Every body has a story to tell.
Now although this gentleman d*ed a natural death, he gave his cadaver to further your education, so pay careful attention to what he has to tell us.
Now, the brain.
Inside, you will see the delicate structures and pathways that determine memories, emotions, basic motor functions.
In sum, who we are.
Mr. Palmer would you cradle the brain while I sever this...?
Lieutenant Greer, the four... lobes of the cerebrum?
It's the frontal, the parietal, occipital and temporal.
The adult human brain weighs approximately three pounds.
Feels like a soggy grapefruit.
Yes. Well, pass it around.
Now, don't let its small size fool you.
The cerebral cortex contains one billion neurons and one million billion connections, or synapses.
If you were to count one synapse per second, you wouldn't finish counting for 32 million years.
Doctor, is this natural?
Certainly not.
What the hell is that?
This, my dear lieutenant... is m*rder.
NCIS Season 5 Episode 4 Identity Crisis
Not bad.
And look at this one. You're going to love this guy.
Yeah, he would not be safe with me. I would eat him.
He's so adorable. How can you say no to that face?
Please tell me you're looking for a man for Ziva.
Not me.
McGoo, is there something you want to tell me?
Looking at animal rescue sites.
McGee's thinking about getting a puppy.
Puppy's a lot of work.
You got to feed it, walk it, train it.
Yeah. I'm not 12, all right?
I work hard. I deserve someone who will jump up all excited when I get home, you know?
Lay on the couch, watch TV.
Maybe lick my face a little bit.
Might be easier getting a girlfriend.
Which might even be easier with a puppy.
Even for you.
I'm not ready to start taking tips from you on this yet, probie.
Tony, I think it's time you get back on that horse.
Are you getting a pony?
It's an adage.
I am not familiar with that breed.
Yeah, well, they are quite rare.
Sort of a cross between a Pegasus and a unicorn.
So, who's the favorite?
The Pit Bull.
Yeah, that makes sense for you, actually.
Not really for McGee.
He's more of a...
Spaniel kind of guy.
Cocker, maybe?
How about an Australian Shepherd?
They're working dogs.
Pick it up, DiNozzo.
On it, boss.
A.F.I.P. Smooth things over.
Please hold.
What did we do to incur the wrath of the Armed Forces Institute of Pathology?
Ducky kept one of their cadavers.
Ducky stole a cadaver?
I'm sure he had a good reason.
I hope so.
Sit.
Stay.
Roll over.
It's absolutely ridiculous, Jethro.
This man's body should never have been donated to science.
Too late for a refund.
He was m*rder*d, Jethro, with an injection of mercury into his brain. A liquid b*llet.
Mr. Palmer is presently endeavoring to reach the M.E. who made such a grievous oversight.
Still no answer, Doctor.
Then redial, Mr. Palmer.
Yes.
Unidentified African-American male, approximately 50 years old blood-alcohol level zero point one-two.
Official cause of death: asphyxiation from the deceased's own vomit.
However, here's the kicker.
They elected not to perform an autopsy.
But it would be pretty hard to find a pinprick hole in the base of a skull.
And heavy metals wouldn't show on a tox screen unless you're looking for them, specifically.
Mr. Palmer, do not defend the inefficiency of others.
I'm not sure you can just take control of a body, Duck.
Well, someone has to.
I mean, based on preliminary findings, County Police determined that he was a nameless drifter.
A John Doe.
Had too much to drink and d*ed in his sleep.
Some people live their whole lives off the grid.
No, not our man.
I'd wager that he spent several years in prison.
Yeah, it's elementary, my dear Jethro.
The proliferation of scar tissue on his body.
Cigarette-sized burns.
Our John Doe led a violent life.
Yes, well, this long scar on his left leg is surgical.
However, it healed poorly.
Suggests prison-caliber medical treatment.
Especially post-operative.
And the tattooing.
Pen ink. Jailhouse style.
Yes. Perhaps we can get Abby to shed some light on this pattern.
It's her area of expertise.
A John Doe. I mean, it's ridiculous.
It can't be that difficult to locate a prison record.
Somebody must actually care that this man is dead Well?
Did you locate the M.E.?
No. I gave up.
There in lies the problem.
People are just not willing to do the legwork.
He had a m*rder victim right in front of him, classroom full of m*llitary students.
I think he might be a bit embarrassed.
Excellent detective work.
I hope your opinion of me doesn't waver after I've given this fellow a piece of my mind.
Never.
I warn you, this might get ugly.
I'm looking for Dr. Jordan Hampton.
You found her.
Is there something wrong with your telephone?
Wouldn't know. I don't answer it.
Too many bodies, and not enough time.
Special Agent Gibbs, Dr. Donald Mallard. NCIS.
Pleasure. I assume you're not here to check on my phone.
Perhaps you'd have a moment to discuss a John Doe that crossed your table nine days ago.
Remember the body?
Yeah, I remember every body.
50 something, black male found DOA on Highland Pier. Aspirated on his own vomit.
I assume you kept him the requisite 72 hours.
No one made any inquiries.
Day two of his stay, I caught a priority triple homicide.
Day four, Anatomy Board picked him up.
You needed the space.
Not a whole lot of elbow room.
Where he went after that, I can't say.
A.F.I.P., and then, our autopsy suite.
We're investigating his death as a homicide.
Damn it.
I missed something.
An injection of mercury into his brain in between the first vertebrae and the occipital bone.
Police tried and failed to ID him.
AFIS database and dental record searches: they came up empty.
DNA?
I'm not sure how it goes at NCIS, around here, that takes about six months.
Never canvassed the scene.
Sadly, most cops I know, they prefer to hear,
"case closed" than look for a reason to open one.
It's not the first time someone's slipped through the cracks.
Well, I'm glad you caught him, Dr. Mallard.
As am I.
Yeah, I hope she recovers from that tongue-lashing.
What do you find under the pier?
85 cents, two batteries and a bottle cap.
No mercury, no needle.
Keep looking.
Got to find someone who knew him.
Highland Beach in October.
How much of a tourist draw.
Soft-shell crab season's almost over.
People really like boats that much?
You work for the Navy, DiNozzo.
Maybe we should start with this waitress.
Eating or asking questions?
If you were hoping for subtle, you could have lost the g*ns.
Or least the hats.
Excuse me.
I'd just like to show you a photo, see if you recognize this man.
Okay.
You trying to build suspense?
No.
It's just that the man in the photo is dead, and... some people find that shocking.
Thanks for being gentle.
I'm a gentle man.
- Seen him?
Never seen him.
So, the waitress, Miss Shannon O'Hara, remembers our guy.
Never got a name, paid cash, big tipper.
How about your biker g*ng there?
They're just passing through.
That's it?
Yeah, they don't like cops much.
Check out the brunette at the table.
Good eye, boss.
I'll tell you, my radar is just totally sh*t. She's smokin'.
That's not what you meant.
You were suggesting that she seems interested in our presence, maybe a little too interested, and that should question her.
Not a problem.
That's a problem.
Oh, excuse me.
No, excuse me.
Mind if we ask where you're going in such a hurry?
What business is it of NCIS?
We're looking for anyone who might have known this man.
He's dead?
You know him?
His name's Marvin Hinton. He was with me.
And you are?
Careful.
I was just reaching for my ID.
Special Agent Courtney Krieger.
Hinton was working for the FBI.
Hey, Gibbs, need a refill? I'm going.
We, yeah, Betro. Thanks, make it a double.
You got it.
Still can't find any record of Marvin Hinton.
And you won't. Marvin Hinton doesn't exist anymore.
"Anymore"?
His cellmates swear Marvin Hinton served six years at Cumberland, although any record of it vanished when he was released last month.
We had to reassemble his history by hand, it's not complete.
He once went by the name Frederick LeClair.
Hinton aka LeClair.
Bootlegging, false IDs, resisting arrest, theft.
The guy's a career felon.
Interstate trafficking, primarily.
How did he show up on your radar?
Was a routine tip.
Picked him up offloading stolen cargo containers.
At which point, you discover a nameless man whose entire history's been erased.
No fingerprints, no criminal record.
Not even a high school transcript.
That's impossible, you'd need first person access to a federal mainframe, credit ratings, countless private companies.
That'd be like taking spit out of the ocean.
How did he do it?
Claimed he didn't.
Said he was contacted by someone offering the service.
"The Eraser".
What movie is that from?
I don't know, Flashdance?
Why was Hinton not back in prison?
He was a small fish, but The Eraser... he's our real target.
We hoped he would contact Hinton, get paid off and finish the job.
Provide Hinton with a new identity.
Exactly.
I was left to baby-sit.
It was my first field assignment.
Never expected him to be k*lled.
That is what happens to bait.
Hey, it's not your fault.
So why didn't Hinton skip town when he had the opportunity?
He was having too good a time on the government expense account.
But we did have him under 24-hour monitoring, three-team shifts.
What changed?
The Eraser didn't make contact.
They pulled my surveillance team to chase other leads.
You notify your boss.
We need to know everything you know.
The Bureau set Hinton up here?
It's maintain the appearance he was flush.
Anyone else have their own key?
No, we met here weekly so no one would see us together.
He agreed to play along in exchange for leniency.
But he knew it could be dangerous.
Forget the puppy, McGee.
A place like this is what you need to score with the chicks.
Here.
Boss, this could be the m*rder w*apon: mercury.
Positive for blood.
Fluids.
Lots of them.
No surprise there.
Six years in prison.
The Eraser made the initial contact at the Crab Shack.
Not face to face.
No, slipped him a note.
So, you sent Hinton back, hoping for another one.
Hinton was supposed to keep a record of anyone he came in contact with.
I was running background checks, chasing down his leads I was waiting for anything new.
You got your wish.
Your first crime scene.
He was k*lled in that room.
This is why I love you guys.
You bring me hair, you bring me blood, you bring me fluids.
And mercury.
Predictable, yet constantly surprising.
We try.
Of course, mercury is toxic, so you shouldn't let kids break open thermometers and play with it.
Speaking from personal experience, Abb?
Actually explains a lot.
You want it, but it kills you.
It's like a metaphor.
It's a cigarette.
Or chocolate for dogs.
By the way, I like the dachshund for you.
You could name him Mercury.
This mercury, Abby.
Industrial grade, commonly used in heavy machinery, although it's fallen out of favor because of the fear factor.
A lot of it's being dropped on developing nations like India.
Where exporting/dumping has become a major revenue stream.
Anyways, um, this is what k*lled our painted man.
Speaking of which...
I've seen a lot of great skin art done with a ballpoint pen and a needle.
Like this and this.
Very nice.
But this guy's tattoo it's, It's a mess. The symbols are gibberish, the pattern's haphazard. It's a puzzle.
It puzzles me, Gibbs.
I'm determined to solve it.
Hair samples.
Not nearly as interesting.
Six different women.
Hinton had a lot of girlfriends.
One's a bleach blonde. One's auburn from a bottle, if you want to know anything else, you have to find something to match it against.
Delivery for Tony.
I got it, I got it.
Thank you.
Hey, how are you?
Good, thanks.
Here you go.
Thank you. Have a good night.
Keep the change.
Portobello mushroom, no tomato.
Philly cheese steak, extra steak, extra cheese.
These are all Hinton's contacts.
Can't help but notice they're all women.
What made him think The Eraser was a woman?
I don't know that he did.
Well... Cause you know, you said he was enjoying himself.
You, you...
You have mushroom in your teeth.
Where's your bathroom?
I will show you where it is.
Hey, so I've been thinking about the m*rder.
Why k*ll him that way?
I mean an injection into the brain, definitely not the most common method.
To find out "why, " you must ask "who."
Someone tidy.
Someone who doesn't like messes.
You have a theory?
Someone who needs to be in constant control of the situation.
Someone who does not like to lose control of their emotions.
Ziva, what are you doing?
I'm not an expert here, but I'm pretty sure what you're doing now is a violation of the code.
It is not against the law.
The woman's code.
McGee, I bet you if we take a strand of her hair, it will match the sample from Hinton's condo.
Well, of course it would. She's already said she been there every week.
This woman is uptight.
Not even a single strand.
We will have to go to the source.
Ziva, no hair pulling.
She's the only one that was in contact with Hinton.
It would have been easy for her to just sweep him under the rug.
Motive?
She's ambitious. He became too much of a complication.
When someone's that uptight, it's only a matter of time before they... snap.
Okay.
You don't like her.
Do you?
I understand what she's going through.
I remember what it was like to be green, afraid you're going to mess up.
Which she did.
So what, you want to rub it in?
Come on, Ziva, I think she deserves a little sympathy.
Tony seems to like her.
I do not think Gibbs does.
Who do you work for, Tobias? Homeland Security or the FBI?
The world's on my shoulders, Gibbs.
World made of paper.
Just throw that anywhere.
Kind of defeats the purpose of e-mail when you have to print it all out for the fire anyway.
Yeah. That's why I don't use it.
Really? Not because you can't figure out how to work it?
I spend most of my time now coordinating the flow of information.
What can I give you?
Your opinion on Special Agent Courtney Krieger.
Promising.
Does everything by the book, the book doesn't show very much imagination.
Definitely a child of the electronic age.
Currently running a low-level asset in Highland Beach.
Asset named Hinton.
Okay, what am I missing?
Fact he was m*rder*d.
Marvin Hinton is dead?
I told her to notify you.
You've got to be kidding me.
She sent an e-mail.
It went in my spam folder.
This is serious, Gibbs.
Alive, Hinton was just an ex-con who made a deal with the devil.
Dead means the devil came to collect.
Devil have a name?
That's just about all he's got.
You ever heard of Kamal Konkani?
Built his reputation in the early '90s manufacturing false IDs for IRA bombers.
Moved around Europe one step ahead of the authorities for the next ten years.
Where he went, death followed.
Been invisible since the millennium.
He made a fortune working for t*rrorists.
Hinton wasn't a t*rror1st.
Game has changed in a decade.
Documents are more sophisticated, electronic tracking, facial recognition.
We think Kamal was using Hinton as a test.
A test? For what?
Homeland picked up chatter from a training facility in Libya.
A t*rror1st cell with assurances of clean entry onto U.S. soil.
Assurances from Kamal Konkani.
And with Hinton dead...
The only eyes on Kamal have been closed for a week.
You're telling me that there are t*rrorists on the way here and they could be anyone? How did this start?
With a dead man named Marvin Hinton aka Frederick LeClair.
An ex-con looking for a new identity.
A wish your Eraser was more than happy to accommodate.
My boss looks mad.
He's going to chew you up.
Out. Chew you out.
Maybe not, maybe he's one of those silent k*ller types.
What do you know about this Eraser?
McGee.
Believed to be a Pakistani national raised in India and England.
Made his name working with t*rrorists.
Clean IDs, easy transit.
Facilitated Basque terror att*cks in Spain, IRA bombings in England.
The GIA bombing in France in 1995.
k*lled eight, wounded hundreds, led by Khaled Kelkal.
French authorities identified the man who made it possible as Kamal Konkani.
That's a lot of "K's."
"K's" are funny.
Agent Krieger.
You ever see The Sunshine Boys?
But they weren't able to put a face to the name before he disappeared off the radar.
Apparently, he's relocated to Maryland.
Upgraded his system for taking people off the grid.
We were tipped off to Hinton. So it's possible that Kamal dropped the dime himself to test his work.
His work seems impeccable.
Now he's covering his tracks.
And shopping the service to t*rrorists overseas.
I'll monitor the situation in the training camps, watch closely for any movement.
I suggest you pick up Kamal's trail on this end.
No trace. No face.
This ought to be easy.
Special Agent Krieger.
A word.
According to his Interpol bio, Kamal rarely ventures out of his safe house once it is established.
Style's cloak-and-dagger. Low-tech. No cell phone, no electronic messages.
Smart.
He prefers to pass notes.
The Bureau provided several intercepted by the French 12 years ago, coded.
Abby has them now.
I don't give a flying crap what it states in the handbook!
You don't know enough to make a decision on your own!
That was long overdue.
What have you got against her?
I do not like cleaning up after other people.
It is very clear what you would like to have against her.
Excuse me?
You want to sleep with her.
I...
Well, so...
What if I do?
Same old Tony.
I thought the new Tony wanted something more.
A real relationship.
I was pretending to be someone else.
Yeah, you could have fooled me. I thought you had grown.
I'm not particularly interested in outgrowing sex.
Sure it would be nice, Tony. But it would be meaningless.
Empty. It would be wrong for you.
She's a pretty girl, but she's just a girl.
The man you were becoming needs a woman.
At least I thought he did.
You believe that? An e-mail!
Perhaps we're looking at this tattoo from the wrong angle.
I've manipulated the image every way I can.
I've inverted it. I've shrunk it. I've stretched it.
I can't figure it out.
Gonna have to mute you Duck.
Nothing personal.
No, wait. It's very pecu...
You got something on the tattoo?
It's a work in progress, but...
I did find out something about the notes that the FBI got from Kamal.
FBI code-breakers couldn't make anything of the language.
No, neither could I.
But the paper the notes are written on, it has a curve, so it came off of some sort of spool.
Cash register receipt.
And Major Mass Spec had a field day with these smudges, decided that it's Makki Ki Roti and Sarson Ka Saag.
Maize-flour bread and mustard-leaf sauce, which goes nice with a glass of lassi.
Indian food.
Punjab, to be specific.
Kamal likes his home cooking.
Might add to his profile.
It's good work.
Gonna have to mute you.
Don't say "good work".
Not till I figure out the riddle of the tattoo.
Ziva, can I ask you a question?
Isn't it hard being the only woman on the team?
No.
God, I wish I had your confidence.
Well, it comes from experience.
The way I'm going, that's something I'll never get.
Look, Courtney, they obviously saw something valuable in you, otherwise you would not have made it this far.
Thank you.
But... stop trying to be perfect.
You will mess up. And occasionally, you will take a b*ating.
And then what?
Then, you know the expression "you get back on the horse"?
I competed in equestrian. Show jumping mostly. My uncle bred Arabians.
Do we hug now?
Assuming he still likes home cooking, there are 15 Indian restaurants within a ten-mile radius of Highland Beach.
Kamal doesn't travel.
Confine the search to walking distance.
There's only one in the vicinity...
Punjab Tandoori.
Man's gotta eat. We know he's been in the area.
If he's using the same MO, passing notes. Who's he handing 'em to?
Any chance he's got people from the old country workin' on this side?
Makes that restaurant the perfect place to hang out if he does.
Slim chance he'd be at the restaurant himself.
Let's keep this one low-key when we go to scope it out.
Have to go in undercover.
Hi. Table for two, please.
Right this way.
Looks like a nice place, doesn't it, honey?
Sure does, sweet cheeks.
Hold it steady, I'm gonna zoom in here.
On the waiter, DiNozzo.
Our specials this evening are the...
Masala Chops and the Lobia Curry.
The Lobia is my personal favorite.
And freeze.
Here are the menus,
I'll be right back to take your order.
Facial ID should take a second here.
Unless he has been erased.
Ashwin Romji.
Married, father of three.
Resident since 1987, legal citizen since 1999.
Seems clean. Courtney, can you get an angle on the kitchen staff.
She looks tense. Think maybe it should be you in there?
I think she'll do fine.
Act natural. Just a normal date.
Can I tell you a secret?
It's been a while.
Yeah. Me, too.
Work comes first.
Just pretend you like me.
It's not too hard to do.
You have really soft hands.
How is it going, Tony?
I'm so sorry.
You know, I...
It's okay.
Good thing we didn't put the mic in his pants.
I'm just gonna go clean this up.
Not quite how I remember dating.
Feels about par for the course.
Sorry. Sorry, man.
Excuse me.
Didn't get a good look at the delivery boy.
Well, looks like they keep him busy.
Maybe Kamal gets take-out.
Cross-checking the addresses.
Can I help you, sir?
Yeah.
Can we get our food to go?
Because my girlfriend and...
I understand.
It's very naughty.
Stop. Third on the list.
It's a rented apartment.
Look at the name on the lease, McGee.
Yeah. I see him.
Check the delivery boy.
Regular dinner delivery to a Frederick LeClair.
That's a name our dead guy's used before.
Dead guys don't eat.
So who's using it now?
We can't be this lucky.
Let him make the drop first, Ziva.
Yes, Gibbs. Standing by.
Okay, take him.
Moving in.
I was wondering if you could help us.
I'm a bit lost.
Where are you...
What the...
What the hell's going on?
Just dinner.
The door?
Allow me.
Clear.
Clear.
Nobody here.
This is Kamal's place.
Yeah, or it was.
Can't have gone far.
Where's the guy who lives here?
How would I know? I just deliver the food.
How's he going to eat if he's not home?
It's a standing dinner order.
I drop off his meal every afternoon, and he pays two weeks in advance.
So you've seen him?
Yeah.
Once.
Gave me a big wad of cash and a good tip.
Can you describe him?
Okay, I guess.
Older black guy, about my height, maybe a little taller.
What about this guy you seen him before?
Is this a trick question?
That is the guy who lives here.
Frederick LeClair.
Marvin Hinton.
Kamal Konkani.
Our dead guy's our bad guy.
Then who k*lled him?
Robert Graves.
25 years old.
No aliases, no priors.
No passport.
According to his W4, he's been working at the restaurant six months.
If you believe everything on paper.
How much longer are we going to do this?
Anxious to get out?
Wasn't planning on spending the night in custody.
I have a term paper due tomorrow.
Grad student in electrical engineering.
Solid B-minus average.
You grew up in Hagerstown.
Nice neighborhood?
My parents were working class.
I've had jobs since I was 13 and...
I've had to work twice as hard as the silver spoons to get where I am.
The delivery boy.
What did I do wrong?
Was there something in the package?
dr*gs?
He could still be a courier and not know it.
He delivers information into go-boxes.
Returns with cash that contains the reply.
And someone else at the restaurant sends on instructions to prospective clients, tucked in a meal.
It doesn't matter how he did it.
Hinton played you.
He was The Eraser all along.
Hinton was Kamal... that explains his so-called retirement.
He was in prison.
Spending his time improving the technique for eliminating a person's history.
Which means.
He was testing it on himself.
So, why...
Let himself be caught on the trafficking charge?
And who...
k*lled him?
That... was clearly not part of the plan.
We were working under the assumption The Eraser k*lled his client to cover his tracks.
What if it was the other way around?
The Eraser was k*lled by one of his clients?
t*rrorists?
We don't know if they've arrived yet.
Another client, then.
Someone... with a past they needed to forget.
And once the client's past had been erased, he kills Kamal.
To eliminate the only person who knows his true identity.
Almost.
Not a him, a her.
One of his girlfriends...
Was actually a client.
Cute.
She was erased, so we don't know anything about her.
Wrong.
We do know how she kills.
Where is Dr. Mallard?
With our forensic scientist.
I don't think he's ready to release the body, though.
He really gets into his work.
Yeah, he's turned himself inside out trying to unscramble the meaning behind this tattoo.
Dr. Mallard hates to leave anything unfinished.
Yeah.
Me, too.
Dr. Hampton?
What are you doing?
I would never cut into your body without your permission, but...
I would appreciate the opportunity to... perhaps level the scales.
Of course.
You could have come into my lab flapping and quacking about miracles I failed to weave.
I assure you that's not in my character.
Shall we... do this together?
I could only hope that this makes us even.
I might even owe you one...
Doctor.
The girls have a theory.
The m*rder does not have anything to do with terrorism.
It's one of The Eraser's other clients.
So the k*ller could be anyone from anywhere?
We have been sifting through instances involving mercury.
Did not find similar m*rder, but...
Idaho. Three years ago.
George Barney dies in his sleep after having a few too many drinks.
Choked to death on his own vomit.
He's buried on his family farm.
Last month, the Barneys are digging a new well.
It turns out, the groundwater had been contaminated.
EPA was called in, traced the source of the contamination back to a leak in George Barney's casket.
Mercury.
His young widow had been the high school science teacher.
She moved on after his untimely death.
Local cops couldn't track her down.
She k*lled her husband.
Here's a picture of the grieving wife.
Look familiar?
Do you need me to identify another photo?
Recognize this person?
Her hair matches one of the samples from Hinton's condo.
And the m*rder has her signature.
All right, look.
It was a tragedy when my husband d*ed.
The entire town thought so.
Doesn't sound like you share their sentiments.
They didn't know what he was like when he was drunk, which was all the time.
So when the opportunity presented itself to start a new life, you took it.
Wouldn't you?
How did Marvin Hinton know you were on the run?
He knew everything about me in one look, everything that matters.
He knew how I'd gotten my new name.
He said he'd been contacted the same way.
So you went home with him?
Did it occur to you that he was the one who set up your new identity?
That he was toying with you?
'Cause he was the only one who knew about your past.
Right?
I didn't k*ll him.
I suppose it wouldn't be any fun if she just admitted it.
Yes, sir.
Delivery boy still here?
Waiting in the conference room.
Make sure he gets home.
Special Agent Krieger.
Nice work today.
She k*lled once for a new life.
Why not twice?
Did us a favor... Kamal is dead.
It doesn't seem to bother his international clients.
The t*rror1st training camp?
Marine task force just went in.
And?
One t*rror1st k*lled.
They found an American passport on his body.
It went through squeaky clean.
Kamal had completed the job.
What about the rest of the cell?
Too late. Already gone.
They're on their way here.
And the only man who knows who they are is past telling us.
That's not certain, Tony.
Our dead man may have one thing left to say.
We cracked it, Gibbs, me and Ducky.
We solved the puzzle. We were just looking at it wrong.
Yeah, it was Jordan...
Dr. Hampton who had the idea of excising the section of inked flesh.
That is so gross.
But what we found is so cool.
The blotchy thick, blue jailhouse dye... that's just a camouflage.
Yes, the real clue is underneath, hidden like a painted-over Monet canvas.
All I had to do was eliminate the blue to clarify it.
This... is the original tattoo.
It's beautiful, with deeper needling.
Professional work.
It's a masterpiece, it's a Blaine Parker.
He's something of a legend, Boston artist.
A man like Hinton trying to shed his past...
So I talked to Parker's assistant, and she was able to determine the exact dates when Hinton got the original tattoo.
Over a period of several days, ten years ago.
Interpol's timeline, puts Kamal in London ten years ago.
Hinton's not Kamal.
Delivery boy lied to us.
He did more than that, he set us up. He wanted us to believe it was Hinton.
You think the kid's Kamal?
He'd have had to start when he was 8years old.
Not if he's the new Dread Pirate Roberts.
I love The Princess Bride.
No one would ever surrender to the Dread Pirate Westley.
The Dread Pirate Roberts picks a successor, then trains him, starts calling him Roberts and then settles into a cushy retirement.
It's the name "Kamal" that sells the business.
You can let me off up here.
Sorry for the inconvenience.
Just a case of mistaken identity.
Good luck on your term paper.
Thanks.
Ziva, where are you?
Dropping off Graves, Gibbs.
Don't!
Can we hug now?
From your closet.
Special delivery.
How'd you find Kamal?
You don't find Kamal.
Kamal finds you.
He tempts you with the money or the power?
Or just the chance to become somebody else?
Kamal could tell you needed him.
He needed me.
He can't even work his own computer. Man's a dinosaur.
He knows how to read people.
Cover his tracks.
But you don't have the discipline.
Hinton figured you out.
He would've led the FBI right to you.
So you k*lled him before he got the chance.
Made us think he was Kamal.
Then you framed another client for his m*rder.
Shannon O'Hara, aka Karen Barney.
You knew how she'd k*lled in the past. She was your first client.
Good for you.
You've got the whole story.
The worst mistake you made...
You tried to sh**t our agents.
Hey, let me hang that up for you, Tobias.
Sit down!
What do you want?
The rest of your client list.
Tell us where to find the real Kamal!
Now!
I was at an embassy party once... gated, razor wire, surveillance system, the whole deal and this guy just walks in the front door, wearing T-shirt that says "Liquor Store."
Holds up a brown paper bag, and he goes
"Did anybody order a bottle of vodka?"
The places you can access when you look the part.
This thing starts kind of slow.
I'm sure it gets better.
The picture's up, boss.
An NCIS production.
Brought to you by Leroy Jethro Gibbs.
Starring, as usual, the FBI, and the elusive Kamal Konkani.
Freeze it.
The Dread Pirate Roberts, I presume.
Did you get her number?
Who, Courtney? No.
I did.
She wants to learn how to fight.