be late…"
"I love you, Tosh…" she whispered softly, just loud enough that he could hear.
"I love you too, Lia…" he returned, as he picked his cover up, giving her a jaunty smile and heading out the door.
As the door closed, Lia whispered. "God…keep him safe for me…" as she got herself ready for work.
Meg and Harm's Apartment, Reston, VA
"OW!" Tony complained as he rolled off the couch onto the floor. The back of his head hurt and that wasn't from hitting the floor as he looked up to see Gibbs standing over him.
"What the hell were you doing asleep? DiNozzo." Gibbs looked over at him with a sour expression on his face. "When I tell you you're on protection duty, you should be guzzling coffee like there's no tomorrow. What if Koloshenko got in here?"
"Then I wouldn't be alive to get my head concussed, would I?" Tony muttered and received another cuff to the back of the head. "OW!"
Harm walked out of the bedroom as Gibbs administered another disciplinary cuff to the back of the head of Tony DiNozzo and smirked. "Gibbs…you sure you want to continue doing that? His brain cells are on the endangered species red-list." Meg followed him out, both fully dressed and ready for the day.
"Ha Ha…very funny…" Tony muttered as he shook his head.
"You're not going anywhere…" Gibbs stated to Meg. "Admiral Chegwidden has indicated that you're on leave as of now…until pending further orders." Gibbs turned to Harm "As did your admiral…Admiral Nakamura has indicated that you're on leave as well…" he paused looking over at the disgusted looks on both Harm's and Meg's faces. "You need anything - we get it for you, you need to go for anything, one of us goes with you. You're under protective custody…and that's the way it's going to be…" He discounted the you gotta be kidding me expressions on both their faces. "…don't have to like it, but it's for your own safety."
I-80, approaching Cheyenne, WY
It was relatively easy to get out of Washington, DC. A quick stop at a car rental place where a credit card in the name of Marek Novák got him a silver Toyota Corolla which he indicated that he was going to be returning the vehicle to the rental office on the West Coast. A quick look at the dossier allowed him to pin-point the target's latest assignment. It was a RLSO JAG office at NAS Fallon in Nevada. She lived off-base; all the better to keep her intimate liaisons secretive from the prying eyes of superior officers on base. In 8 years she hadn't changed a single bit, Koloshenko thought to himself. Still preying on younger officers, trying to get a leg up on her career; well, all that was going to change for the commander. She had been passed over for her O-6 and she was starting to spiral out of control.
"Zhalkiye zhenshchina…" he muttered to himself. She was a pathetic woman, too enamored of her own sexuality and her career. He planned to put her out of her misery but how to do it? Considering her disdain of him, she wouldn't give him a second glance. Considering the APB put out on his Navy pseudonym as well as his Russian real name, he couldn't use either, nor could he get on the base. He would have to watch her comings and goings for at least a week to gain familiarity with her movements before striking. And off-base was just as good of a target area and much quicker to get away from.
Pulling into the drive-thru of a Burger King, Koloshenko grinned. It wasn't too much off the highway and he needed to eat anyways. Grabbing a Whopper and a Coke, he parked in the farthest corner of the BK parking lot and ate his food. When he was done, he discarded the wrapper in the bag and placed it on the floorboards of the car, he would dispose of it later at another BK along the way. Getting back on to I-80, he continued on his way.
JAG Detachment Office; NAS Fallon, NV
Captain Allison Krennick despised Captain Jonathan Isamu Fujimoto, United States Navy; the JAG detachment office commanding officer. He was a no-nonsense staff officer who did not stand for any deviations from the rule of law. In his mind there was the UCMJ and then there was Jon's Law which was even tougher than the Uniform Code of Military Justice. And Lord help anyone who crossed Jon's Law. As far as Allison Krennick was concerned, the United States Navy didn't run on the Bushido code. After all, the Bushido code was what the United States fought against at Midway and at Guadalcanal. But then again, JAG didn't run on what Allison Krennick regarded as the norm either. At first she had tried to ingratiate herself with CAPT Fujimoto, but when that didn't work, she plotted to take over his command position, working in the background with several others who didn't approve of Captain Fujimoto's command authority. Sure she was only on investigation, the trail of the case that she was currently working on to gain enough evidence to try those responsible for the accident at Pax River. She had unearthed a minefield here and frankly that made her think that it was quite possible that she would get first chair over Harm's blonde bimbo of a wife.
Considering the fact that Captain Fujimoto saw right through Allison's plotting, it was obvious to him that she was a schemer; he was a patient man but just as conniving as Krennick if crossed. He was giving her just enough rope to hang herself. Not to mention there was an IG snoop coming around the office in a few days. He had enough evidence of her misdeeds and short-cuts on her legal cases to have her transferred to NAVO and have her measuring ocean temperatures in the Aleutians for the rest of her Navy career. Fujimoto had seen her Navy dossier and the FITREPS coming from her previous COs hadn't impressed him very much. As far as he was concerned, she had brown-nosed her way to senior officer rank and that was something that didn't bode well for her continued stay here as a JAG officer. Evidently she was assigned to JAG HQ. Either the admiral hadn't seen fit to discipline her for her behavior or he just wanted an annoyance of an officer out of his hair, but the fact that this Captain was . But Captain Fujimoto wouldn't put up with a conniving, manipulative and edge-skirting officer in his command and he planned to do something about it.
Meg and Harm's Apartment, Reston, VA
"SO YOU'RE TELLING ME WE'RE STUCK HERE!" Harm's voice rattled the walls; his 6'4" frame leaned forward in a threatening gesture as Gibbs gave him a look that denoted that he wasn't the slightest bit intimidated. "WE'RE CAPTIVES IN OUR OWN HOME!"
"All depends on your point of view, Captain Rabb." Gibbs replied. "But consider it a chance to get to know your new bride better without having to worry about work. We'll find Koloshenko."
"You'd damned well…better…" Harm growled, his tone menacing as he took a step forward. "I don't intend to be cooped up in this apartment for the rest of my life. There's too many people depending on Koloshenko being captured for me to take this sitting down."
Child Protective Services; Safe House, Roanoke, VA
The house was located across the street from a coffee-house and Vlad Golovin opted to sit in the coffee-house, unobstrusively reading a paper, yet being able to keep an eye on the girl. His contact in the Foreign Ministry office indicated that there would be someone there to help him in that – the girl's adoptive uncle, a Comrade Zhukov who would be showing up at some point. "Yerunda, Eto bylo meshok der'ma" he muttered inaudibly under his breath. He had no idea who or what he was up against. He had no idea who was chasing after this girl – all he knew was that it was his responsibility to ensure that no harm came to this child. He felt the comforting weight of his Makarov hidden in his conceal-carry hip-holster.
He knew when someone not familiar with the coffee house in Roanoke came in; the uncertain steps, the furtive looking around for someone; the suspicion emanating from the individual. A raised eyebrow from Golovin was noted, and the man walked over to him. Quietly he said in English, "Greetings." The softly accented okanye of Central Russia was evident in his enunciation of speech, even in English. "Vy iz Pskova?...Quietly…"
"Yes…" the man said. "Your name?"
"Vladimir…" he extended a hand. "Grew up in Virginia. I am waiting here for a sign." A slight tenseness from his handshake indicated to the man that he needed to give Golovin the clear signal.
"Vy skuchayete po rodine? (Do you miss the motherland?)" That was the signal.
"Da, no pogoda meneye surovym i khokkey namnogo luchshe. (The weather is milder and the hockey is much better…)" Vlad returned. The other man chuckled.
"It is, most definitely, from what I could see of it on the television." The other man chuckled. "My contact is at the hotel. I will let him know what you tell me and we will coordinate our rescue of our contact's niece."
Vlad nodded. "And who do I refer to when I speak of you to my superiors…"
"Vasili… Eto imya vse, chto vam nuzhno znat', poka ne prishlo vremya dlya nas, chtoby deystvovat'. (That is all you need to know until it is time to act." The man replied.
"Very well. Vasili… I shall await your return." Vlad replied. Vasili nodded, got up from his chair and left the coffee house.
The Star Bar & Dining Room; Elko, NV
A two-story red brick and frame building; the Star wasn't much to look at, but the price was right and the owner of the place didn't ask questions. After a quick bite to eat, he went back to the hotel that he rented a room from that night. The breeze felt weird on his shaved head, the wind through the mesh backing of the ball-cap he wore. He had put on a fake mustache with the help of his theatrical make-up case. The mustache was so realistic it hadn't warranted a second look from people and that's how he liked it.
Koloshenko rested a while at his hotel at the Best Western Elko Inn, where he had signed in as a Maxim Espen Petersen. He looked like he could pass for a Nordic individual and he was trained in imitating various accents at Vinnytsia. In fact he was trained to act not only American, but could pass for an immigrant – his chameleon-like nature designed to outwit anyone who tried to track him. For now he would rest and recharge, then make the final trip to Fallon, NV at checkout at ten in the morning.
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