(bird cawing)
It's beautiful.
Awesome.
It looks just like every other one we sell.
Yes, but this one costs one-third the price.
Shouldn't we buy American-made products, not overseas knockoffs?
Price gouging is rampant in the funeral market.
It's the only way to change the system.
Listen to your brother and help him unload the last ones.
Daddy's boy.
The casket market will continue to be run by "The Big Three" until small funeral home owners come together.
(chuckles)
We must think outside the pine box.
Daughter: Dad?
You don't like my gallows humor?
Dad, get in here.
♪ ♪
Is there damage?
Not exactly.
Someone's been living back here.
That explains the smell.
Still think international shipping is worth saving a buck?
Son: At least they're already gone.
And they only opened one box.
Well, thank goodness, it doesn't look damaged.
Oh, my God.
Son: Ugh!
They already come with customers.
That is a good deal.
Gallows humor.
♪ NCIS 13x21 ♪
Return to Sender
Original Air Date on April 19, 2016
♪ ♪
(elevator bell dings)
(sighs) It was supposed to be fun.
I know. It started out that way.
Bishop: I know.
Why am I now questioning my very own existence?
Ooh.
What happened in here?
Someone leave religious tracts on your desk?
Bishop: I'm helping Tim apartment hunt.
A new place is supposed to mark new life, new goals, personal evolution.
Yes.
Not a sandpit of crushing self-realization.
No.
Tony: Mm.
That expensive, huh?
Super.
Ridiculous.
I mean, it's not like Delilah and I are looking for Downton Abbey, you know, but, I mean, something with a little bit of space, maybe close to a park, would be nice.
I recently downsized and ended up paying more.
Yeah, that's a bummer.
Hey, did you ever notice in the elevator that the vacuum marks go in two different directions?
(chuckling): It's kind of interesting.
You have nothing to add to our conversation?
Uh... no. I like my place.
Well, of course you do.
It's beautiful and spacious.
Yeah, with a view.
The doorman can be cranky.
How much do you pay?
Huh? Come on, that's personal.
Over three grand though?
(scoffs) Three diesels? I can't afford that.
A place like yours wouldn't go for under three even if the doorman were a giant cockroach.
Senior told me that there's two things you should never discuss at work-- mortgage payments are the second.
Uh, what? You own?
Cat's out of the bag. (chuckles)
It's a pretty funny story, uh, actually.
Not ha-ha funny, but, uh...
Wait a second, you had that place before I got to NCIS, so you purchased it when you were a probie?
Bishop: How?
Loan from your dad?
Generous cougar?
Dead body. At the mortuary.
Tony: Not exactly a news flash, boss.
Gibbs: Let's go.
Grab your gear.
So what's the deal?
Was it an inheritance or...?
(scoffs)
(camera shutter clicking)
(siren whooping)
It takes two weeks for shipping containers to cross the Atlantic.
And no shuffleboard on the lido deck.
Just pillows, junk food and a few fashion magazines.
Which is pretty much nirvana.
For me anyway.
Others might go crazy.
Like our victim.
Yeah.
No obvious cause of death.
Could have been from boredom.
Metro pulled, uh, an I.D. out of her pocket.
Name is Sandra Billingsley.
A guard at Prickwillow Prison in England.
Sounds like a Dickens novel. Love the British.
Doesn't explain why she's living in a sea container.
These might.
These are prison jumpsuits.
Are we looking at the bad end of a prison escape?
Mortuary owner: We are a family business.
Uh, an American business.
And we support other American businesses.
Usually.
We pass our savings along to our customers.
Always.
Container was opened before it arrived?
I assumed the customs inspectors broke the seal, but now...
We never saw anybody go in or out.
Huh. Okay.
Thank you.
Hey.
Our dead prison guard was taken hostage in a prison break three weeks ago.
NCA.
British National Crime Agency and Interpol both thought the fugitives were still in Europe. Oops.
Boss, we got info on our two missing prisoners.
Uh, the first one is Cassio Chavez.
m*rder conviction three years ago.
And former MI6 officer Jacob Scott.
Tony: Espionage in '02.
Real-life spy.
Our dead body, both prisoners, all Brits.
I bring it up because there's no Navy connection, so why are we here?
Fornell: Professional courtesy.
Gibbs.
Hello, Tobias.
I thought you'd want to know because NCIS are the ones who put Jacob Scott in prison.
Yeah, uh, we were just getting to that part.
Evidently now he is a m*rder*r, too.
But that's just the bad news.
What's the good news?
I'm gonna put him back for you.
Domestic manhunt.
Obviously FBI jurisdiction.
This is my case.
Great.
You couldn't have just e-mailed?
I wore a hat.
Now I got to do my hair again.
It's always good to see you, Gibbs.
If you don't mind, I have to find your missing k*ller.
Tony: Two prisoners escaped from Prickwillow Prison outside London.
During a routine prison transfer, they took a guard hostage and stole the transport van, found dumped near River Blackwater.
When in fact they were headed to the Port of Felixstowe, where they boarded the Maelstrom Adventure bound for Norfolk.
Less than three percent of all containers entering the U.S. are scanned by customs.
Thank you for that fun fact.
You're welcome.
Tony: Once our cons made port, a hostage was no longer required.
So they likely k*lled her.
Parole board may frown on that.
Throw that onto their life sentences.
Cassio Chavez m*rder*d his own mother after she flushed his heroin stash.
And our British spy?
Jacob Scott, former MI6, caught selling U.S. nuclear Intel to Russia.
Caught by us, NCIS.
He stole Navy info that we shared with British allies post 9/11.
Bad time, bad man.
Hey, speaking of, uh, 2001, I pulled some of the public real estate records from northwest DC.
Didn't someone we know buy an apartment back then?
McGee: Yes, and in fact if we adjust for inflation, Tony still paid way below market value.
How "way"?
Wow "way."
Explains how you can afford it, Tony, but not how you managed it. Who did you con?
What part of "FBI case" was unclear?
(chuckles)
Tony: It's just for our edification.
You looking for a fight, DiNozzo?
No, not particularly. Are you?
A little bit.
Well, you got one.
Director's office, now.
Fornell: Why involve a third party?
Why don't we settle this right here?
Bring it on, Gramps.
What year were you born?
Gibbs: Keep working.
♪ ♪
I asked Homeland Senior Division Chief Morrow to join us.
Great, another agency.
Vance: Because, as you may remember, Agent Fornell, Chief Morrow was formerly director of NCIS.
Morrow: When we put Jacob Scott behind bars.
Something that I'd hoped would be permanent.
Blame the British.
I do.
It was NCIS Intel that led to Scott.
We handed him over to them for trial, as a favor to my British counterpart.
Saved face.
No.
They missed a leak in their own house.
Now that he's on the run again, it looks twice as bad.
We'll keep the damage minimal.
(cell phone rings)
Morrow: No, there's no expiration date on political capital, Leon.
For both of us.
Excuse me.
Mm-hmm.
Morrow: This is Morrow.
FBI has primary jurisdiction for all crimes in which state borders have been crossed.
Yeah, I'm aware.
Oh, good, because for a minute there, I thought we were throwing out 107 years of precedent.
That same precedent also says, "except cases in which jurisdiction has been assigned to another agency."
And as it turns out, Agent Fornell, this one has been.
You already talked to my boss.
Yes.
NCIS now has the lead.
Hey, Tobias.
Did you know about this?
Eh, cut the act.
What?
Calling us to the crime scene.
"Courtesy" my ass.
You wanted us to fight for this case.
(laughs): Yes. Yes, I did.
Are you kidding me?
International and state borders?
It's a paperwork nightmare.
Why not just ask for help?
Wouldn't look good.
(laughing): Anyway, tell me how it turns out.
Agent Fornell, you didn't give me an opportunity to finish.
Your director and I both agreed that an FBI presence is still required, so you'll be riding shotgun.
Bishop: I know this is hard for you, and we'll be in touch.
Thank you.
(phone beeps off)
Victim's family?
No, our prison guard has no next of kin.
Her parents are gone, and her sister d*ed in a car crash last year.
No one to claim the body.
Not yet.
So who were you consoling on the phone back there?
Cassio Chavez Sr. the father of our convicted m*rder*r.
Huh.
Dad blames the dr*gs and is worried Cassio will start using again.
Okay, I'm confused.
What exactly does he want?
He wants us to find his escaped son as fast as we can.
Devoted father.
Claims to be, but I looked him up.
Oh, Daddy used to work at the port.
Felixstowe, where our prisoners boarded the cargo ship.
Might explain a lot.
Mm-hmm. Getting past security, getting on the ship.
No easy task.
Unless they have an inside man.
Mm-hmm.
Ducky: Alcatraz,
Leavenworth, Guantanamo Bay.
When it comes to prisons, famous and infamous, the United States has a monopoly.
I doubt if anyone (elevator bell dings) outside the UK, apart from the Tower of London, could name a British (elevator bell dings) correctional facility.
Brixton.
Wandsworth.
Well, being former inmates disqualifies you from answering.
And why did they put you in different prisons?
You were both arrested for the same incident.
They drive on the wrong side of the road.
Nothing makes sense.
You got a cause of death, Duck?
Oh, you've arrived a little prematurely.
Cause of death has not yet been determined.
(faint jazz music plays)
(phone beeps)
New phone?
I am no longer a Luddite.
Since when?
Since now.
I still respect your beliefs, Gibbs, but they are no longer my own.
(faint jazz music plays)
I am trying new things.
(phone beeps)
With NCIS taking this case, I was supposed to have time for that kind of thing.
Ducky: Jethro, there is one item of interest.
These marks.
Needle marks.
Indeed.
There were a high level of progesterone in her preliminary blood work.
The hormone?
Yes.
Commonly injected into women who are trying to get pregnant.
Sadly, this young lady will never have a family.
McGee: Unlike Cassio, former MI6 Officer Jacob Scott has no living family.
And anyone connected to him had basically turned their backs.
Treason will do that.
Apparently no ties to anyone in England, America.
No friends, no followers, no minions, nobody.
Come on, even Caligula had a horse.
After murdering most of his human friends, the emperor made his horse a Roman senator.
Easier to trust a horse.
Why are we talking about horses?
Trying to find out who Jacob Scott might know in the U.S.
Prison logs-- any visitors?
Uh, his defense team and reporters mostly.
Last visitor was over five years ago.
Name is Miranda Okafor.
Gibbs: Background.
(phone rings)
Yeah, Fornell.
This is interesting. Look at this, boss.
Hmm, a green card.
Miranda Okafor is an immigrant.
From the UK.
Came to America five years ago.
Now owns a laser tag franchise in Alexandria.
The Lazer Zone.
That's exactly right.
Scott's fingerprints have been found at a second crime scene.
Gibbs: Let's go-- you're with me, Butternut.
I will pull up driving directions.
Did Agent Fornell (elevator bell dings) get a new phone?
Robotic voice: Welcome, future crime fighters!
I hate places like these.
Give me the willies.
Image captured!
(groans)
Don't forget your I.D. card!
What the hell was that?
Oh, yeah, that's a good look for you, Tobias.
You're just jealous.
Please report to your battle stations!
(indistinct radio transmission)
Fornell: No longer just a prison break.
It gets worse.
Fornell: Mm, it's our British laser tag owner, Miranda Okafor.
Tag, she's it.
(rapid beeping)
Here you go, sir.
What's this?
Medical report.
I told you to wait until the NCIS M.E. got here!
It's their crime scene.
I don't want to see any files on my desk this weekend.
Where's the rest of your team?
You all right, Tobias?
Yeah, I just... might have some plans this weekend.
What kind of plans?
Two g*nshots to both bodies, all from close range.
Execution. No m*rder w*apon.
We got two sets of prints matching those of our escaped convicts.
Bodies. The male is Max Allinson-- he's the janitor.
Female is our owner-- Miranda Okafor.
No rigor.
Dead less than two hours then.
Yeah.
Jacob Scott has a head start, but not much.
Why were they here?
Tony: Got something!
(beeping)
Course perimeter is lined with sensors so if a player steps out of bounds, a blast vest sounds an alarm.
(alarm beeping)
Robotic voice: Warning, you are out of bounds!
Okay, what's your point?
My point is why would this fence be out of bounds?
It's just a fence, right?
No.
Secret door.
And that closet door was open.
Keypad was busted.
Weapons are missing.
Fornell: Yeah, the real kind.
Explains what our prisoners wanted here.
Found these in the safe, but no cash.
Fully armed and funded.
So, who was Miranda Okafor?
Who keeps a spy stash in a laser tag arena?
Turns out the owner is former MI6.
"According to British S.I.S., Miranda Okafor retired five years ago, before she moved to the States and opened a laser zone."
Provocateur to entrepreneur.
She trained Jacob Scott.
Yeah, and visited him in prison.
They were friends. Why k*ll her?
Maybe she wasn't friend enough to keep quiet.
So... where did our jailbirds go?
I don't know, but till we have a straight answer, I think it's best we keep out of Gibbs' eye line.
And put the apartment hunt on hold?
Yeah.
When this was my office, I used to offer my guests a nice single malt.
What the hell is that?
It's more nutritious.
(scoffs)
What can I do for you, Leon?
If I'm not gonna get that drink, home is calling.
Jacob Scott hasn't exactly been keeping a low profile.
Now, the money I understand, but he could run without the extra firepower.
Unless he has other plans.
Like trying to get back into the espionage business?
Why not?
Scott spent 14 years in prison.
He's got nothing to sell.
He got to it once.
NCIS left no loose ends to pull, if that's what you're driving at.
Scott was a Navy Intel asset before there were SpecOps.
At MI6, he functioned at the highest level of security, especially for his age.
Until we got a tip from the CIA.
That he was selling nuclear Intel.
After 9/11, everyone was very interested in who had what.
Russia, Iraq, Iran.
Information was valuable.
And once you had Scott, NCIS went after his buyer, as well.
Nika Razin.
She worked at the Russian embassy in Turkey.
The raid went pear-shaped and she was k*lled.
Not ideal, but mission accomplished.
Meaning?
Scott had no family, now, no country, and with his buyer dead, no allies.
No loose ends.
And the Russians?
Hell, they denied all knowledge, of course.
The wounds took years to heal.
That is a scab not worth scratching, Leon.
Is that an order or a request, Tom?
Advice.
Keep me in the loop.
(faint jazz music plays)
(phone beeps)
Okay. (laughs)
Who is she?
The phone, the plans.
Are you dating again, Tobias?
Mm...
Okay.
And if I am?
Just tell me.
Okay, my sex life...
(laughs) Oh, God, just...
(elevator humming)
No.
You asked, and if you're gonna get all judgy about it, you might as well have the details.
"Judgy"?
I date women on my phone.
Using apps.
They click, I click, and then if we click...
You get the idea?
(elevator humming)
Online dating.
Probably your worst nightmare, isn't it?
No.
No, this conversation is.
(elevator bell dings, doors open)
Look, it's been over a year since Diane d*ed.
This...
(sighs)
(elevator bell dings)
Hey, got anything?
A bone to pick with the FBI.
Get in line.
Your examiner still hasn't released the bodies from the laser tag.
Anything else, Duck?
Yeah, how about a cause of death for your British prison guard?
Yeah, perfect.
Sandra Billingsley d*ed of asphyxia.
Strangled?
No.
Suffocated?
No, neither.
That would take just a matter of seconds.
Not long enough for her airways to became inflamed and swollen causing her surrounding muscles to contract, and her-her bronchial tubes (straining): to narrow.
Asthma att*ck?
Indeed.
Probably not uncommon for this woman, and usually she'd be able to manage it.
Except she had nowhere to go.
Trapped in a poorly ventilated box.
And that's probably what triggered the att*ck in the first place.
You know, sea containers are stacked tightly, one against the other.
I mean, all she could do was sit there, and slowly choke to death.
Could've taken hours or... even days.
It's still m*rder.
Unless... she was in that container by choice.
Abby: Which she was.
Back up.
I processed everything from inside the shipping container.
Everything?
Yeah, everything.
All two weeks worth.
Luckily, they planned well enough to bring buckets.
(groans)
Actually, they planned too well.
There was enough food, a duffle bag full of bottled water, there were pillows, blankets.
They even brought magazines.
Ooh, I know that.
Last month's issue of Fashion Fauxward.
Hilarious. Tina Fey-- so ironic.
My point is, how were they able to get all this stuff that quickly after they escaped and not get caught?
It's like it was...
Pre-packed.
Yeah. Yeah.
All right, check this out.
So the magazine has a torn address label on it.
Can't really make it out, but when you compare it to what we do know from Sandra Billingsley's London address...
Tony: Magazine belonged to her.
Yeah, so either our prisoners were kind enough to let their hostage go home and get some things, or...
So the prison guard wasn't a hostage.
Yeah, she was an accomplice.
Time to talk to the Brits.
It's 2:00 a.m. in London.
Prisons never close.
(elevator bell dings)
An accomplice?
I bet the prison warden wasn't too happy about that one.
Bishop: Nope.
He insisted on talking to Director Vance tomorrow morning.
Aw, nuts!
What's wrong?
I forgot to ask Tony to get extra garlic bread.
By the way, great idea, getting him out of the apartment.
It was your idea to watch The Lazer Zone security footage back here at his place.
I'm just surprised he went for it.
Well, I think Tony's actually enjoying this.
(phone chimes)
Ooh.
And he will be back any minute.
What'd you find?
The windows are brand-new, heater's brand-new, air conditioner: brand-new.
Which explains the tax credit for energy efficiency.
Making the utility bills practically nonexistent.
The more we dig, the more depressing this is.
Should we stop?
It's like we're missing something.
(quietly): Yeah.
(gasps): What about Stachybotrys chartarum?
No, I thought of that and negative. (sighs)
It's actually negative for all types of mold.
Hmm.
Well... other than the fact that this piano is in front of the double doors, there is nothing wrong with this place.
(sighs)
What are you doing?
I'm coveting.
Are we missing something?
You think Tony keeps his real estate statements here?
Wait, are you talking about breaking into his personal files?
It's not like he hasn't snooped on us.
That's true.
Mm.
Or maybe there's another way.
Maybe... we call in reinforcements.
McGee: I agree.
Look at this.
Bishop: Our prisoners, walking out after the murders.
Looks like they're splitting up.
Bishop: Which means we are now looking in two different directions.
(sighs)
I really need that garlic bread.
Where are you, Jacob Scott?
Cashier: Hi, welcome to Capitol Cruller...
(phone rings)
Yes, Pamela?
Sir, you have that 9:00 a.m. call in MTAC?
Well, I'm not pulling out now.
I've already ordered.
Uh, so they should start without you?
I will be there, damn it. I...
Look, I drink that green stuff every night.
I'm not giving up my morning donut.
It's the only thing I have left that has any taste.
Yes, sir.
But you did ask me to...
(call cuts to static)
To what?
Hello?
Hello?
Nice and easy.
I think you have the wrong car.
Keep it running.
Okay.
Your breakfast tea will have to wait today.
You're former agent Jacob Scott.
You followed me from my home.
The Internet's grown so much since I was away.
And never mind the chat-up... no one's coming to rescue you.
You can push that panic button all you like.
You have a cell phone jammer.
You're quick.
That'll help.
Now drive.
Think of your children.
Any luck?
Well... I got a dinner date.
Huh?
Yeah.
Tony's dad made me promise to have dinner with him before he told me anything about Tony's apartment history.
And?
And he has no idea how he got it so cheap.
Senior played me.
Rude.
Well, I haven't done much better here.
Beyond public property info, my Internet search has been a bust.
Well, Tony was a cop before NCIS.
Maybe he's got underworld connections? (elevator bell dings)
See, I think he only wants us to believe that.
Blackmail?
Did he actually get that lucky?
Neither. Neither.
Do both of you guys know the story here?
On the case. Got it.
A British prison break has left two convicted felons loose in the greater DC area.
They split up. And now that he's armed, Jacob Scott could be looking to get back into the spy game.
Okay. How?
These are all very good questions, boss.
I'm not looking for compliments.
BOLO's out, but there's no sign of Scott or Cassio since yesterday.
Not helping, Bishop.
Fornell: Well, we've got a prison worker who has aided in a prison escape. How about that?
Yes.
Her Majesty's Prison Service will be calling soon in MTAC.
Boss... the director's assistant said to start without him.
Should've led with that, Chucky.
(sighs)
I thought that nickname d*ed.
You mean, when my wife did?
Turn ahead.
What do you want?
You k*lled your only friend in the world, Miranda.
What happened?
Keep your hands on the wheel.
Can I help you?
You just did.
All right.
Take it.
Let's be done here.
I still need you.
And I'm not nearly done.
Tony: So what about on our laser tag arena owner?
She a British sleeper spy?
Abby: No.
I processed Michelle Okafor's computer, her cell phone, her office.
She is just totally committed to e-combat for children of all ages.
Using her very particular set of skills.
She came here to live her American dream.
And enjoy Second Amendment rights.
Yeah, but here's the thing: All of her weapons were legally purchased and licensed.
And locked in a hidden wall closet.
In a laser tag arena.
I'm not condoning it. I'm just saying, you know, our victim had no current ties to overseas.
If that's our laser tag owner, who's this lady next to Jacob Scott?
I was told I'd be speaking with Director Vance.
We appreciate you taking the time, Manager Grimm.
Naturally, Chief Morrow.
The name of one of my guards has be called into question.
It's not a question. It's fact.
It's a bit premature to fit the noose.
We're all officers of the law here.
You can holster that six-sh**t.
He must mean you.
Morrow: Agent Gibbs may be something of a cowboy, Manager, but I've worked with him for a long time.
He doesn't jump to conclusions.
Officer Billingsley would never willingly assist a traitor.
You don't have the full story.
We agree. Right, gentlemen?
We need her personal and professional records.
Everything you got.
Everything "we got" takes time.
And, how do you say... "Time is money"?
Then "give it some stick."
Very clever, Agent Gibbs.
But taking the Mickey out of us...
(static crackling)
System's restarting, sir.
I.P. protocols reset whenever a security breach is detected on the network.
She's saying it's a precaution.
No need to worry.
(faint jazz music plays)
Uh, sir?
Cell phones aren't permitted in here.
McGee. We've got a network security alert.
What the hell is it?
It wasn't me!
It was Courtney.
Which one was Courtney?
Oh, yeah... Courtney.
McGee: System restart was routine.
Internet resets in the whole building, but it wasn't triggered by Agent Fornell's cell phone.
Told ya.
It was triggered by an alert at a data center in Anacostia.
Gibbs: Ours.
NCIS accounting and personnel files, mostly non-classified data.
But someone accessed our records using a duress password.
Only used in the event someone's got a g*n to their head.
McGee: In a manner of speaking.
By who?
Director Vance.
Building secursaid that Vance's keycard was used to enter a private access room.
I think it's this door down here.
Is this good news or bad news?
♪ ♪
(beeps, latch clicks)
Leon?
Vance: In here, Gibbs!
Open the damn door!
(beeps, latch clicks)
You all right?
Yeah. Scott's gone.
Where?
No idea. He had me at gunpoint.
He used my keycard to steal Intel.
(knocking)
McGee, why the hell didn't my duress password shut down the system immediately?
It's a delayed alarm, Director.
Why?
If it had shut down immediately, he might just have sh*t you.
What did he get away with?
A single file.
It's not even classified.
And it's old. Really... really old.
This file's got to be worthless.
Not to him.
Bishop: The stolen case file is a list of six NCIS operatives involved in a joint MI6 operation in 2002.
Just names, no info.
A top sheet.
Practically useless without the full case file itself.
m*rder*d two people to steal it.
Why?
Jacob Scott could have just as easily disappeared, raised cats in Connecticut.
Is that a thing?
What was the operation in '02?
Juniper Strike.
Vance: And?
We only know as much as this top sheet says, and while the list wasn't classified, the operation it refers to is.
And since it's a joint operation, we'll need clearance from British S.I.S.
Gibbs?
I'd rather not wait, Director.
Me neither. Go.
Just to be clear, you want us to hack into the case files?
Got it.
(door closes)
(whistles)
(elevator bell dings)
(elevator bell dings)
(buzzes)
I figured it out.
(elevator bell dings)
Where the bad guys are hiding?
No, your apartment.
The giveaway was the fact that Gibbs, Fornell and Abby knew about it, so I figured it was case-related.
Good guess, Inspector Clouseau.
Not a guess. Your apartment was the scene of a triple homicide.
Mm, amazing what a good paint job will do.
Previous owner hacked up the bodies with an electric carving Kn*fe.
In your living room.
Mm-hmm.
Yeah, I couldn't get the... blood out of the floorboards.
That's why I put the piano over there.
It was Gibbs' idea.
Out of sight, out of mind.
I guess we have been to enough crime scenes to sort of take away that stigma a little.
Not really.
(chuckling): But you saw the price.
You know, the fact that so much time has passed now, you don't even have to disclose those deaths when you sell.
Wait, is that true?
♪ ♪
Abby?
Ready when you are, Abbs.
Tony: Abbs?
I'm ready.
(Tony and McGee gasp)
Whew.
Did you think I was in the coffin?
Uh...
If the shoe fits.
It didn't. I tried.
Plus the lining is non-biodegradable, and the velvet thread count is criminal.
I wouldn't be caught dead in that thing.
Did you call us down here to talk about coffin comfort?
No, financial records for Sandra Billingsley.
McGee: Dead prison guard accomplice.
Abby: Yep.
So a month ago, she put down a deposit at a company in Delaware.
Ooh, fertility clinic.
She was planning to get pregnant here in the U.S.
Abby: That's not the interesting part.
When she put down the deposit, she was required to give a local address.
Apartment in Dover.
In her name?
No.
Lila McClane.
I did a background check on that, and it ended up being a dead end.
Alias.
Yeah, but if she planned this whole thing with Jacob Scott, then...
Tony: He knows about this place.
Could be where he's hiding.
Thank you.
Get him.
No one's home, but the curtains were open.
Someone is definitely living there.
Team's in place?
Ready for my signal.
Sorry.
I got tired of riding shotgun.
Will you make up your damn mind?
(faint jazz music plays)
Are you in or are you out?
(phone beeps)
Oh, who's that now?
Gibbs: Courtney?
No, it's Rita.
How many you got?
None.
Doesn't sound like it.
Well, I can't get it up.
Ah, geez.
No, the nerve.
I can't get up the nerve to go out with them.
I should start this all again.
Please, don't.
I text these women through the apps.
They sound wonderful, but... I always seem to come up with excuses not to met.
You nervous?
No!
Got plenty of game.
It's just...
(sighs)
Is it too soon?
(groans, chuckles)
You were married to her.
I was twice.
Tobias...
I want to date.
Well, uh, you know what, then date.
Just-just do it.
You don't need my blessing.
I'm not asking for your blessing.
But if you were gonna give it...
I'll text her back.
(phone beeping)
Well, hold off, lover boy.
Cassio Chavez.
Not the criminal we were expecting.
Well, second best is gonna have to do.
I owe you one.
Yeah, you're damn right you do.
Go, go, go, go.
Gibbs, now you got to do the paperwork.
(laughs)
Agent: Get down on the ground, now!
(agents talking indistinctly)
Fornell: Prison records show you went through their drug program.
Fall off the wagon?
Stress can do that.
Double m*rder.
Prison break.
Yeah.
It's a lot to juggle.
I go half-crazy choosing neckties in the morning.
Yeah, well, he's already got a life sentence.
Fornell: Right, no consequences.
None of this bothers him.
Unless... the baby and the apartment...
Were all for you.
Sandra was the love of my life.
She was there for me.
Through rehab, my darkest times.
And during hers, all I could do was sit and watch her die.
F-For two days.
In the sea container.
Two days... before I could lay her to rest in that casket.
It's the only thing I've done right since she's passed.
Because you started using again.
Do you think they'll let me bury her?
With special privileges... it's not likely.
Unless... you tell us what happened.
I didn't mean to k*ll those people.
It was you?
It was the dr*gs.
That woman, she gave us each, you know, a little money and-and said she was willing to look the other way as long as we never came back again.
You did.
Yeah, well, she had so much more, you know, in the closet, so... so I got high and, uh, and then I come back for the rest.
The prison escape.
It was a year of planning.
Between us.
You and Scott.
No, Sandra.
Scott wasn't part of the plan.
He was just assigned with me on kitchen duty.
He requested that assignment.
So what?
How'd you meet Sandra?
Well... Scott introduced us.
Oh, man.
Yeah, well, that was, like, two years ago.
He's been playing you.
Two years?
Man really wants to get back into the spy game.
Spy game? No.
No, mate.
Jacob Scott's out for blood.
Yeah? Whose?
Yours.
He said NCIS k*lled his wife.
No record of Scott ever being married.
Bishop: This doesn't make any sense.
You got into the case file?
Enough of it, anyway.
So what was Juniper Strike?
2002 raid in Istanbul, Turkey, to take down Scott's Russian buyer.
We already knew about this.
Exactly.
Buyer was k*lled.
Bishop: Russian national Nika Razin.
Tony: Hey.
I've seen her before.
In a photo from the laser tag office.
McGee: She's dead; why does Scott still care about her?
She was his wife.
He was selling secrets to his wife?
Talk about The Spy Who Loved Me.
The stolen file, put it up.
Bishop: Top sheet was a list of people involved in the operation.
Aka his wife's death.
Boss, this is a hit list?
Where would he start, Gibbs?
The top.
The man who ordered the whole damn thing.
♪ ♪
(tires screeching)
(dog barking in distance)
Gibbs: Cover the back.
(knocking loudly)
NCIS!
We too late?
Okay, let's do this.
(gasps)
Gibbs: Hi.
NCIS.
Pottery club ended an hour ago.
Agent Gibbs, is that why my phone's been ringing?
Yes, it is.
Is your husband home?
Yeah, he's in the den, working on his book.
I'm guessing you're not here to help proofread.
No, we're not.
(chuckling): All right.
Wipe your feet.
Double doors, right over there.
(classical music playing)
Nice place.
What do you think he pulls in at Homeland?
He give us the slip?
No.
Mrs. Morrow: Can I get you guys anything?
Something to drink?