05x08 - Designated Target

See? Shortcut through the park will be working.

You just doubled your tip.

It's Kirkland.

No, my car broke down.

I had to take a cab. I should be there in 20.

Have Bob start the presentation.

Yeah, use the laser pointer.

The GAO guys are distracted by shiny things.

That'll keep them busy.

Be there soon.

Through no, no. Be passing us, already.

What the hell?

Come on, come on.

Go, go.

NCIS Season 5 Episode 8 Designated Target

No, no, no, it is not you, it's just... well, you know, these things run their course.

And, well, you you must accept it...

Personal call, David?

Yes.

Go away.

Somebody being dumped?

How do you tell someone you no longer want to see him?

Easy.

Listen, dirtbag, this is Ziva's husband.

I have your phone number now. I can find your address. if you ever try to contact her again, I will reach down your throat, grab your intestines, rip them out and drive over your head!

Lose this number or lose your life.

You're welcome.

That was my Aunt Nettie from Tel Aviv.

She was trying to stop seeing her 86-year-old mahjong partner.

Why didn't you stop me?

Too stunned.

Where do I send flowers?

If you ever communicate with her again, I will kill you.

Is it always this bright in here?

Wait a second. I recognize that look.

You had s*x, and I'm guessing it was with a girl.

No.

No, it wasn't a girl?

No, it's none of your business.

If the probie was probing last night, I demand details.

Actually it was this morning.

And it wasn't s*x, it was coffee.

And it was good.

The coffee or the s*x?

It wasn't s*x. I met a nice girl, we're hitting it off, that's all.

Where do you meet?

Moved into my building a few days ago right across the hall.

Proximity, that's convenient.

Very?

McGee is getting some.

Get it out of your head, DiNozzo.

And gear up, we got a dead one.

You know, repeated head trauma causes brain damage!

Explains a lot.

Is this side of my head bigger?

Yes, but so is the other side.

Bonnie and Clyde.

Who and what?

It's a movie.

1967, Warren Beatty.

Faye Dunaway.

It's a classic tale of crime and punishment.

Focus on this crime scene, DiNozzo.

Nine millimeter cartridges.

It's not a robbery.

Cash box is still under the seat.

Credit cards are here, too.

Rear Admiral Kenneth Kirkland.

Worked at the Pentagon.

The driver's name...

"A-tife"?

Atif Nukunda.

Gesundheit.

Address is listed as DC.

Tire tracks.

Single alignment, looks like a motorcycle.

Top choice of assassins who often dump their weapons.

Look, Ziva.

Duck?

Well, this was no traffic accident.

No kidding.

Little doubt they were killed here.

Cause of death, multiple gunshots.

Any one of which could have been fatal.

Time?

That's not gonna be a problem.

Onboard digital surveillance camera, probably time-stamped.

Let's see it, DiNozzo.

What? There a problem?

Well, I...

McGee has the cable...

McGee.

Normally I have the cable, but McGee has the other bag.

Recorded straight onto a flash drive, probably on a 15 minute loop.

Let's see the last recorded images here.

At 9:23, first shot was fired.

Cab crashed seven seconds later.

A turkey shoot.

Fish in a barrel.

DiNozzo, find out where the admiral was coming from, headed to, who knew about it... and if any of those files are missing.

All right, I'll take care...

That lipstick on your collar, McGee?

Well...

Good for you, Tim.

Good for you.

Just don't ever get married.

Hello?

I didn't order a sofa.

Yeah, that's my credit card number.

Rear Admiral Kirkland's credited with several innovative efficiency programs at the Pentagon.

He was involved in developing the Ready-Rapid Deployment model for moving massive amounts of assets with minimum delays.

Possible target for terrorists?

Admiral hasn't left dry land since 02.

Not exactly a high-value al-Qaeda target.

Any admiral is a high-value target.

Taxi?

Kirkland was heading from home to attend a budget meeting at the GAO.

No government car?

Broke down on 14th Street.

His aide stayed with the car, Admiral called a cab.

Why go through the park?

Three car pile-up on Connecticut.

The cabdriver was probably trying to make up time.

Sabotage?

No, we checked the Pentagon surveillance tapes.

Nobody touched the car before it left to pick him up.

Files?

Staff checked his briefcase. Nothing was missing.

Personal?

No enemies, loving family, devoted wife.

No large insurance policies.

No motive.

Every murder has a motive, McGee.

Not this one.

I though you have quit.

I did.

It's no caffeine.

No kick.

I can suck down, like an half dozen of these babies, no ill effects.

Gibbs, I'm steel.

No, I am okay. I'm better than okay.

Way better. From the taxi.

Bullets, the slug on the right is a nine millimeter, full metal jacket, high velocity, you can see by its deformation that it went through metal, glass, whole she-bang.

The other one?

Also nine millimeter. but just a standard hollow-point.

The striations on the rounds indicate that they were using silencers.

Casings?

Ejection port marks show that you're looking for a Glock or a Beretta.

You should really try this, Gibbs.

It'll change your life.

Motorcycle?

The tread on the bike was only offered as an option on the Yamaha R-six series.

No hits on sales records yet, indicating that the bike may have been purchased overseas and then brought across the border.

All that, no caffeine.

Crime scene?

I'm working on some fresh oil drops that were found near the tire tracks.

Cab took a detour.

Must have followed them.

Or they could've hacked into the taxi's onboard navigation system and were waiting.

Ambush.

Okay... can I just have one little teeny-tiny baby booster sip? Please?

No.

Thank you, sir.

Welcome.

McGee, garage. Now.

Boss, the navigation system was definitely hackable.

All they would've need was the car's VIN number and the owner's address.

They could have requested a diagnostic test, then captured and cloned the signal.

Who hacked it?

No way to tell.

The signal doesn't ghost, and there's no recording GPS markers after the fact.

Does anyone have any answers?

Ziva?

No.

Ziva doesn't have any answers, boss.

Yeah, Duck.

I'm on my way up.

You look into the cab company.

Hey, I can't really talk right now.

Sure you can, probie. You can talk right now.

Go away.

Put her on speaker, probie.

Get out of here!

Probie...

Look, there's something... Ah, look at him.

He's all grown up having his first fight.

Now, where did you get my credit card number?

You opened my mail?

Listen, I need to go, but we'll talk about this later, okay?

You, too.

I'll see you later, Bumby.

"Bumby"?

Well, we can't all be called "probie", can we?

What have you got, Duck?

Bullet from the frontal lobe of your rear admiral.

Yeah, both bodies received multiple rounds from a variety of ranges and angles.

Indicating?

The first projectiles struck them after deflected off metal or glass.

And they were followed by two close contact wounds with stippling, indicating that they were shot execution style.

Okay. That's it?

No, no, no.

Come here.

Take a look at this.

What am I looking at?

Between the second bicuspid and second molar, lower left.

Missing tooth?

Freshly extracted.

And the lack of bleeding around the gum tissue indicates that it was postmortem.

There was no tooth in his throat or in his stomach, so he didn't swallow it.

And there was no tooth at the crime scene.

They pulled his tooth?

Well, they could have used a pair of pliers.

It's a crude if effective means of extraction.

Anything taken from our admiral?

No, no, no, no, but I found something really interesting on the driver's right hand.

What is that?

Abby ran the analysis.

It's a fingerprint salve.

Invisible until it's pressed on paper.

Fingerprints and tooth pulp DNA.

Two of the best ways to identify a body.

Yeah, your rear admiral wasn't the target, Jethro.

No.

The cabdriver was.

Dead driver name was Atif Nukunda.

Immigrated here seven years ago from Burundi, in East Africa, after his name was found on a death squad list.

A political refugee.

Employment records show he worked two jobs Cab and pizza delivery driver, about 85 hours a week.

Land of opportunity.

Check his address.

Metro Police have been there, done that. Vacant lot.

Attacks on other cabdrivers in the past 60 days?

Already working on it.

DiNozzo, check out the cab company.

Go to, boss.

"Go to".

It's the new "on it."

New catchphrase, just came up with it.

You like it?

No.

Cab company?

On it, boss.

Go, too.

McGee, what do you got?

Well, boss, the time-stamped footage of the killings enabled us to track all cell calls made from the park in the two minutes after the shooting.

Ten calls in all.

One that stands out was a high-density bandwidth transmission, almost certainly a video file.

Someone filmed the execution.

Proof of death?

Call was made from a pre-paid cell phone, then sent through a router in East Africa.

Lost it there.

Find it.

Well, it went to a series of public pay phones, all of which were answered.

Impossible to tell which line was actually the intended number.

Whoever these guys are, boss, they're very good.

But so are we.

Nukunda is dead, Mr. Bayliss.

Oh, my God.

Really dead?

What happened?

Have you not missed him?

No, he works the morning shift, so, usually he's sleeping all day long.

Where, in his cab?

In his apartment.

Fake address.

Really?

That is weird.

You know, I can't figure out if you're DeVito in Taxi or De Niro in Taxi Driver.

What?

You're acting.

I worked transit detail in Baltimore for two years.

Come on.

Okay, Nukunda was off book.

Off book?

Off book.

Means he worked for himself, not just the cab company.

It also means he required an illegal hack license.

Cause there's a lot of places that cabdrivers won't go in the city, so we let the gypsies work those areas, service the public.

Everybody wins.

The dead cabdriver was not a gypsy.

What?

No, "gypsy" means a cabdriver who works for himself off book.

It's also a great way to take advantage of immigrants desperate for work, isn't it?

Dude, look, all I know is that the guy worked his ass off, okay?

He never invited me to his house, so I don't know where he lives.

I just can't help you out.

Listen, dude, every dispatcher knows every driver and everything about them, so...

I could have the Taxi Commission come down here and talk to you guys cause I know they'd like to meet each and every one of you and...

Wait.

Look, okay, the Burundi drivers, they hang out at a little café. on 18th Street, Northwest.

Little tip: lime juice.

It cuts that just-barfed-on backseat smell, smelly guy.

How long have you been in this country?

Why?

Well, you never heard of gypsy cabs?

You don't use contractions. Assimilate already.

What are contraptions?

Never mind.

There's definitely a photo missing.

Any way to tell what was there?

Would I have you down here to watch me fail?

Silver bromide particles on any positive print leave minute traces on any surface when they're combined with compression and heat, like, say, a wallet being sat on for ten hours a day in a hot taxi.

Abby-cadabra, your picture from the cadaver.

That's sad.

Why would they take the family photo?

More proof they got the right guy. Any good news?

Yes, the oil, not from the taxi but from the motorcycle.

I was able to determine the exact viscosity and degradation, and I found microscopic metal shavings in it.

Trace the bike?

Well, not exactly.

Well, actually, not at all, but if you find the motorcycle, then I can positively place it at the murder scene.

Unless they change the oil.

Unless they change the oil.

This is a gift for you. It's decaf.

I sleep at night.

I actually eat food.

It is so weird, you've got to try it.

Abs.

Don't let that hurt your feelings.

You speak Burundi?

The official language is Kirundi and French.

But these people speak English.

They just don't want to speak it with us.

NCIS.

Federal agents.

Looking for anybody who knows this man, his family, where he lives.

I take it this is the hack section.

I'm just guessing, and your work visas are in order, cause I hate paperwork, so... how about a little help here?

May I see the photograph, please?

I know the man you're looking for, but his name is not Nukunda.

You must forgive them.

Where they come from, agents of the government seldom bring good news.

Well, we have questions.

Even worse.

These are delicious.

Then I won't tell you what they are made from.

Mr. Abaka, you say you're a professor?

At Waverly University.

I teach African Studies there.

How long have you been in this country?

Seven years.

Same as our dead cabdriver.

The same as many people in here.

It was a time of unrest and upheaval in the region.

Thousands of us came here looking for freedom and safety.

It is unfortunate that this man and his family only found death.

Someone must know where his family is.

If they are in hiding, no.

What's his real name?

I don't know.

We keep secrets because secrets keep us alive.

We don't put people in jail for cooperating, but we do put them in jail for not cooperating.

I have been tortured in prison.

I am not afraid of your legal system.

How do you feel about deportation?

Tony.

I will ask, but it is not in their culture to cooperate with the government.

They are too afraid.

He is lying about something. He looked suspicious.

They all looked suspicious.

I'm surprised you could understand him, Ziva.

He spoke perfect English.

You are xenophobic.

I am not Xena-phobic it's one of my favorite shows.

Leather skirts, lesbian sword fighting, female empowerment.

Maybe I'm a little Ziva-phobic.

Do you see what I see?

A crazy Israeli chick with impulse issues?

The reflection.

We could go ask him who he's calling.

Or we can have McGee ask for us.

Okay, triangulating all traffic from the towers closest to Café Butu, narrowing it down to all outgoing calls the time Abaka made his call.

Less narration, McGee.

Tracing.

Look at that.

It's incredible.

Probie's lips are still moving while he's working.

He's like one of those Romanian orphans who can't stop rocking.

You are so prejudiced.

I am not.

I'm not.

By the way, that's a contraction: "I'm."

You should try it sometime.

Got it.

Beat my old record by two seconds.

Cell number is listed to Delphin Abaka of Georgetown.

Who'd he call?

The Wilmont Hotel, room 234.

Currently occupied by a Sayda Zuri.

African.

Accessing immigration files.

Probably Burundian.

Cabdriver's wife maybe?

She came through Customs two days ago from Burundi.

Restricted travel visa.

DiNozzo.

Picking her up, boss.

Found her.

I have come to claim my husband's body.

His name is Thomas.

Thomas Zuri.

Did he change it when he got here?

Many times.

I don't know what he calls himself now, but he'll always be Thomas to me.

You said he came from Burundi seven years ago?

Yes.

But according to immigration records, this is the first time you have been here.

Why?

The situation in Burundi is very complicated, Miss.

I have not been free to come before now, but it seems I am too late.

I am sorry for your loss.

Who told you to come to us?

A friend called me.

Professor Abaka?

He has been helping me to try and find Thomas.

We are soul mates, Thomas and I.

Have you met your soul mate, miss?

You will know the minute you do.

Ziva.

Ready.

No, this is not Thomas.

Yes, well, there's considerable swelling...

May I see his body?

Thomas was tortured.

This man has no scars.

No.

This is not my husband.

You gotta be kidding me.

$15, 000?

$25...

Something wrong, McGee?

Computer glitch.

Better?

Much.


Where's Ziva?

Right behind you.

There have been 11 attacks on cabdrivers in the past 60 days in the DC and Maryland area.

Three of them are very interesting.

DiNozzo, put them up.

All three were shot with a nine-millimeter.

And all three autopsies showed a tooth missing.

Enlarge the photos.

Come on. Tell me you just didn't lose all that information.

McGee!

I hit the space bar.

Just push the buttons I tell you to push, monkey.

Love is not treating you well, my friend.

Yeah, no kidding.

Bring up our John Doe from the morgue.

Anybody see what I see?

Black males.

All in their mid to late 40s.

All local cabdrivers.

None of them work for the same company, though.

Vitals.

Similar age, similar height, similar weight... they all have shaved heads and facial hair.

Bad guys don't know exactly what their target looks like now.

They only have a general description.

Seven years. Long time. People change.

Would explain the teeth pulling and the videos.

DiNozzo. How many cabdrivers in DC fit this general description?

I'd say dozens.

Thomas was a storekeeper.

He had no interest in politics.

But his words were so eloquent, so passionate, that his message spread from village to village.

He became a symbol of hope against a system of injustice and corruption.

Extremists saw him as a threat.

Privately, many in the government did not care if he died.

That was seven years ago.

What's changed?

There is a growing movement against the old ways.

Some people are openly calling for him to return and lead the new people's party.

His enemies fear he will do exactly that.

I have been told they have sent people here to kill him.

Came to warn him.

Yes.

How did your husband get here?

He was smuggled out of the country by your embassy in Burundi.

Our government brought him here?

Yes.

You see, Thomas was pro-American.

That is why the extremists hate him.

Why did you stay?

I could not leave my family, Miss.

My father was dying.

Thomas felt that if he left, the extremists would no longer be threatened by him.

He was right.

They left me alone.

A year after he left, I received this.

No postmark.

It was smuggled to me by the embassy.

He writes that he's working in Washington, driving a taxi.

That he misses me.

That he wants me to join him in America.

And then?

And then there was another civil war.

I never received another letter.

The embassy could no longer help me.

And now they have come for him.

I know men like these.

They will not stop until they are sure my husband is dead.

We need something from you.

Anything.

The name of the embassy official who helped him get away.

Are you aware that I no longer work for the State Department, Director?

Mr. Choyce, are you aware that the State Department and NCIS are part of the same government?

I doubt if there's anything I can do to help you.

You smuggled Thomas Zuri out of Burundi seven years ago.

You set him up in DC.

Gave him a new identity.

Don't know what you're talking about.

Talking about saving a life.

Maybe several.

I wish I could help.

Sit down. You're not done yet.

You're a consultant now with an Asian-based oil company.

What do you think would happen to your value in the private sector if I were to call ZNN, and tell them you refused to help us solve a murder of a United States Naval Officer?

An admiral.

Off the record.

Zuri walked away.

Happens all the time.

Once we get a political asset into the country, we hold onto them in case we need them in the future.

Zuri was very helpful.

But often the assets don't like the restrictions, so they leave the program.

We have no control over that.

Zuri left.

That was five years ago.

How do we find him?

Anything I tell you is a violation of the agreement we had with him.

I am sure he'll understand.

I don't know where he is.

Last known address.

Look, he changed his address often.

All I can give you is where I know he lived five years ago.

Do you understand?

Stop laughing. It's not funny.

What's not funny, McGee?

Nothing. Personal...

Well, don't tell me about it.

I want you to visit the State Department's strategic analysis unit.

Visit?

I'm going to need clearance.

Visit.

Visit.

Visit, that kind of visit. Okay.

What exactly am I looking for?

Oil... in Burundi.

Don't think there's oil in Burundi.

That's why I want you to look.

And run this.

Last known address for Thomas Zuri.

Okay, multitasking, boss.

Take my money, take my money.

Take my money. Give me my candy.

You cannot buck the system, Tony.

Trade bucks with me?

If you stop forcing things, they will come to you.

Thank you, Obi-Wan.

Why don't you like immigrants?

What?!

My great-grandparents came through Ellis Island, not the first-class lounge at El Al.

I came here in the jump seat of a C1-30 with turbulence.

Whatever. My point is, you're here on a weekend fun pass. I'm the immigrant.

My family came here with nothing.

Just loads of charm, talent... and great looks.

My great-grandfather drove a truck for two dollars a day.

Took him 20 years to start his own transportation company.

And now their great-grandson, he's an NCIS agent.

So don't tell me about the immigrant experience.

Until you are one.

Any of that true?

Parts.

Is this stuck to my teeth?

Nothing sticks to you.

Do you ever think about soul mates?

They were on Decca, right?

Big hit, mid-'70s.

Sort of a disco thing?

Sing a few bar, I'll get it.

You'll never get it.

Boss.

I did what you told me to do.

You don't have to whisper.

I don't care who hears.

You want me to tell you...

Nope.

'Cause I can give you the short...

Forget I asked.

Classified satellite recon photos of a petroleum exploration firm linked to China, doing drilling in the Dajee region of Burundi.

Find anything?

Considering the money they're poured into the region I'd say yes.

Oil.

Guess who still has top-level clearance in the State Department?

Choyce. Still working for them.

Not as an employee, but as a consultant.

Plausible deniability.

You run that address Choyce gave us?

Yeah, construction site. New condos.

Original building was demolished two years ago.

Guess Zuri moved on, found a new place to live.

Four drivers, four different cab companies.

Nothing in common?

All attacked at different times of the day.

Time of death of the first driver?

2:30 in the morning.

Which was 90 minutes after he clocked out.

Second driver?

9:45 in the evening.

Two hours after he logged off.

None of them were {\officially}working when they were attacked.

Boss, in two of the attacks, the cabs had passengers.

In each case, including the admiral's, the passengers called for a cab.

They didn't just hail it on the street.

Meaning someone had to have dispatched it.

Even if they was off the records.

Meaning Bayliss, the cab company dispatcher.

He was working when every attack happened.

Probably used a bypass to channel the calls.

Bayliss did not report to work today.

Address.

Yeah, got it.

NCIS!

Warrant!

Clear.

Clear.

DiNozzo. McGee.

Ziva, pick it.

No problem.

Fives and tens. Curb cash.

What's curb cash?

Fares. Small denominations.

Street money.

Kickbacks.

Lollipop for McLoverboy.

Those real?

Fakes.

But they're really good fakes. Guy's a regular cab coyote.

Is that like a wolf in sheep's clothing?

Coyote's a person who exploits people who come to this country illegally.

As opposed to outsourcing, which is what you are.

That's Bayliss.

Attic space. He must have been hiding.

Been shot.

Still warm, boss.

Boss, MPD shut down a 12-block perimeter around Bayliss's apartment. Nothing.

Got a BOLO out on the Yamaha.

Traffic cams?

Lost the bike after three blocks. He took side streets.

How did they know about Bayliss?

McGee, Choyce's bank records and personnel file from State.

And find out who the hell Choyce called after he left here.

DiNozzo?

Boss.

Bring him in.

Get Sayda.

Yes?

No, I told you I don't want to give you her name.

I just want to cancel my credit cards.

58, 59.

60...

Well, why would you send the IRC after me? I haven't done anything.

Did you know that it's 365 steps from my lab to your desk?

Trying to get my blood pumping.

What's wrong with you?

Nothing.

Okay, this is the new, caffeine-free, non-jittery Abby.

Still waters. Deep.

You're hiding something, and I seek it.

Speak.

I've been seeing this girl.

That's nice.

No, actually, it's not nice.

She stole my mail, and took out $65, 000 in pre-approved credit cards in my name.

You have really good credit.

FICO score's 750.

Well, was.

So, this is, like, the best worst love story ever?

Abby, what do I do?

It's like I'm nuts for this girl, you know, and she's just... nuts.

She stole your heart, she stole your money.

Arrest her.

That's the thing. That's what she wants.

She admitted everything to me.

That is a check for $65, 000.

Yeah, her father's Earnest Leonard. He's worth billions.

She does this for fun.

She's been arrested twice.

She steals people's money, she buys things.

The crazy ones are the best.

See, the weird thing is...

I kind of dig it, you know?

Love is never having to read her her Miranda rights.

But she's going to do this to somebody else.

Throw her psycho ass in the brig.

I love you, McGee.

That should be enough.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6...

Shall we try this again?

Has something changed?

You might say that.

Recognize these?

My banking details. This is outrageous.

How did you get these?

Warrant, and this is what we found.

Two deposits. One for $100, 000.

The second for $150.000.

From a bank in Burundi.

Now, we're still following the paper trail, but I think we all know where it's going to take us, don't we, Mr. Choyce?

To Burundi political extremists.

With well-oiled pockets.

You sold them information about Zuri.

I want a deal before I say anything else.

First the truth.

Then a deal.

Look, I didn't sell them anything useful.

It was information from years ago.

Old addresses and phone numbers, that's all.

He was paranoid!

He moved six times in the first year!

There's no way they could find him!

Was one of these old phone numbers used by a taxi dispatcher named Bayliss?

Zuri only drove cabs for a couple of months years ago.

Then he quit.

Wrong. He went gypsy, off the books.

You gave them Bayliss's name.

Bayliss is dead.

Got to believe he told them where to find Zuri.

My God.

How did you communicate with them?

They contacted me.

By phone?

Pre-paid cell. They called me.

Non-traceable.

I tried.

Name.

Tie him to Burundi terrorism.

Send him to Gitmo.

No lawyer, no phone.

Good luck with that deal.

Delphin Abaka.

Delphin Abaka.

No luck, boss.

Abaka's off the grid.

He's a damn teacher at a university, McGee.

Also served in the Burundi army 20 years ago and hasn't been teaching since last semester.

Guess when he realized we were involved, he tried to use Sayda to find out what we knew.

We probably know less than he does.

The DMV needs a thumbprint to get a driver's license.

Means Zuri's in the system.

If we can match his prints to DMV records, we can get his current alias and an address.

That's a nice try.

If Zuri's still out there, he's got his fake hack license with him.

I'm sorry, boss. I already looked.

I think I know where we can get a fingerprint.

Sayda's locket.

Scanning.

Let's see what we got.

It's a partial right thumb.

Degraded by age, but...

I have enough whirls and deltas to get eight points.

How long is this going to take, madam?

You know what? It's hard to tell.

Tell, Abby.

Somebody needs to switch to decaf.

Could be seconds, could be hours if he used his other thumb for his driver's license.

He's not in the DC system, or Virginia or Maryland.

Do you want me to run all 50 states?

It's getting really late.

Not that I'm... tired or anything from a lack of caffeine, 'cause I'm not.

At all. Really.

My meter is running full blast, Gibbs.

Relax, Abs.

I think you just solved the case.

I did?

Meters.

A form of measurement used extensively in Europe.

Taxi meters, DiNozzo.

Bayliss keep meter records for gypsy drivers?

Sure. Without records, he wouldn't be able to keep track of kickbacks.

Bayliss's laptop.

Every driver who hasn't reported to work for the past 72 hours.

I'm only interested in meters that are not running.

I don't follow. But I'm willing to give it a try.

I get it.

Zuri heard about other cabdrivers being attacked. He knows they're after him.

So he would have stopped driving after the first attack.

Put it up.

Dumping all females, non-African-Americans, everyone over 50 and under 30.

Match the rest against our victims' stats.

Five left, boss.

Sayda?

That is Thomas.

That is my husband.

Are you sure?

Yes, I'm sure.

Give me the address, McGee.

I want to come with you.

I want to see him. Please.

Please.

Yamaha's on the side. Engine's still hot.

McGee, you're out front. DiNozzo, you're with us.

I will not have a... to ruin my country...

It's time for you to die.

If you're going to do this, do it, but do not harm my wife.

Shut up, shopkeeper. Be still.

Be still, or she will end up dead like you.

If you think I would let you return to my country, you are wrong...

NCIS! Drop your weapons!

You.

Hello again, Professor Abaka.

Thomas Zuri?

Yes.

You're a hard man to find.

Perhaps... not hard enough.

My wife...

He is okay.

Thank you.

Seven years is a long time.

Thomas.

Sayda.

I have missed you so much.

You have been in my heart every moment.

Sayda.

I wrote to you.

So many letters. Hundreds.

But I just received one letter, Thomas.

And then I heard that the army had... killed everyone in our village.

I survived.

We both survived.

I thought...

I would never see you again.

I'm so sorry, Sayda.

I am so very sorry.

It's okay, Thomas.

I understand.

I am just glad you are safe.

Sayda.

Sayda.

Let's go in.