WOMAN: — Chrissie in Linguistics finally got engaged.
Hooper won that bet.
Matt upstairs won the Oscar pool.
And I guessed Hypochondriac Carl's self-diagnosis-of-the-month.
Turns out, he actually had cancer.
Treatable skin cancer, but who knew?
That's about all you missed while you were out.
I'll go over vending machine changes tomorrow.
(computer trilling)
Are you running RSA keys?
Yes.
The encryption's not the problem.
These e-mails are useless, not to mention a week old.
Was it always this dark in here?
Can we turn on the overheads?
Fluorescent lights make me violent.
Plus, that Conrad Award on your desk is a m*rder w*apon waiting to happen.
Tell me about it.
You're just tired. I've got those caffeine eye drops if you need...
Stop.
Get the boss.
Now.
Go.
Two weeks ago, a Naval Intelligence Officer was k*lled in Budapest, Hungary.
A b*mb in his hotel room. Local fuzz and NCIS field office found squat and the case went cold.
Until now, because...
We just flagged an e-mail.
Sender is anonymous, but the recipient is an overseas alias we've been tracking.
It mentions a rental address in Virginia
«where you can lay low and won't be disturbed.»
This proves there's an operative in the States.
I mean, this could bust the whole case wide open.
I will get with the FBI and NCIS...
No.
You won't.
Because you two never saw this.
What? Why? That's an order.
Understood?
NCIS
Page Not Found
— ♪ —
This is big.
I think I'm gonna need a minute. Tony, what is it? Come on.
It's not like I'm asking you to move in here.
Well... And don't say it's because my place is not handicap accessible.
But you got those three steps out front.
Yes, and the landlord agreed to bring it up to code and install a ramp.
(chuckles) Look at you.
Well... I got nothing then.
Congratulations. Very exciting. Good luck.
Really? That's it?
Delilah.
She's a special lady. Yeah, I know.
I guess moving in together is the next logical step.
And I really want her to.
(phone ringing) So of course she'll say yes.
Exactly.
Then why am I so nervous?
Hold on. Hello?
Hey, Tony. It's Delilah.
Oh, hey... Don't say my name.
Is Tim there?
Uh... yeah.
Don't let him know it's me.
I need to talk to you privately.
Oh. (chuckles) I thought you were someone else.
Um, you're the lady from the magazine subscription...
Web site?
Thought I did this online.
Um, well, let's just go back and... review them again.
Start with, um... Go slow.
Uh, start with golf and, uh... uh-huh.
(whispers): Just one second.
(gasps) Who put you in here?
Are you alone, Tony?
In my own way.
I didn't want to get Tim in trouble. If I'm indicted for treason, it's much harder to draw a straight line between you and me. What?
But I wouldn't worry about it.
The m*rder of Navy Lieutenant Kit Jones- you know the progress of that investigation?
(sighs) Well, it was, like, two weeks ago.
In Budapest. Yeah.
Well, the last I heard, they'd hit a dead end.
But that's the European Field Office.
Nothing on the down low? Maybe a... classified investigation someone's trying to keep quiet?
Oh. I thought you were the one with the D.O.D.
I already hacked into every federal database and found nothing. This is so weird.
And criminal. And it's about to get worse.
I need to talk to Agent Gibbs.
(door opens)
Tony, what are you doing in the closet?
Tony?
Finding myself. (chuckles)
Tony?
It's for you.
Excuse me.
McGEE: — You know you could get fired for this.
And why did you call Tony instead of me?
This is important, Agent Gibbs.
Lieutenant Jones was m*rder*d while trying to take down an underground Web site that sells everything from dr*gs to... hit men.
He got too close. Yes.
And now we have intel on those responsible.
In Virginia.
Intel that you were ordered to ignore.
DELILAH: — Clearly my boss was given orders, too.
But why? And by whom?
There is no reason for it.
As far as you know. That's true.
But nobody is giving me straight answers.
And when it comes to finding murderers, that's wrong.
If you don't look into it, our only lead goes cold.
McGEE: — Look, you've only been back to work a week.
Maybe you should slow down.
Slow down?
Well, Delilah, what he's saying... is let us check it first.
Right, Tim?
Well, boss, we're not... I mean, we don't even have a warrant to search the place.
I already called the landlord.
He is more than willing to let animal control check for rats.
MAN: — My lawyer called this place an investment.
It's not exactly in demand, but it's not because of vermin.
I keep up on my inspections.
Yeah, we're more concerned with your, uh, last tenant, Mr. Troutman.
Yeah, I gave your secretary the name when she called.
We ran it. Turns out, it was fake.
Huh. Yeah, sorry.
Like I said, I can't be too picky.
He was the first renter I had all year.
He paid six months in cash, but I never met the guy.
You said he moved out. Yeah.
Yeah, he was here a week, and then I found his keys in the mailbox this morning.
Thought he was gonna come back looking for a refund, but...
This-this is about animal control?
We're tracking a man who's selling illegal Mexican chinchillas.
They breed with common house rats, and the offspring are especially dangerous, violent.
Did he leave anything behind?
No. No, no, no.
In fact, he was the first tenant that actually cleaned.
Left the whole place smelling like bleach.
Mm. Bleach.
Does that mean something?
It dissolves Chinchilla fur.
Oh.
You guys... you're not gonna tear up the floor or anything, right?
Oh. Well, you hope not, but, you know, sometime...
I mean, probably not.
'Cause, I mean, you know, it's not the Taj Mahal, but no reason to make it worse.
TONY: Yeah.
Well, you can check it out after, if you want.
No, no, no. No, no, no. I'll take your word for it, I guess.
I got a bum knee, you know, and, uh, surgery tomorrow, but stairs have been m*rder.
Yeah.
Well, I don't know about chinchillas, but there's no blood spatter anywhere.
Yeah, the only thing left behind was a partial print on the base of the toilet and this used tissue.
You sound a little disappointed, Tim.
I didn't think you wanted to find anything on Delilah's little witch hunt.
Yeah, don't start.
Things were just getting back to normal.
I can't believe she convinced Gibbs to go along with this.
Not an easy task.
So if there's no blood, why all the bleach?
Considerate renter does seems far-fetched.
Professional wipe-down?
Could mean your partial print's valuable.
(cell phone ringing)
I already sent photos for Abby to run.
Oh, hey. Maybe it's Delilah again.
Hello, Abby.
Really? That's interesting.
Okay, thanks. Prints?
Mm. That was fast.
I'm just not sure if it's good news or bad news.
Why? Who's our mystery renter?
Our victim — Lieutenant Kit Jones.
He d*ed in Budapest two weeks ago.
According to his file from O.N.I., Lieutenant Kit Jones was a loyal and hardworking cyber specialist.
DELILAH: — Part of an interagency task force trying to shut down servers for a Web site called The Phoenician Exchange, or PX, for short.
Then a b*mb decimated his hotel room in Budapest.
Jones was the only casualty.
Body? Destroyed.
But phone logs show Jones made a phone call from his room seconds before the b*mb went off.
National police had jurisdiction.
By the time the agents from our field office in Europe got there, evidence had gone «missing».
Payoffs.
All for a Web site?
Not just any Web site.
A big one. You've heard of Silk Road?
Right.
Uh, well, it's-it's kind of an underground Amazon.com for drug traffickers. The PX is an offshoot.
You've heard of Amazon?
Yeah, the big one.
The PX is a middleman between sellers and buyers.
dr*gs, g*ns, fake I.D.s- everything in one secure location.
You just point and click.
Black market. No names, no traffic monitoring.
Law enforcement can find the site, just not the servers.
Accounts for 20% of all the illegal dr*gs sold in the U.S., Gibbs.
Yeah, well, that's big. BISHOP: — The only way we fight is through the work of specialists like Jones and Delilah, actually.
I'm just a cryptologist in a dark office.
Jones was on the front lines.
He personally tracked the site's former webmaster.
BISHOP: — Heidi Partridge is awaiting trial at Dandridge Correctional Facility.
Leaves a hole in the operation.
DELILAH: Oh, she made millions.
They'll have no trouble filling the position.
Unless Jones already has.
You think Jones faked his own death to go work for the bad guys?
Explains a lot.
Mm-hmm.
Except for Melody Hanson.
His grieving fiancée.
MELODY: — We were supposed to get married last Saturday.
We wanted a big wedding with lots of family and friends, so we waited until we could afford it.
Almost two years.
If only we had known.
There's no way you could've.
After the...
After what happened to Kit, I, uh... I was able to cancel the flowers and the chapel, but we were gonna have a reception at the restaurant where he proposed.
You ever heard of Leo's?
No. You want to try it?
I had to pay for the catering.
And the cake.
I have so much food.
(sobs softly) Please, would you take some?
Because I have to get it out of my house.
(sobs softly, sniffles)
The lieutenant was a good man.
Mm-hmm.
Smart guy.
Top of his class at Stanford.
He always committed 100% to everything he did.
He like his job?
Yeah.
I mean, y-yes, of course he did.
He... he d*ed doing it.
He d*ed serving his country.
Last time you spoke, he talk about anything out of the ordinary?
Wedding veils.
(chuckles softly)
He wanted me to wear one.
I think they're outdated.
Look, it's, um... it's like I told the agents overseas, Kit was excited.
He called me every day while he was gone.
Except one. When was that?
The day before the expl*si*n.
I didn't give it much thought at the time, but now... I don't know what to think.
MAN (over P.A.): Visiting hours for Pod Four will be over in 20 minutes.
More visitors.
Can't even enjoy what little free time I have.
Who are you with, gentlemen?
NCIS.
I'm Special Agent DiNozzo, this is very Special Agent Tim McGee.
Miss Partridge, we'd like to ask you a few questions about the Phoenician Exchange Web site.
As you know, I'm still awaiting trial and won't incriminate myself.
But I've developed a little system to make all of these interviews easier, for everyone.
You'll start with... a happy face.
If your questions stay on task, you keep it and we keep talking.
I was a kindergarten teacher.
Before you started running the world's most wanted Web site?
What's that? An «uh–oh» face.
But you can still earn back your happy face.
Unless we get a sad face first?
I see you were the «A» student.
More like teacher's pet.
McGEE: — You're facing charges for narcotics trafficking, money laundering and computer hacking.
Like I've stated publicly, I was hired to keep a Web site functioning and secure.
On a purely code level.
I had no actual knowledge of what was being sold.
So you're saying you became The Wolf of Sesame Street by accident?
Programming was a hobby.
I found myself on certain message boards and... stumbled into things.
That's the beauty of the Internet.
Anyone can be anything.
Do anything.
Until Lieutenant Jones came along.
Gold star for him.
Who took over after you were arrested?
Uh-oh.
We're willing to talk plea deal if you can give us a name.
We're thinking Lieutenant Jones himself.
This interview's over.
What?! I didn't even say anything!
Your questions are violating a deal I already have in place.
No, we read your current plea agreement.
That's not true. My new deal.
As of this morning.
He only b*at you here by minutes.
Who's «he»?
Sorry. Class rules.
Guard!
McGEE: — Well, the prison log doesn't show any visitors this morning.
Meaning it's been tampered with.
First the D.O.D., now the prison system.
Ever see Tango & Cash?
It involve a conspiracy?
Yes, it did.
And this is FUBAR.
(cell phone ringing)
GIBBS: Hey, what'd you find out?
Hey, boss, we got a problem. Turns out...
Hello?
That's weird, the signal cut out.
I had four bars, now the light's flashing.
Oh, mine, too.
Prison cell phone jammer?
Not likely. We're too far away.
More conspiracy?
How close would someone have to be?
Pretty close.
Gray sedan. Your ten o'clock.
Engine's running.
Interesting. Mm.
TONY: Federal agents. Freeze.
Turn off the vehicle. Slowly.
Relax. I can explain.
Why you're interfering with a federal investigation?
That's funny. Hey.
It's just my badge.
Case Officer Jim Brisco.
You're the ones interfering with an ongoing CIA operation.
Officer Brisco.
Director.
So how exactly did NCIS get onto all this?
Anonymous tip. I hope so.
'Cause our memo to the intelligence community was clear.
Not to mention compartmented.
Jones is still alive?
Made contact yesterday.
CIA was part of his joint task force until we pulled him on to a side project.
Undercover.
On U.S. soil?
Operation brought us stateside a week ago.
We were waiting to inform the feds till we had something.
The hotel expl*si*n was you.
Deep cover measures.
Need to know.
Jones's work on the PX servers overlapped with a CIA money laundering operation.
You ever heard of bitcoins?
Never mind, it's confusing.
Jones has and he agreed to help.
I understand — the CIA has left a bad taste in your mouth.
Trent Kort-flavored, right?
How do you know Trent Kort?
Don't. But it's always him.
Guy like that only makes my job harder.
Everybody's.
Well, I'm nothing like him.
I got hair.
I'll even ask nicely.
Please back off.
For the sake of the op and Jones's life.
He missed his own wedding.
Yes.
He knew the op could go long.
But he also knew we had a rare chance to take out the entire PX.
He left his fiancée thinking he was dead.
For her own good.
GIBBS: — Well, you tell her that.
She's here.
You brought her in?
You can't say anything.
It could make her a target.
Look, when this is all over, she'll understand.
I don't understand.
Why am I here again? I've told you everything.
We're just trying to...
Find the m*rder*r, I know.
But it's been nothing for two weeks, and now all this.
You know something.
No. No.
Can you tell me what's going on?
(clears throat)
Lead didn't pan out.
Bad info.
So my being here was just a waste of time.
We apologize.
On behalf of NCIS and the CIA.
This agent will escort you out.
CIA?
Confirmation, Leon.
That she doesn't know anything.
Two weeks is a long time.
To let a loved one think you're dead? Yeah.
Keep digging.
Quietly.
Our best sh*t at finding out what's going on is to get to that Web site.
How?
We could pose as a vendor in hopes of communicating with the site's administrator and track them.
Might only take about a week or so.
Or we find someone who already is a vendor.
It's faster. Yeah, that one.
Great.
I'll just go ask McGee.
McGEE: This is a bad idea.
TONY: — You and your little informant don't see eye to nerdy eye?
Are we cutting into his video game time?
Sampson is not little.
And he's not my informant.
I only know about him through Delilah.
Sampson and Delilah?
Yeah. She gave him that nickname when they were together.
I can understand why you wouldn't want to use him.
It's not just that; he's a drug dealer who can't be trusted. Delilah dated a drug dealer?
I don't think so.
Not illegal ones, just ones that are hard to find.
Well, I'm sure you have much more to offer Delilah than...
Sampson.
Not to mention you got the apartment key, McGee.
McGEE: There he is.
TONY: Oh, no.
What, you mean the... Magilla Gorilla there?
He uses the PX Web site to buy and sell steroids.
(sighs) We're gonna have to catch that guy?
Should've brought the elephant tranquilizer.
(car doors close)
Oh, come on.
MAN: A tendency to go rogue.
His own code of justice often different from the law.
Insubordination.
You talking about Brisco or Kort?
Actually, I was talking about your Agent Gibbs.
Confusion's interesting though.
Bottom line: — we trust our own people, Leon.
We give them certain freedoms.
Brisco should have brought us in, Kirkwood, should have followed protocol. You know how this looks.
Like CIA plays to win.
A spitting contest's still a contest.
Let us talk to Jones.
Clearly Brisco was too polite with you.
It's a flaw of his.
Jones is a cyber specialist.
Knows how to hide online.
And you moved him back here easy enough.
So why the hotel b*mb and the misinformation campaign?
Did his cover really have to go that deep?
You'd put a man's life at risk to satisfy your own curiosity?
My own professional concern.
Noted, but the lieutenant's in good hands, and if we did need help, it's FBI jurisdiction.
Protocol, right?
(exhales)
Great workout, guys.
You ran for six and a half blocks.
You better be very helpful.
Hey, I'm up for whatever you need.
TONY: — Huh? SAMPSON: — I only ran to keep up with appearances.
The fake punches were a great touch, though.
Those were real punches.
That's funny. I like you.
Uh, Sampson, we need your login info to access the Phoenician Exchange Web site.
Already have a Tor browser installed.
Said I'm up for anything, but that- that's bad for business.
It could trace back to me.
It won't. Sorry.
Ask me anything else.
Anything?
Tony, no.
(Tony laughs)
Just... Sampson — and we'll get back to your nickname in a second- when exactly did you date Delilah?
Just before Tim. Why?
TONY: — So she went from your shoe size to his.
Hey, how's Delilah doing, Tim?
I heard about the accident. I'd love to catch up with her.
She's well, but I don't think she's really up for...
She's in the building.
Really? TONY: — Yeah.
— Do you think I could... — No.
— Depends.
— I'm not risking it... for anything less than a coffee date with her.
— What?!
— Done! — Tony!
— A supervised coffee date.
(computer beeping)
— How did you get Sampson to give up his vendor access?
— Well, I guess I intimidated him.
— Where's A' ?
— She just ran to Autopsy.
— You get me for now.
— Now, shouldn't you be at your own office?
— I mean, this case isn't supposed to exist.
— I am out sick today.
(coughs)
— Are you trying to get fired?
— No. I'm trying to find out what happened to a man who we thought d*ed in an expl*si*n.
Kind of hits home for me.
And now, I am also trying to take out a major source of illegal dr*gs- dr*gs that can fund terrorism.
Which also hits home.
What is the problem, Tim?
That you getting in trouble hits home for me.
That's all.
Oh.
Yeah.
(computer beeps)
So, you into the PX's Tor protocols?
Funny that a program developed by the Naval Research Lab now makes hidden Web sites possible.
I wrote a layman's summary for Gibbs.
«There are 500 times as many hidden sites as there are public ones.
They are called the Deep Web, or Dark Web.»
Well, ow Gibbs; he probably wouldn't have read it anyway.
Find anything?
You bet your ass I did.
Classified D.O.D. security protocols.
Built into the site itself.
We developed these codes to find hidden Web sites.
But the site is now using them to protect itself.
Using our own weapons against us. Exactly.
But how did they get our intel in the first place?
Lieutenant Jones would have access to it.
Meaning he could be a double agent.
ABBY: — Gibbs, you didn't pick up.
It went straight to voice mail. 'Cause I'm already here, Abbs.
What do we got? Well, thanks to Ducky and Jimmy, we're starting to get some answers.
I analyzed the only evidence that Tony and McGee found at the rundown apartment. Dried-up tissue.
Yes. I processed said mucus and found viable traces of blood inside.
It's a confirmed DNA match to Kit Jones.
GIBBS: So, what's the problem?
What we found in his blood.
JIMMY: — A low red blood-cell count, also known as anemia.
Plus, there was a viral infection of the thymus.
DUCKY: — Both are signs of malnutrition.
Add that to the percentage of oxycodone in his blood...
A sedative, which in high enough doses, could render Jones completely unconscious.
Lieutenant is not a double agent.
No.
He's a prisoner.
I'm still waiting, Jim.
Sir... For that explanation as to why NCIS knows more about our undercover asset than we do.
Yes, sir.
A ball has been dropped.
It's a man's life.
I've got paperwork in front of me says you made contact with Jones two days ago. That a lie?
VANCE: — My people are saying Jones has been c*ptive for at least a week.
My communications have all been via e-mail.
It's possible they were written under pretense.
But, sir, if he's being tortured for intel, he never used any of our predetermined duress words.
You blaming him now, Brisco?
No, damn it. I am just as upset as you.
He was my responsibility, so let's... set this right.
You've screwed enough pooches to make a breeder blush, not to mention me.
We're out, Brisco.
I'd rather you keep this internal, Director.
As a favor?
So that call to the FBI?
Yours to make if you want, Leon. You're on the clock now.
Have been.
Whoever's behind that Web site has Jones.
Find them, we find him, Leon.
ABBY: Lieutenant Jones was smart.
Like, really smart.
The security protocol that he gave his captors was developed by the D.O.D.
And I know how to decrypt them.
Turns out, he sent us breadcrumbs.
Just sent you a packet, Tim.
Breadcrumbs that are actually backdoor hacks that allow us to see who's been accessing the site.
Coming your way, Abbs.
Okay, there's still no user names or server access to take down the site.
McGEE: — But, thanks to Jones, we're able to see local ISP access.
And somewhere the head of Leroy Jethro Gibbs explodes.
We got a hit!
It's from the private ISP of Bluemont Medical Center.
Someone at the hospital is updating the Web site.
ABBY: Okay, I'm cross-referencing patient and staff names with our case files.
Who's Ronald Troutman?
Landlord. He said he was having knee surgery today.
Ooh. He's our dark webmaster.
Let's grab him. It's no guarantee he'll talk.
Leaving Jones to die.
ABBY: — But if he accessed the PX from the hospital, that means that his computer's there.
If we could get to it, we'd have our proof.
You mean, an undercover operation of our own?
It's dangerous, but not a bad idea.
GIBBS: McGee, give me a sit rep.
McGEE: Troutman's post-op.
Looks pretty out of it to me.
Got eyes on the laptop.
Now we just need to get rid of his daughter.
Okay, send in the junior varsity.
Hello.
(chuckles) I'm. Dr. Mallard, and this is, uh, Nurse Jimmy.
Uh, is everything okay?
Of course, my dear.
Shift change, that's all. Routine checkup.
Yes, good. Which means, this would be a perfect time for you to go get yourself a cup of coffee.
I'm-I'm good.
Well, with the amount of medication they've put into him, your father will be unconscious for some time.
Yup. I.V. fentanyl infusion.
Pre-med.
Ah. I see.
Right.
Well, I will just, uh, check on his dressings here, and, uh, change his I.V. fluids.
Care to assist, Doctor?
No, thank you, but perhaps our medical student would.
She can help you cleanse the peripatellar incision.
All we need is some gloves.
You can tell your father that you were inside of him.
That's unique, right?
Maybe I could, uh, use a cappuccino.
I'm sorry.
Why don't I join you? Yeah.
So, you're pre-med. Mm-hmm.
I-I wonder if it's in any of the hospitals where I teach.
I thought you were gonna hack in.
No time.
Got to swap out the hard drive itself.
I should be able to decrypt it and find Jones before...
Jimmy, he's awake.
What are you doing?
JIMMY: Yeah, don't worry.
He's-he's as high as a kite.
Wait.
I know you.
Jimmy!
Or not.
Are there violent chinchilla babies here, too?
They were here.
(gasps) No.
But we got rid of them.
(sighs)
Oh, God bless you.
God bless you, sir.
(whispers): God bless you.
See? I knew it'd be fine.
Oh, glad you're still here.
Oh. Hey, Wheels. Hi.
Whose phone records are these?
Melody Hanson, the fiancée.
On the off chance she's not telling us something?
Or if she becomes a target.
So... I hear you're looking to become Jane Bond.
I can do it. I don't doubt that.
In fact, I'm sure... nobody does it better.
So, listen...
I know you and Tim are close.
We have showered together. Really?
Mm. I opened an envelope in this very room, and...
I need your advice.
Oh. Well, I think he's an all-in-one, body wash-shampoo combo kind of guy.
Not advice on showering with him.
I need to tell Tim something.
So, with this case, he thinks I'm trying to lose my job, but I'm-I'm not.
It's the opposite.
I'm trying to show that I can do more.
To move up.
I can understand that.
Because there's this... senior analyst opening in Dubai.
Dubai... is not... here.
I know.
Which leads me to another thing that I need to tell Tim.
Uh...
Are you saying that you're...?
(computer beeps)
You gonna check that? What?
Kit Jones' fiancée just received six one-second phone calls from a Leo S.
Who's that?
Leo's Restaurant.
It's where Jones proposed.
ABBY: — As long as the encryption isn't too advanced, we should be in Troutman's hard drive within the hour.
He could be awake by then, Abby.
So, Tony said you wanted to talk with me about something?
Yeah, but, uh, I can wait.
Okay. I can, too.
You had more to talk about? Yeah, but I can wait.
I can't. Guys, we have a big problem.
What? Is the security more advanced than we thought?
It's less. Way less.
I don't see anything.
Exactly.
This hard drive isn't encrypted. It is blank.
Did we trigger a safeguard?
It's not a booby trap.
Troutman knew we were coming.
Someone tipped him off.
Stop!
Don't move.
Who are you? What agency?
NCIS.
Who's asking?
Don't come any closer. And don't try anything funny.
I have to be funny.
It's my raison d'etre. Give me the g*n.
MAN: It's not loaded.
Walk.
Lieutenant Jones.
I knew making those phone calls was a mistake.
You trying to draw Melody here?
To explain.
I couldn't stand another day of her not knowing.
We want to help. Right.
That's what the last guy said.
Who's the last guy?
CIA Officer Brisco.
He was the one holding me prisoner.
It was a trap.
And I fell for it.
There was never any undercover operation.
CIA has the paperwork.
Paperwork, sure, but... it was all Brisco's ruse to make me think I was taking down the world's largest online drug market.
And so you think instead he was selling intel to the Web site?
I know he was.
He tortured me for security codes.
All while using the CIA to finance the hotel expl*si*n and cover-up.
So everyone already thought I was dead.
Not everyone.
Thank God you started digging.
I was afraid that no one would ever believe me.
You do believe me?
We processed the apartment where you were... held, and there's no sign of t*rture.
Because Brisco kept me drugged up and in a bathtub.
It made my...
«business» easy to clean up.
Mm.
And you escaped the night before.
If I had known you were coming, I would've stayed and baked cookies.
Hey.
I have to ask.
Brisco kept me so high that I barely remember crawling out of that place on my hands and knees.
I found a g*n that he left behind, and...
I hid in a storm drain across the street till the dr*gs got out of my system.
Agent DiNozzo, if I was in on this, why would I risk coming back for Melody?
You buy this?
Yeah.
But it doesn't help us catch the son of a bitch who did it.
CIA's disavowed Brisco.
Guy's in the wind.
And with Troutman's laptop being erased, we're back at square one.
We still got Troutman.
But we got nothing to incriminate him, Gibbs.
We got nothing to make him talk.
But if that doesn't work, we lose Brisco for good and any leverage we had to take out that Web site.
It'll work, Leon.
I hope you're right.
(clears throat)
Nurse?
Nurse, can I get another Jell-O cup? Orange this time.
That was fast.
PX.
CIA. Talk.
CIA? Badge says «NCIS».
Sorry. Ow!
You know, that's gonna hurt a lot more once the painkillers wear off.
Ow! Sorry, what's-what's... what's going on?
We know about your connection to the Phoenician Exchange and Officer Brisco.
Where is he? Okay, I must... still be a little out of it, 'cause I don't understand a thing you're saying.
You understand life in prison?
Ow, ow! Nurse. Nurse!
I think they're on their lunch break.
We need your server locations and admin passwords.
Ow, ow, ow, ow... All right, I'll give you anything you want. Just stop, stop, stop!
Locations and passwords.
All right. All right.
Just-just... tell me what those are and I'll get them. (sighs) He's playing games.
No, no, no, no, no, no. I'm not.
Just tell me how to... how to give them to you.
Do I have to... do I have to sign into my AOL or...
AOL?
Even you know what that is.
Bishop, give me your phone.
(groans) Here.
Call a lawyer. You're gonna want one.
I can use my phone.
No. Use this one.
(clears throat)
Ah.
Where do I dial?
(sighs) He's not our computer mastermind.
But his laptop was wiped.
Someone was hiding their link to the PX.
I don't have a laptop.
So... this... belongs to...
I take it back. That's-that's mine.
That's my laptop.
You supposed to be meeting someone?
Yeah. Didn't know it was gonna be a coed.
Turns out, med school's expensive.
Not what I thought I was getting into when I started buying security intel from you.
Internet's a scary place.
Then I get a tip from you that NCIS is onto me?
I wouldn't have sent you to my father's apartment building.
You never said anything about being CIA.
That's the beauty of anonymity.
My money?
And if you're thinking about negotiating me down, remember... tip-offs can go both ways.
I'll give you even more if you help me get out of the country.
Please?
I'm sure you'll figure something out.
Then we're done here.
So if you'll excuse me.
Kid.
Good luck.
BRISCO (recorded): — My money? And if you're thinking about negotiating me down, remember... tip-offs can go both ways.
That good enough?
We got it.
And my plea deal?
Yeah. It's intact.
As long as you give us the Web site.
Turn around.
(handcuffs clicking)
Better pour two.
Jones.
Uh... I'm surprised you found me.
You were smart not to go to the Feds.
You don't have to tell them anything.
I was supposed to have my wedding reception here.
I trusted you!
McGEE: It's over, Brisco.
(handcuffs clicking)
You were right.
You're nothing like Trent Kort.
You're worse.
He never denied being a worm.
You okay?
Yeah. What time is it?
Uh, almost 5:00. Why?
I need one more favor, Agent McGee.
(church bell tolling)
(sniffles, sobs)
You ready for this?
I've been ready.
Oh, and I brought cake.
(both laugh)
Hope we made it in time.
I called the judge and told him the circumstances.
He was willing to wait.
So, we... both wanted to talk to each other.
You go first.
Okay.
I think that you should go for that job in Dubai.
Tony told me about it.
And if it's what you want, then I want it for you.
Thank you.
It is.
Ever since my accident, I've felt like... a seesaw, back and forth.
Normal and not.
It wasn't until I went back to work, I realized that... normal has changed because I have.
I get that.
Working on a computer screen in a dark room...
...that just isn't me anymore.
So I do want to take the new job.
But that means one big change.
A long-distance relationship?
What?
I'll only go if we can still make this work.
I know I've changed, but you haven't, and you're still the guy I want to be with.
Did I scare you with that last part?
Yes. Oh.
(chuckles) No, I'm kidding.
Um, listen, uh...
I wanted to give these to you 'cause I feel the same way.
Just, now it'll be for when you get back.
Deal?
Deal.
JONES: Agent McGee!
We forgot witnesses.
Any chance you two can help us out?
Absolutely.