NCIS: Jethro's Secret
"The Morgue."
Jethro grabbed a pen in a hurry. He obscurely scribbled 2 lines and handed a paper over to McGee. He nodded at Gibbs and immediately started searching for DiNozzo’s cell phone. Kate was on a quest to find all information on John Nettles.
John was droning on. His words were interlaced with short breaths and DiNozzo’s taps on the ladder. Tony wanted to grab Gibbs’s attention by tapping louder; banging the handcuffs on the steel rung.
Jethro ignored John’s monologue, his monotone yet intermittent voice and focused his suspicious mind on DiNozzo’s craving for attention.
“What are you trying to tell me, DiNozzo?” Jethro was trying to figure out, captured in a maze of his own thoughts. With a disgruntled look on his face, he was falling through a mist of ignorance. Small transparent drops of sweat on his forehead indicated his anxiety.
“Morse code.” It pounded on his brain. Those 2 words made a crescent shaped impression on his face. He smiled.
He grabbed a blue pen and noted DiNozzo’s taps down on the very first shred of paper he glanced at – the yellow envelope.
“Di-dit-dah, dit, dah-dah, dah-dah-dah,” Gibbs was scribbling down, holding the phone so close to his ear.
“U E M O,” he encrypted the Morse code.
“DiiiiiiNozzoooo!” Gibbs twitched on a sound of John’s raised voice. “Has anyone ever told you what a nuisance you are?”
An unexpected blow was reverberating in Gibbs’s mind, leaving him motionless. Like a perfectly designed mosaic of thoughts shattered in numerous of pieces.
The taps have suddenly stopped. The neon light that was swaying above DiNozzo’s head, making a squeaky sound, lost its blinded shine. The blood, bouncing off the floor and sprinkling Tony’s shoes, was the only sound left. John had paused his breathing.
“DiNozzo!” Gibbs shouted over the phone. “DiNozzo,” he flustered.
“See you at his funeral, Jethro. I’ll be watching.” John said stretching the vowels, making sure that Gibbs had understood each word.
He hung up.
“DiNozzo!” Gibbs yelled.
There was no answer. Only a dreary beeping sound indicating that the connection has been lost.
“Gibbs,” Kate interrupted his hidden, remorseful emotions. Trying to wipe his dull look away, she came to him saying:
“DiNozzo is way too much of an annoyance to get hurt.”
Gibbs didn’t reply, just kept biting a lip, blaming himself for DiNozzo’s disappearance.
“John Nettles…,” Kate continued, reading her scratches from a printed sheet of paper. “…was born in Boston, on April 2nd 1955, put up for adoption a the age of 10-“
“Kate!” Gibbs hackled. “I’m not gonna adopt that son of a bitch. Skip that part,” Gibbs said anticipating a relevant grain of information.
“A former petty officer, dismissed from the Navy and sentenced to life for a murder of a senior special agent. A medical repost says that he spent 2 weeks in jail hospital, recovering from two gun shots; one in a kneecap, the other in his chest.”
“Kate,” Gibbs interrupted. “I know. I was there. I shot him. Twice. Now skip it already.”
McGee and Kate were gaping at each other. Dense accelerated breaths and thoughts; dense confusing looks, wrapped the room.
“McGee, you’re scaring me,” Gibbs said looking at him. “Close your mouth, you’re dribbling.”
McGee didn’t have a chance to talk back, nor dared to. He closed his mouth and wept the liquid off his lips.
“Gibbs, we need to know more about that event from the past,” Kate said emphasizing the word past.
“There’s nothing left to say. You said everything, Kate. I shot him twice in a self defense, 20 years ago. Now that bastard son’s got DiNozzo. He wants to settle the score by killing Tony using the same modus operandiI did on him – shooting him twice, in a kneecap and his chest.”
Gibbs sighed.
“Gibbs, it’s not your fault. He’s a mentally disturbed person who takes pleasure is people’s pain. DiNozzo can be a pain in the neck but you’ve taught him everything he knows, he won’t give up, Gibbs. He’ll smart that psycho out,” Kate was caught up in a sensible moment, encouraging Gibbs, encouraging McGee, and finally, encouraging herself.
“Boss, I traced DiNozzo’s cell phone. I found it on the parking lot nearby the Headquarters. And a paper cup of coffee underneath a blue BMW,” McGee glanced at his scribbles. “Further, I found traces of a spilled coffee and a few drops of blood, which I gave to Abby.”
“Well done, McGee,” Gibbs winked at him, catching a big smile on his face.
“Has she analyzed-”
“Gibbs, I’m behind you, you don't have to talk about me like we’re on the opposite sides of a soundproof glass.”
“Abby,” Gibbs cut in on her monologue. “Skip the intro!”
“Yes, Gibbs, it’s DiNozzo’s blood,” she said holding her head down, retrieving slowly to the lab.
A panic captured the hearts of the four. Sudden, anxious movements and gloomy expressions made the Headquarters seem like a fount of mass confusion. A mass denial; not accepting the images of reality.
Gibbs was staring at 4 letters that made no sense. No sense at all.
“U E M O,” he was repeating loudly. “DiNozzo, what are you trying to tell us?”
“Boss, I don’t think that ‘UE’ has a meaning itself, maybe we should try with a syllable ‘MO’,” McGee elaborated in a clear voice.
“MO… MO… What the hell is-… MORGUE!” Gibbs shouted bursting with enthusiasm. “DiNozzo was tapping morgue.
John was droning on. His words were interlaced with short breaths and DiNozzo’s taps on the ladder. Tony wanted to grab Gibbs’s attention by tapping louder; banging the handcuffs on the steel rung.
Jethro ignored John’s monologue, his monotone yet intermittent voice and focused his suspicious mind on DiNozzo’s craving for attention.
“What are you trying to tell me, DiNozzo?” Jethro was trying to figure out, captured in a maze of his own thoughts. With a disgruntled look on his face, he was falling through a mist of ignorance. Small transparent drops of sweat on his forehead indicated his anxiety.
“Morse code.” It pounded on his brain. Those 2 words made a crescent shaped impression on his face. He smiled.
He grabbed a blue pen and noted DiNozzo’s taps down on the very first shred of paper he glanced at – the yellow envelope.
“Di-dit-dah, dit, dah-dah, dah-dah-dah,” Gibbs was scribbling down, holding the phone so close to his ear.
“U E M O,” he encrypted the Morse code.
“DiiiiiiNozzoooo!” Gibbs twitched on a sound of John’s raised voice. “Has anyone ever told you what a nuisance you are?”
An unexpected blow was reverberating in Gibbs’s mind, leaving him motionless. Like a perfectly designed mosaic of thoughts shattered in numerous of pieces.
The taps have suddenly stopped. The neon light that was swaying above DiNozzo’s head, making a squeaky sound, lost its blinded shine. The blood, bouncing off the floor and sprinkling Tony’s shoes, was the only sound left. John had paused his breathing.
“DiNozzo!” Gibbs shouted over the phone. “DiNozzo,” he flustered.
“See you at his funeral, Jethro. I’ll be watching.” John said stretching the vowels, making sure that Gibbs had understood each word.
He hung up.
“DiNozzo!” Gibbs yelled.
There was no answer. Only a dreary beeping sound indicating that the connection has been lost.
“Gibbs,” Kate interrupted his hidden, remorseful emotions. Trying to wipe his dull look away, she came to him saying:
“DiNozzo is way too much of an annoyance to get hurt.”
Gibbs didn’t reply, just kept biting a lip, blaming himself for DiNozzo’s disappearance.
“John Nettles…,” Kate continued, reading her scratches from a printed sheet of paper. “…was born in Boston, on April 2nd 1955, put up for adoption a the age of 10-“
“Kate!” Gibbs hackled. “I’m not gonna adopt that son of a bitch. Skip that part,” Gibbs said anticipating a relevant grain of information.
“A former petty officer, dismissed from the Navy and sentenced to life for a murder of a senior special agent. A medical repost says that he spent 2 weeks in jail hospital, recovering from two gun shots; one in a kneecap, the other in his chest.”
“Kate,” Gibbs interrupted. “I know. I was there. I shot him. Twice. Now skip it already.”
McGee and Kate were gaping at each other. Dense accelerated breaths and thoughts; dense confusing looks, wrapped the room.
“McGee, you’re scaring me,” Gibbs said looking at him. “Close your mouth, you’re dribbling.”
McGee didn’t have a chance to talk back, nor dared to. He closed his mouth and wept the liquid off his lips.
“Gibbs, we need to know more about that event from the past,” Kate said emphasizing the word past.
“There’s nothing left to say. You said everything, Kate. I shot him twice in a self defense, 20 years ago. Now that bastard son’s got DiNozzo. He wants to settle the score by killing Tony using the same modus operandiI did on him – shooting him twice, in a kneecap and his chest.”
Gibbs sighed.
“Gibbs, it’s not your fault. He’s a mentally disturbed person who takes pleasure is people’s pain. DiNozzo can be a pain in the neck but you’ve taught him everything he knows, he won’t give up, Gibbs. He’ll smart that psycho out,” Kate was caught up in a sensible moment, encouraging Gibbs, encouraging McGee, and finally, encouraging herself.
“Boss, I traced DiNozzo’s cell phone. I found it on the parking lot nearby the Headquarters. And a paper cup of coffee underneath a blue BMW,” McGee glanced at his scribbles. “Further, I found traces of a spilled coffee and a few drops of blood, which I gave to Abby.”
“Well done, McGee,” Gibbs winked at him, catching a big smile on his face.
“Has she analyzed-”
“Gibbs, I’m behind you, you don't have to talk about me like we’re on the opposite sides of a soundproof glass.”
“Abby,” Gibbs cut in on her monologue. “Skip the intro!”
“Yes, Gibbs, it’s DiNozzo’s blood,” she said holding her head down, retrieving slowly to the lab.
A panic captured the hearts of the four. Sudden, anxious movements and gloomy expressions made the Headquarters seem like a fount of mass confusion. A mass denial; not accepting the images of reality.
Gibbs was staring at 4 letters that made no sense. No sense at all.
“U E M O,” he was repeating loudly. “DiNozzo, what are you trying to tell us?”
“Boss, I don’t think that ‘UE’ has a meaning itself, maybe we should try with a syllable ‘MO’,” McGee elaborated in a clear voice.
“MO… MO… What the hell is-… MORGUE!” Gibbs shouted bursting with enthusiasm. “DiNozzo was tapping morgue.