Good Shepherd

by the stylus

A Jibbs AU, inspired by the lovely ladies at jibbsloversunited. With a special thanks to elflordsmistress for the encouragement. It's my first venture into the land of NCIS, so thoughts are most welcome.

"McGeever, are you making a bomb under there?" Tony could see only the soles of McGee's shoes protruding from the edge of Gibbs's desk. He craned his head a little further to the right, but was rewarded with nothing more than a better view of McGee's socks.

"No, Tony, I'm rewiring Gibbs's secure DSL line. There was a hiccup last week in the network and—"

"It'll have to wait." Gibbs came striding into the bullpen, coffee in one hand and a thumb drive in the other. "While you're down there, McGee, plug this thing in."

"Uh, boss, it doesn't—"

"Whatever, McGee. Just make the stuff on the little thing show up on the big thing."

"On it, Boss."

"Where's David?"

Tony sat forward in his chair. Their new Mossad liaison was a much more interesting puzzle than the Probie, beautiful and surly simultaneously. And much easier to get in trouble. "She's running late, Boss."

As if on cue, the elevator sounded and David stepped out. Tony wasn't sure if she looked puzzled or furious.

"I am sorry, Agent Gibbs. There was some… difficulty about my clearance at the gate. It will not happen again."

Gibbs cast her a long look. "Does the marine in question still have the use of all of his limbs?"

"He will."

"Fine." Gibbs turned back to the plasma, which now displayed the unsmiling face of a Marine. "Captain David Klee, head of stores in Anbar Province for the last year. Recently, one of his subordinates reported suspicious discrepancies in the accounts. Detonator cord, in particular, which is issued to every marine on the ground. Unused cord is supposed to be returned at the end of a tour of duty, but the accounts don't seem to reflect the amounts individuals report they have returned."

Tony groaned. "Boss, please tell me there's a dead body in this story somewhere."

"Sorry, DiNozzo. Just fifty boxes of files, which should be arriving on your desk in about an hour. Along with twenty marines from Klee's unit, which just shipped back Stateside."

"I do not think they will all fit on Tony's desk." Tony stared: David making a joke was unusual. Maybe a healthy breakfast and a little torture were the key to her good moods.

"Set up an interview schedule, David. List is on your desk. McGee, I want you to—"

"It'll have to wait." Director Morrow was leaning over the railing in front of MTAC. "Gibbs, my office. Hand the Klee investigation off to Brown's team."

Gibbs was already taking the stairs two at a time when Tony, with a grin, tossed the thumb drive to a disappointed-looking agent in the next set of cubicles.

Morrow met Gibbs on the top stair and ushered him into his office. "We have a situation."

"I gathered that, Director."

"A navy lieutenant has been found dead at the headquarters of Shepard Technologies." Morrow looked at him intently. Clearly there was something more to this than a dead sailor.

"Okay."

"ShepTech designs the most sophisticated weapons targeting systems currently in use by the US Armed Forces. Most of the details about what they do even I don't have a need to know. The dead lieutenant," he consulted the file in his hand, "Karen Habib, has been detailed there for the last seven months, testing a new surveillance drone. Jethro, I don't need to spell out for you how important it is that this investigation be quick and discreet—for their sake and ours."

"No, Tom. You don't." Morrow handed the file over.

"Good. Call me as soon as you know anything."

Gibbs was already moving, descending rapidly to the bullpen and heading for his desk. He paused only briefly to distract DiNozzo from his contemplation of David's lowered head. "Ow! Boss."

"Grab your gear. We have a dead sailor. DiNozzo, you drive," he said, tossing Tony the keys.

"Where are we going, Boss?" McGee was learning; he was already on feet.

"Shepard Technologies."

"No way!" He pulled up short. That was a tone he wasn't used to hearing in response to his announcements.

"Something you want to add, McGee?"

The young agent's eyes were alight. "No, Boss. Well, I mean—No. Nothing to add."

"Out with it, McGee. Sometime today."

"It's just that Jenny Shepard, the head of ShepTech, was kind of a legend when I was at MIT. She's amazing. She'd been there doing her Ph.D. when her dad died and she left to head up ShepTech. They used to make weapons, but when she took over they transitioned to guidance systems. Her first inertial navigation system was amazing—we studied it in a graduate-level physics class I took. It was so elegant, sophisticated. It used—"

"McGee. Anything to add that's relevant to the case?" Gibbs headed off what threatened to be an Abby-length spiel of which he would understand next to nothing.

"Um, no, Boss. Sorry, Boss. I mean, I'm not sorry, but—"

Gibbs started for the elevator, the others falling in behind him. As the doors closed, Tony's voice came from over his left shoulder. "Jenny, huh? McGiggle's got a cru-ush." It was going to be a very long morning.

The LEOs were clustered just inside the ShepTech lobby, looking uncomfortable. Behind them, a row of silent, dark-suited men formed a second line, effectively screening the gathered press from glimpsing anything as the door swung shut behind the NCIS team.

"Special Agent Gibbs?"

He nodded and one of the suits stepped forward. "I'm Stanley Adams, head of security for ShepTech. Please let me know if we can be of any assistance to you and your team."

The locals seemed perfectly content to let someone else take charge. Gibbs turned back to Stanley. "We'll need to see—"

"The body. Yes, sir. We've preserved the scene for your arrival. If you'll follow me." His team fell into step behind him. Two of Stanley's men were a step behind them. Stanley continued to narrate as they walked. "Melvin Driscoll, a member of Director Shepard's personal protection team, found the body this morning when he came in to sweep her office. He immediately recognized Lieutenant Habib and telephoned the office of the SecNav to report the incident. He then telephoned me and took action to secure the scene. Once I arrived, he isolated himself in a conference room. I assure you, no one but me and the Secretary himself has talked to him." The group came to a stop in front of a bank of elevators.

"David, DiNozzo. Take his statement. Then find McGee." They nodded. Wordlessly, one of Stanley's men peeled off to escort the NCIS agents, leading them into a waiting elevator.

Stanley spoke into a transmitter secured inside the sleeve of his jacket. "We're coming up." He and the other security guard escorted McGee and Gibbs into another elevator. When the doors closed, Stanley leaned forward and scanned his retina before pressing a button for the top floor. They were a disciplined bunch, Gibbs would give them that.

"Green Beret?" he asked, catching sight of the pin on Stanley's lapel.

"Three tours. You?"

"Marine."

"Bob here was a marine." Gibbs twisted around to look at Bob, a large, dark man who towered over McGee and was half again as wide. Bob, a man who didn't look like he smiled much, grinned broadly and nodded.

The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open to reveal a waiting room. At the far end, next to a set of solid double doors, a pretty woman sat at a desk, clearly trying to work while ignoring the three large men to her left. Those men, each as large as Bob, stood impassively in front of the doors. Though it didn't seem possible, they straightened upon seeing Stanley exit.

"Sir. The office is secure."

"Good work, Sanchez."

The guards parted to let Gibbs and McGee through. Only McGee wasn't following. Gibbs turned to find him studying one of the pieces of abstract art that decorated the anteroom, a brushed metal piece that looked sort of like an eight lying on its side.

"McGee!"

"Sorry, Boss. I was just—"

"I don't care."

"Right." McGee hurried to join him, pulling on gloves as he moved.

"Dust the door for prints."

"On it, Boss."

Once McGee had revealed that there were no prints to be found on the handles, Gibbs reached out to pull the doors open. They didn't budge.

"The doors require retinal and palm scans," It was the pretty woman from the desk who spoke.

"Agent Gibbs, this is Cynthia, the Director's assistant."

He shook the proffered hand. "Who has access to the office?"

"Director Shepard, Stanley, the members of the Director's personal security team, and myself can access the office alone. A few other individuals with high-level clearance have combination access—retina of one, palm of the other. I have a list printed out for you." She handed it across the desk. "I've also printed the access log for the last week. Our system records the identity of the entrant each time the door is opened."

"Who entered the office last night?"

He could hear the frustration in her voice. "That's just it. There's no recorded activity between the time Director Shepard left last night at 10pm and the time Melvin entered at 5.30am this morning."

In the meantime, Stanley had stepped to the scanner and the doors stood open. McGee lingered in the gap, gazing with something that resembled awe at the office beyond. "Coming?" Gibbs asked, stepping past him.

The naked body lay prone on a plush carpet. From the photo in her file Lt. Habib had been pretty in an athletic way, but now her brown hair hid her face, which was turned to face the huge, mahogany desk that dominated the room. Light from a wall of windows behind the desk streamed in, illuminating the pallor of the dead woman's skin. Gibbs understood immediately why even the macho soldiers who clearly composed the bulk of ShepTech's security looked somber.

"McGee, sketch and photograph. Stanley, I need to see Director Shepard."

End 1

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