You know the drill.
Just need your John Hancock, Dr. Mallard.
I like digging 'em up a lot better than putting 'em down.
Funerals are too final.
With exhumations, there's excitement, mystery.
Thanks.
Till next time.
Oh, uh, gonna need the case number.
Case number? Yeah.
I never got the 27B-stroke-6 with the official NCIS case number.
I will have to have a word with Mr. Palmer.
Can I have him, uh, fax it over?
Uh, yeah, sure, that's fine.
You're a repeat customer.
Though I sure hope you haven't taken up grave robbery as a hobby.
♪ NCIS ♪
Phoenix
♪
McGee, why on earth would anyone want that?
Want what?
Something new to buy?
I'm in, what do we got?
It is called a life recorder.
You wear it around your neck.
Takes photos of whatever's in front of you every few seconds and uploads everything to the cloud.
Everything?
Am I missing something here?
Tony, your entire lifetime would be recorded.
Even searchable.
That's horrifying.
But it would help me find my keys.
Yes, and it would allow you to look back on any moment in your entire life.
Perhaps some moments should not be remembered, huh, like the last three months? Actually, you know, I think I'm with Ziva on this one.
There are some things I'd rather forget.
Really, like what?
Like the look on my first girlfriend's face when we broke up.
Haunted me for years.
That's very mature of you, Tony.
How much is this thing?
Can't buy it yet, it's being beta tested and I have been chosen as one of the testers.
I get my unit in the next few weeks.
What? You think Gibbs is gonna sign off letting you wear this to work?
Come on, Gibbs?
The man has no sense of...
What?
Is he...
Something on your mind, DiNozzo?
No.
Get moving.
Got a dead sergeant in Brookland.
Meet you there.
Where are you going?
No 27B-stroke...
We have to return him.
We have to return him right now.
It's a corpse, Mr. Palmer, not a wedding present.
W-when Agent Gibbs finds out that you exhumed a body without...
He found out. Agent Gibbs.
Um, as acting coroner, I take full responsibility.
Go. Leaving.
What are you doing, Duck?
Who the hell is this guy?
Commander Bruce Roberts.
I presided over his autopsy 12 years ago.
Some things never sat right with me, and I want to take another look.
I get it, you're bored.
But you cannot go around digging up bodies whenever you like.
Well, technically, as medical examiner, I have that authority. Technically, you're not the medical examiner right now.
Palmer's in charge.
Well, technically, that's true.
You had a heart att*ck, Ducky.
Your own doctor told you to take a break.
Why just a break? Why not just make it permanent?
After all, the world has managed to get along just fine without me these past several months.
All right.
All right, let me hear it.
Well, when I conducted the commander's autopsy, I concluded that his end was accidental.
I mean, the man literally drank himself to death one night.
It seemed very straightforward.
But then I read this two days ago.
Since when did you start reading the obits?
Well, your day will come.
In any case, I saw that the commander's father had passed away of a rare genetic liver disorder.
One that most certainly would have been passed on to the commander.
Had I known about his condition, I would have done my autopsy differently.
There is a class of poisons that would mimic fatal alcohol intoxication in someone with Roberts' defect.
In other words, his death may not have been an accident.
It might just have been a m*rder.
He looks pretty peaceful for a m*rder victim, huh?
And for a guy about to fly to Malta.
Coach, 12 hours, packed like sardines.
Ooh.
It's worth it.
Malta is lovely this time of year.
You know, most people don't realize how historically rich it is despite its small size.
In fact, Maltan temples are widely regarded as the oldest free-standing structure Hey. in the...
Thank you, but we really prefer you stop doing that.
Oh. Oh, okay.
That's all I really knew about Malta anyway.
But you can tell us what Ducky was doing exhuming a body without telling Gibbs.
We heard.
I have no idea what you're talking about.
Ziva?
Get the blinds.
Okay, ha, ha, ha, yeah.
This is all very, very, very funny.
Uh... uh...
We know you know.
Look sharp.
Yeah, that black light's not gonna show us anything.
Ducky's working on a cold case, unofficially.
End of story.
What about this one?
Uh, boss, meet Sergeant Raymond Hill.
Cabdriver was waiting outside to take him to the airport.
Finally, looked in the window.
Cabbie called the po-po, po-po called us.
Give me time of death?
Last night around midnight.
In fact, I already have a preliminary cause of death.
Carbon monoxide poisoning?
Um, r-right, yeah.
Uh, you can tell by the cherry-pink skin discoloration most commonly seen in the...
Carbon monoxide poisoning.
Okay, I will just be right down here then.
Place has a gas furnace, boss.
Looks like these hatches were fried shut.
None of the carbon monoxide detectors went off.
But they can't all be faulty.
Also found 50 grand in the case there.
Way above the sergeant's pay-grade.
It's clear he'd been freelancing.
Freelancing at what?
Sergeant Hill was assigned to the Marine Corps Security Force Regiment out of Yorktown.
They provide security to high-value Naval installations.
Nuclear vessels, reconnaissance satellite facilities, the alien bones from Roswell.
That was the Air Force. Try and stay focused.
The sergeant authorized for travel?
No, so he was about to go U.A.
On a one-way ticket, was he in trouble?
Nope, never been arrested.
Above average physical reports.
I talked to his neighbors.
He was quiet, he kept to himself.
Bank statements.
Credit cards.
Library card.
We ran everything on him we could.
The most remarkable thing about him is how unremarkable he was.
And whatever the motive for his m*rder is...
You got nothing.
Sounds worse when you say it like that.
Not worse.
Wrong.
We got something.
Got a dead Marine.
Tell me you got something, Abbs.
I do.
Much better.
I don't know where to start.
Well, it's just that ever since the kaboom, you've sort of been walking around looking like Mr. Sour Puss.
But I know that on the inside, you're one of the kindest people I know.
So, I thought it would be nice if today, your outside reflected your inside.
I know what you did for Ducky.
That was very, very sweet.
All I did was retroactively approve the exhumation.
Well, it's a good thing you did because Ducky's cold case is warming up.
I ran the tissue from the exhumed body against the class of poisons that Ducky suspected, and he was right.
The commander was m*rder*d with a poison called hepatic glycoside oleandrin.
Where do you get it? Nowhere.
It has to be synthesized from the oleander plant, which is everywhere.
And with Commander Roberts' genetic condition, the poison made his death look like Fatal alcohol intoxication. Yup.
The next part you're gonna love... or hate.
After I finished Ducky's cold case, I started working on your hot one.
I took a look at Sergeant Hill's laptop and found a copy of Ducky's exhumation order.
What was Hill doing with it?
Not my department.
I just know that your new dead guy was really interested in the old dead guy that Ducky was digging up.
In fact, Ducky's exhumation order is one of the last things that Hill looked at before he was k*lled.
What are the odds, Gibbs?
What's a copy of my exhumation order doing on Hill's computer?
I don't know.
How'd he get it?
I don't know.
And what's the connection between Sergeant Hill and my cold case?
Ducky, I don't know.
Well, unfortunately, neither do I, which, I presume, is why you're here.
However, clearly the two cases must be connected.
Which means we finally have a lead on the hot case.
Aw, that's fantastic.
Gonna need a list of the people you talked to about the exhumation, Duck. Of course.
And we're going to need all the files you have on the cold case.
Yes, I understand.
Since I am not officially reinstated as medical examiner, regulations bar me from working on any active investigation.
As medical examiner.
That's what I just said.
In any medical capacity.
The horse is dead, Jethro.
I'd appreciate it if you would stop b*ating it.
Rule 38.
Boss?
What?
Rule 38?
Your case, you're lead.
Let's go.
So Ducky's cold case didn't k*ll himself, he was m*rder*d.
According to Abby.
I'm sorry, I don't buy it.
She is rarely wrong, Tony.
Nah, it's... I don't doubt that Abby found the poison.
It's just... have you seen the Duckman moping around?
I mean, ten bucks says the old coot planted the poison himself so that he could drum up some business.
Coot?
I hope you're referring to the aquatic bird with vigorously strong hind legs.
And sex life, yes, I was.
Ah.
Can we help you, Ducky?
I hope so-- Ducky has point.
Excuse me?
The cold case is our best lead.
It was Ducky's case.
Ducky has point.
Rule 38.
Yeah, but he's not a... you can't do a...
Oh, got it.
Then, let's get going, shall we?
Uh, there is evil afoot that must be cast asunder.
Okay.
Navy Commander Bruce Roberts was found dead 12 years ago.
It was ruled an accidental death.
Now, it's been reclassified a m*rder, courtesy of Abby Sciuto.
At the time of his death, he taught avionics at the Naval Academy in Annapolis.
Uh, his record shows he applied to aviation school, various flight programs, even NASA's Astronaut Training Program several times.
But, uh, he was repeatedly denied.
Mm-mm.
Oh.
Duck.
Oh, uh, personal life?
Roberts came from old family money.
He-e-e-e inherited a bundle.
Uh, always lived far below his means.
Wife deceased.
One grown daughter.
Well, it would be prudent to talk with her.
She's already on her way, Ducky.
Oh, uh...
And comb the archives for any old evidence from my cold case.
There must be something there.
Well?
I think I'm gonna like this.
Thank you. Hello.
I'm Special Agent Ziva David, this is Dr. Mallard.
Thank you for coming.
I'm still not sure why I'm here.
We'd like to ask you a few questions about your father.
My father, why?
He's been dead for over 12 years.
It is about the circumstances of his death.
Well, that's easy.
He's dead because I k*lled him.
I beg your pardon?
I was...
I was supposed to stop over the night he d*ed.
But I had to work late.
And if I had been there, he never would have drank that much.
Because he wasn't really a drinker, he was just having a bad day.
Ever since he was a kid, my dad was a really big space buff, and every few years he would apply for this position at NASA.
And he'd just received his latest rejection.
Yeah.
Ellen, your father's death was not an accident.
Of course it was.
Of course it was!
He was... no, my-my dad would never...
No, no, no, you-you misunderstand.
You see, we believe your father was m*rder*d.
It's not your fault.
It never was your fault.
Wha...
Who-who k*lled him? Why?
That is what we're trying to find out.
Do you know this man?
No.
Who-who is he?
He's someone who's very interested in our investigation into your father's death.
We need to find out why.
D-d-don't worry.
We'll get to the bottom of things.
I promise. whatever happened to your father will be avenged.
Thank you.
Will you excuse me, I have, um...
Here, oh, it's just outside.
Agent Dakota will show you.
Well, that was emotional.
I suppose I'm not used to dealing with the living.
I noticed.
Ducky, you should not make a promise you might not be able to keep.
I'm certainly gonna try.
I'm sure, but she inherited $4 million when her father d*ed.
She might actually be the m*rder*r.
You know, exhumations are generally frowned upon by most cultures that bury their dead.
Great. But in Vietnam, after several years, the graves are dug up and bones reburied in a ceramic pot.
That's Taiwan, not Vietnam.
I warned you about Wikipedia.
Dr. Mallard, how awesome you're here.
Again. Duck?
Relax, Jethro, I'm not here as M.E.
Purely in my consultant capacity.
I wish to be briefed.
Well, I was just about to tell Agent Gibbs about some nasty ol' chemical burns I found on Sergeant Hill, our most recent victim.
They appear to be quite old.
I'd say over a decade, at least.
These X-rays are blurry.
Yeah, I know, I can't figure that out.
I took them three times.
How many times have I told you, Mr. Palmer, don't use the A.E....
Ducky.
Oh.
Uh, part of the burn appears to be from by a round-bottom chemical flask, which makes sense, um, these are chemical burns.
From what?
Well, that's not possible to determine from...
I actually was able to work backward from the contracture of the scarring to establish a likely pH and molarity level of the chemicals involved.
Ah, mmm, clever.
What am I looking at?
The short-list.
These chemicals are all precursors to hepatic glycoside oleandrin.
The poison that k*lled Roberts. Mm-hmm.
Sergeant Hill likely got these scars in a makeshift lab while trying to create this poison.
Making him... our prime suspect.
Oh, that's very clever.
Okay, you've been briefed.
What do you got? Well, presuming that Sergeant Hill was indeed the k*ller, that would explain why he was running.
I was exhuming his old victim.
He had to be concerned that my inquiry would lead back to him, as it has.
But...
That's the radiation alarm.
That's the code for Abby's lab.
No, no, don't evacuate the building.
It was a false alarm.
It was a false alarm!
Hey.
You okay?
No.
Almost blew out my eardrum.
Much better.
I don't know if you noticed, Gibbs, but my radiation alarm went off.
Abbs, the dead guys in Autopsy noticed.
Okay, you can relax.
Because my sensors did detect a radiation source on the evidence, but the amount was too small to be dangerous.
I just think that my sensitivity knobs have been turned up to 11 ever since the big kaboom.
Abbs, this the uniform Roberts was wearing when he was buried?
The dead 12-year-old mold give it away?
Yeah, so, I found an odd dust in the fibers.
It appeared volcanic.
I was able to identify its origin before my alarm woke the dead.
Gibbs, meet JSC-1, a lunar-soil simulant.
What?
Well, basically, it's a cocktail of lava and rock that's mixed together to mimic the soil on the Moon.
NASA researchers cooked it up decades ago for NASA research.
What was Roberts doing with it?
I have no clue.
I also don't know why it irradiated and set off my alarm.
However, I did manage to find the one guy in town who would know.
Bring me a souvenir, please.
JSC-1, huh?
Nope, haven't seen it in years.
You sure?
Well, that is what we were hoping you could tell us.
Let me see, let me see, let me see.
What have we got here?
Huh? Pyroxene, plagioclase crystals...
You know the funny thing about plagioclase crystals?
No.
Neither do the aluminosilicates.
Neither do the alu...
Never mind.
Yep, that's the real deal.
Which is what exactly?
JSC stands for Johnson Space Center, where this fake Moon rock was created.
NASA needed a knockoff because the real stuff was way too expensive for their lunar engineering studies.
And this material was, uh, radioactive?
Oh, not inherently.
A few researchers irradiated some JSC to test its ability to withstand solar radiation.
Show-offs, mostly.
Where do you think Commander Roberts might have gotten it?
He could've come across regular JSC in any number of university labs.
It was unregulated.
Even the irradiated stuff?
No, no, no.
No, great care was taken to dispose of any JSC that was irradiated.
I mean, the only thing it would be good for is to make your lawn glow as some kind of depraved party trick.
That and making a dirty b*mb.
12 years ago, Commander Roberts was m*rder*d.
I presided over his autopsy.
I'm sorry, which one is Roberts?
Uh, the one with the deviated septum.
Ah. And which one is that?
Ah, okay, got it: Roberts, m*rder*d.
We now suspect that Roberts was k*lled 12 years ago by Sergeant Hill, then Private Hill, Nice of you to join us, Agent DiNozzo.
Sorry, I was just in... Now, where was I?
Moon dirt. Ah, right.
We also learned that when Roberts was k*lled 12 years ago, he was in possession of a radioactive lunar-soil simulant called JSC-1.
With enough, it could be used to make a dirty b*mb.
Which one's Roberts?
The one with the deviated septum.
All of which begs the question...
What was Roberts planning doing with the fake Moon dirt?
Why did Hill k*ll him 12 years ago?
And who k*lled Hill two days ago?
Okay, three questions.
So, where to start?
That's four questions.
Uh, Commander Roberts.
He's the key.
Um, uh, if I may...
Thank you very much.
Commander Roberts was a decorated Navy officer and a teacher, not a t*rror1st, so... what could he want with a dirty b*mb?
He wasn't selling it-- didn't need the money.
The guy was loaded.
Well, there's clearly more to this man than meets the eye.
While Mr. Palmer attempts to reconstruct his physical reality, we need more data to construct a viable schema of his interior psychological state.
Which means?
Go talk to his old C.O.
Excellent idea.
Hey, Duck.
Nice catch.
She looks pretty fiery. Better let me handle this one.
Cease fire!
sh**t, safe and vent your weapons!
Mmm.
You may now check your target!
Nice sh**t', Tex.
I'm Special Agent DiNozzo. This is... Yeah, I know.
The boys from NCIS.
If you think I'm gonna trample on a man's grave, forget it.
I'm sorry, did I say "trample"? Did you say "trample"?
I know what trample looks like, and you got trample written all over you.
sh**t, make ready! Now, step back.
g*ns aren't toys.
Lock and load! Way to handle that.
Ready on the line!
Commence fire!
Cease fire! Cease fire!
Trying to impress me?
Think I just did.
Check your target!
What can I tell you?
Like I said on the phone, Commander Roberts was my finest officer. But nobody's perfect.
What's your point?
What were some of those imperfections?
He didn't take rejection well.
Are you talking about his flight school applications?
Flight school, astronaut training, yeah.
After the third rejection, he started writing me these letters.
There weren't any in his file.
That's because I pulled them.
They didn't reflect well-and-faithful discharging of his duties.
Which means...?
He started making... veiled threats.
Saying the DoD would be sorry they rejected him.
But he was just letting off some steam.
I didn't... think it was necessary.
I didn't see any point to tarnishing his record.
Do you have a copy of those letters?
Of course I do.
You have been a very bad carbon monoxide smoke detector combo unit.
Well, define "bad." Be happy to, though it might get a little technical.
And Ducky already b*at you to it.
But I will find a home for that inside...
Oops. ...myself.
Yeah.
Smoke detector. Well, I figured out how Sergeant Hill's smoke detector malfunctioned.
It connects with the thermostat wirelessly, and someone remotely infected the entire system with a virus.
That caused the furnace's exhaust fan to short out, and it disabled the alarm.
Item number two: Commander Roberts' old PC.
The hard drive is corrupted, but I think I found our missing link between our victims.
They were e-mailing each other 12 years ago.
Yeah, it looks like they were arranging some sort of buy.
I think Commander Roberts was the buyer and Sergeant Hill was the seller.
Any idea what he was selling? No, but...
I think it's illegal because Roberts was really paranoid about the police.
Dirty bombs are illegal. Yeah, maybe Sergeant Hill was part of some WMD smuggling ring.
I think something went wrong with the sale, because in the next e-mail Roberts threatens to turn Hill in to the Feds.
Three days later, Roberts was m*rder*d. Yeah.
What worries me is that Sergeant Hill was just k*lled two days ago, so is this smuggling ring still active?
Abbs, can you take this new info and find out if Hill had any other buyers?
They might know something.
Of course.
WMD smuggling ring, here I come.
Agent Gibbs.
Agent Gibbs, I am sorry to barge in like this, but...
I'm afraid that Dr. Mallard is losing it.
The other day, he actually yelled at me.
And then once Commander Roberts' body shows up, he starts issuing orders like he's Attila the Hun...
Dr. Mallard! Hi.
Mr. Palmer.
See, that-that... that was just... that, uh, I w... I was, um...
Wishing you weren't here?
Yeah. Um...
Gentlemen.
Mr. Palmer is managing quite admirably.
However, he is slightly overwhelmed with his new position.
Something I can relate to.
You're doing great, Duck.
You may have single-handedly uncovered a WMD smuggling ring. Yes, but I promised Commander Roberts' daughter that her father's death would be avenged. Now I might have to tell her that he's a t*rror1st.
I don't know how you do it. Is that why you're here?
To find out how I do it?
"Avenged."
I mean, who even talks like that?
Someone who cares.
It's 99% of the game.
Yeah, well, it's a game I fear I underestimated.
My cold case is about to turn into a hot one.
Lives could be on the line. Well, won't be the first time. But now I have a front row seat, and I'm not sure I'm up to the task.
A task that you handle with such aplomb, even when the building where you work explodes around you.
Funny.
I was dismayed that the world could get on without me.
Now, it seems... well, it just might be better off.
Yeah, it's Gibbs.
Can you come in? I found another buyer.
Yeah, Abbs. I'll be right there.
Abby found another buyer.
Stop it, Tony.
It's not funny.
Who's laughing?
Talk to me.
It's nothing, boss.
Mm.
I thought I was picked to be a beta tester in this thing...
Just got an e-mail saying that it was a mistake.
It was no mistake, because you got to have a life to get a life recorder.
What?
Second buyer.
DiNozzo. You. Talk to me.
I'm sorry, I had a lot of sugar.
Abby dug up an old e-mail from Sergeant Hill discussing another sale.
The buyer didn't use his name.
He just signed it as "D.F""
We traced the e-mail to a cell phone, which led to a P.O. box. Which led you here.
And whoever he is, he's pretty good at staying off the grid.
No credit cards, no aliases on his DMV record, no life, really.
What's he hiding?
I don't know, but his electricity use is way above the norm.
He's doing something up there.
There's an entry around back.
You enjoy doing that?
A little, yes.
Someone's definitely inside.
Ziva, McGee, take the back.
DiNozzo, come on.
McGee bet me ten bucks it was... gunrunners.
I don't think it's gunrunners. I think it's counterfeiters.
Oh, lookie there.
NCIS!
Freeze!
Not this again! Bloody hell!
McGee!
Going someplace?
Not in the face, all right?
Anything but the face!
No one's going to touch your face.
NCIS.
You're cops? Cops are cool.
I love cops. I mean, I'm very, very fond of the police department. In fact, I did a benefit concert for the Springfield Police Department.
Made 'em a lot of money.
What's the charges?
A benefit concert?
Rock and roll!
Right?
Live Aid!
Don't you remember this?
Biggest concert of all time.
Remember that?
I think I need to call my agent.
Our rock and roll god goes by the name of Del Finney.
But his real name is Otto Smeleznin...
Smeleznizincochfunchin.
Funchtinscotchkin.
Whatever. He's a musician.
Guy was a one-hit wonder in the '80s, but by the '90s he'd blown through all his dough.
What about now? Now, he is a maintenance man for the building we found him in.
He doesn't look very... terroristic.
He's into something. Whatever it is, he's not talking.
Or singing.
Duck.
After you.
This should be entertaining.
Hello, Mr. Smeleznovichik.
Uh, Finney.
Del Finney.
Do you know this man?
I can't say that I do, no. Really?
I can see your carotid artery pulsing in your neck.
The moment this photo appeared, your heart rate sh*t up to, ooh...
I'd estimate 130.
You bought something from this guy.
What was it? I don't know what you're talking about.
Why'd you run? I thought you were fans.
I mean, th-that's why I've been keeping a low profile.
You know... It can't get much lower.
I was big once, okay?
I had the number three single for six weeks in 1982.
You would not believe the people on my doorstep wanting my autograph, okay?
Or looking for payments on overdue bills.
You owe a lot of people a lot of money.
Are you hiding from fans?
Or from creditors, Mr. Smeleznovichik?
My name is... Finney. Finney.
Yeah. Del Finney.
My apologies.
It must be really hard for you.
I mean, so much talent, the adulation, and now it's... all over.
I mean, what happened?
I bought a zoo.
And I bought a lighthouse.
Few other things, you know.
Then the checks... they stopped coming in, you know, so I was...
You buy that other stuff from that guy?
I think I need a lawyer.
Yes, perhaps it is time to see a lawyer.
On the other hand, maybe it's time to...
♪ Stand up, Johnny ♪
♪ Be a man... ♪
♪ Don't run from the truth, even if you can. ♪
Thank you so much.
You know my song.
Yes.
The question is... do you?
Hey, you guys, you missed it.
It was classic, beautiful.
Ducky is an artist.
Did you learn what Sergeant Hill was selling?
Yeah. Not quite what we were thinking.
That mean he wasn't running a WMD smuggling ring?
No WMDs, no gunrunning.
He was selling Moon rocks.
Moon rocks?
What do you mean? Like... like rocks from the Moon?
People buy those?
Apparently rock stars do.
And collectors. Are you kidding me?
Moon rocks are worth ten times their weight in diamonds.
I told you he was gonna love this.
But it's illegal to own a Moon rock.
I mean, you can't buy 'em. When did he get his?
About 12 years ago.
He said it was stolen from a museum.
I think I know what he's talking about.
After Apollo 17, NASA distributed Moon rocks to every country in the world.
A few others to museums.
About 12 years ago, there was a high-profile break-in at The Naval Museum of North Carolina.
Their Moon rock was stolen.
Sergeant Hill. Had to be him.
Then he sold the rock to Del Finney.
No, he couldn't have. Why?
Because NASA investigators quietly recovered the rock two years later from a janitor.
And I only know this because I was at a Star Trek convention in 2002, and I met...
Okay, McGee, I got it.
So if the real Moon rock was returned to the museum...
What did Del Finney buy?
A knockoff.
Our one-hit-wonder bought a knockoff.
His Moon rock is made out of JSC-1.
NASA's artificial lunar dirt.
Yeah, the chemical structure is unmistakable.
Very clever.
Duck?
It's a con.
Duck?
Sergeant Hill was running a con. He took advantage of the high-profile Moon rock theft to sell knockoffs.
Del Finney, Commander Roberts and others all thought they were buying stolen Moon rock. Wait.
Did we just solve the case?
No.
Oh. No, our con man, Sergeant Hill-- we still don't know why he was k*lled.
Well, my vote is, disgruntled buyer.
If I had bought a Moon rock for a hundred grand, and then I found out it was just some punk rock, I would be totally ticked.
But Del Finney thought he was getting the real McCoy.
And before he handed over the cash, Hill gave him a sample to send to a lab.
He was told to say that he... found the rock while hiking, and thought it might be a common lunar meteorite, and he wanted to verify it.
What lab?
NASA.
Okay, there is no way that anyone at NASA mistook that knockoff for a lunar meteorite.
Hmm.
Who was running the lab 12 years ago?
Next time, I'm gonna play you blindfolded.
I'd like to see you win every once in a while.
Agent DiNozzo... and, uh...?
Special Agent Gibbs.
I've heard a lot about you.
Did you Keyser Soze us?
Can't believe I fell for that.
I'm gonna keep this Hubble pen.
You know this guy?
I already told your agents I didn't.
I remember.
The funny thing is, when we looked into the NASA rock verification lab that you used to run, this guy Hill was doing protective services in the building.
Are you sure you two have never met?
You know what?
I'm not gonna say another word until I talk to my lawyer.
Quod erat demonstrandum.
Case closed.
La fin de l'affaire.
Très bien, Ducky.
Bravo, Ducky. You're a natural. Ah.
Well, I-I must admit that the... the role does appear to suit me, but I can't... I can't help thinking that there's something I'm forgetting.
It has not forgotten you.
Remember the promise you made.
Thank you.
You are profoundly welcome.
Hey, Duck, fun's over.
Need to get you out of the bullpen now. Go.
Now? I thought I might assist with the paperwork.
No. McGee can take care of that.
Only place you're going is Autopsy.
Back to...? You're cleared for duty, Duck.
Oh.
Oh.
How wonder... ful.
Back to, uh...
Okay.
Oh, I suppose, uh, I'll just be going back to Autopsy.
We are finally whole again.
Yeah. Yeah. Yeah, yeah, no, no, no, no, no, no.
I know that you're in a time crunch, I do, yeah.
But you know what? I have reports to write, as well, and I have a misplaced liver I can't seem to find, and to be quite honest, I haven't gone to the bathroom yet today.
I...
Hello? Hello?!
Hello. Oh! Dr. Mallard.
You scared the, uh...
You-you... you scared me.
I can see that.
Can I help you? No, but uh, maybe I can help you.
I would love that, but I'm sorry.
Agent Gibbs said...
I'm cleared for duty.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh, thank God.
Who, may I ask, is that?
Who? Oh.
Uh, the Kane County coroner sent him over.
He wants a second opinion on a, uh... a subdural hematoma.
It apparently happened after a bar fight.
They want all their ducks in a row before they up the charges from involuntary manslaughter to second-degree m*rder.
How exciting. I know.
Isn't it?
Well then, have you checked to see whether this fellow was on anticoagulants?
If so, he could have sustained a hematoma even with a minor injury.
Good idea, Doctor.
Hello.
You wait here a moment while I change into something more comfortable.
Hmm?