Chapter Text
Forsooth, Good Gentles
"Gear up people."
Gibbs' arrival caused Tony to shove his wadded paper ammo into a desk drawer. "Let me guess, Boss. Dead petty officer in Rock Creek Park?"
"Nope." Gibbs didn't even slow down as he walked through the bullpen, knowing his team would fall into position behind him. "Dead sergeant in Anacostia Park."
Even the traffic cooperated with them that morning and they arrived at the crime scene in record time, Ducky and Palmer only a few minutes behind them. With his team photographing and gathering evidence, Gibbs squatted down next to where Ducky was examining the body.
"It appears the poor lad was tortured, Jethro. Look at these wounds." Since Tony was done photographing the body, Ducky and Palmer rolled the body to better show the wounds he'd noticed. There was little blood on the uniform considering the hundreds of large puncture wounds on his back.
"Tortured with what?"
It took a few seconds for Ducky to answer as they transferred the body to the plastic sheeting laid out. "That remains to be seen. Whatever it was, it certainly was not pleasant."
"Time of death?"
The liver probe had already done its work. "Approximately 0200 this morning, but Jethro," he waited until Gibbs was looking at him. "It took a long time for this man to die."
Gibbs nodded slowly as he stood before gathering the rest of his team. "What have we got so far?" He looked around as McGee and David came close. "Where's DiNozzo?"
"Here, Boss."
The voice came from behind them and up. The rest of the team looked up and saw Tony up on a nearby ridge as he explained his presence. "Found some thread from his uniform snagged on a bush. Looks like he was dumped from up here. Got some tire tracks."
Gibbs sent McGee up to take pictures of the tire tracks while he and Ziva interviewed the joggers that had found the body.
---NCIS---
Back aboard the Yard, they compiled all the information they'd gathered. Ziva started. "Our victim is Sergeant Ward, currently assigned as a recruiter. Unmarried, no family in the area. Left the office for lunch yesterday and never returned."
Gibbs raised an eyebrow at that. "Nobody thought that was odd?"
DiNozzo picked up the narrative. "According to one of the other recruiters at the office, a stomach bug's been going through the office. They figured he was the latest victim."
"He was a victim all right, but I don't think it was the flu." Gibbs turned to McGee. "Tell me you've got something."
"Maybe." The glare he got spurred McGee to stick to the facts. "I checked his phone records. Two incoming calls the morning before he disappeared. One was from a known gang enforcer that's been threatening recruiters offering gang members a way out. The second call was from a pay phone in Georgetown. I'm still waiting for Ward's detailed records. Some of his prior work was classified and his last commanding officer is being difficult."
"Stay on it, McGee. Tony, take Ziva and track down the gang angle."
While his team scattered to follow his orders, Gibbs headed down to the lower levels. His first stop was Abby's lab. "What'ya got for me, Abs?"
"Hey, Boss-man. What, no Caf-Pow?" His glare quickly sent her to her computer. "Okay, the tire tracks match up to the stock tires on a Toyota Tacoma truck anywhere from a 2002 to this year's model. No distinctive damage or wear pattern to the treads that we can match to a specific vehicle."
"So, we've got nothing."
Abby wasn't ready to give up. "Wait, I'm still running Ward's blood and the swabs Ducky took from the wounds." The familiar ding sent her running to her machines. Her face fell as she read the results. "No drugs in his blood sample and the only thing from the wound was traces of penetrating oil, the kind used to protect newly made metal objects, but you probably already knew that." She watched as Gibbs headed for the door.
"What about my Caf-Pow?" He pointed at the refrigerator unit on the wall as he went out the door. "How does he do that?"
He had a little better luck in autopsy. "Duck, talk to me."
"Well Jethro, we still haven't determined an exact cause of death, but take a look at this." Ducky and Palmer had the body face down, exposing his back. As Ducky explained what they had found so far, Palmer continued to measure the wound pattern. "Our young sergeant here was impaled by hundreds of specifically shaped spikes. All the wounds appear to be close to the same depth and size. They are also exactly two centimeters apart, and in perfect rows until you get to the joints that are involved. That distortion suggests that he was seated when the torture."
"What? He was sitting on a chair of nails?"
"Mmm, perhaps." Gibbs' comment seemed to distract Ducky for a moment and Palmer picked up the slack.
"As soon as we have a model of the wound tracts, we'll get it to Abby so she can determine what exactly was used."
---NCIS---
Palmer carefully mixed the polysulfide rubber compound with the accelerator until the color was thoroughly blended. Once that was done, he injected the mixture into a half dozen of the puncture wounds. It didn't take long to set up and once he had the impressions removed from the body, he dropped them off with Abby before leaving for lunch. Ducky just waved at him as he left, not even looking up from the research he was doing on the computer.
The term 'chair of nails' reminded Ducky of something from his days as a student at Eaton. He thought fondly back to Professor Vasquez, the eccentric old man with the obsession about the middle ages and the Spanish Inquisition. The lectures about the bizarre methods of death had set him on the path of his life's work. He started with what he remembered about the torture devices he could recall and searched from there. He found what he was looking for just as Jimmy arrived back from his lunch.
"Ah, Mr. Palmer, would you be so kind as to set this up so I can use the large plasma upstairs?"
"Of course, Doctor Mallard." Jimmy realized what he was looking at. "Is that what killed the sergeant?"
"Obviously not this exact one, but I believe one of those is the murder weapon. Come along, Mr. Palmer, it's time to show Jethro what we've found."
---NCIS---
"Ducky, do you have an exact cause of death for me?" Gibbs was surprised when Dr. Mallard and Palmer walked into the squad room right behind Tony and Ziva.
"No, but I do have a murder weapon. Mr. Palmer, if you would."
McGee managed to watch Jimmy stumble through trying to pull up the image for a few minutes before a growl from Gibbs got him taking the keyboard and doing it himself. As the image appeared on the plasma, they all stared at the spike covered chair on display in a museum in Europe. Even old, heavily rusted and cracked, its painful and lethal potential was obvious. They all settled in for one of Ducky's stories, except for Gibbs who gave him the 'cut to the chase' look.
Ducky compromised by giving the short version. "Yes, well, back in my days at Eaton we spent some time studying the history of the Inquisition, and I must admit even then I had a fascination for such macabre oddities and the deaths they caused. This was called the chair of torture and when you referred to a chair of nails, it triggered my memory. It was successful in getting confessions because of the brutally slow and painful deaths it caused. You see, Jethro, the poor victim would be impaled on those many spikes, but blood loss would be restricted because they act as plugs as long as the person is in the chair."
"And none of the spikes were long enough to damage any vital organs... sir." Palmer's words stumbled to a stop when Gibbs turned to look at him.
Gibbs looked back at the plasma before turning to Ducky. "So he bled to death when he was taken out of the chair? That's the cause of death?"
"I don't believe so. There doesn't appear to be enough blood loss to suggest exsanguination."
"So what killed him?"
Ducky gave him the look that made most of the agents squirm like naughty schoolboys, but had no effect on Gibbs. "Really Jethro, I won't know that until I complete the autopsy, but how many of those chairs are floating around the area?"
"Well, if nothing else, we know that Sergeant Ward certainly got the point." DiNozzo grinned as he braced, knowing what was coming.
*Whack*
"Thanks, Boss."
Ziva had a little more serious approach to the subject. "Why go through all the trouble to steal one of these chairs? They must all be in museums or private collections and worth a great deal of money. I assure you there are many other, cheaper, forms of torture."
Gibbs thought about the light oil found in the wounds. The kind of oil that would be used to prevent rust on a piece of steel when it was first manufactured. "The chair used on Sergeant Ward was new."
"I believe so." Ducky glanced back at the image on the wall. Over the years some of the spikes had been bent or fallen out. "The spikes that were used on the late Sergeant Ward were exactly spaced with none missing or damaged." He waited a moment, and then turned to Jimmy. "Come along, Mr. Palmer, it appears we're doing the majority of the work on this case."
Ziva continued to stare at the plasma after the elevator door closed behind Ducky and Palmer. "Why would someone build one of these chairs to kill a man?"
"Actually, that would be two questions, Ziva."
"DiNozzo's right."
"I am, Boss?"
Gibbs also turned back to the plasma. "Why the chair, and why the sergeant. Two separate questions. Anybody?"
"I might have something." It was said with such reluctance that set off alarms in Gibbs' head.
"What, McGee?"
"The annual Shire of the Dragon Renaissance Faire opens in two days. One of this year's attractions is a touring exhibit of weaponry and mechanical inventions of the middle ages. I just checked with my friend there and he tells me that they are expecting some torture devices as part of the exhibit."
"The chair?"
"Don't know, Boss. All the organizers know is how much space to leave for the the exhibit. The group bringing it have requested a total blackout of information before the grand opening."
Gibbs hated secrets. "So who's bringing it and what do we know about them?"
"All they know so far is that the woman in charge is a red-head with a lot of money and even more international influence and she plays the part of French royalty at these kind of events."
DiNozzo was thinking out loud. "So if we force our way in to see if this chair is part of the exhibit, we either tip our hand to whatever suspect is involved or we cause an international incident."
"Or, most likely, both." McGee groaned, knowing what DiNozzo's reaction was going to be to his suggestion. Gibbs, he knew, would be even worse. "The only way to get in without raising suspicion would be as a participant, before it opens to the general public."
Gibbs glared at him. "A participant?"
"Yeah." McGee was very pleased that he voice didn't crack.
"In costume?"
Perhaps he thought too soon, blushing as he squeaked. "Yeah."
The idea had merit, but Gibbs was enjoying watching McGee sweat. "How do you propose we do that?" Behind him, Tony was also enjoying the show.
"I already have a spot reserved." McGee spoke more into his hand than to Gibbs.
"What was that?"
Tim took a deep breath and sat up straight. "I'm suppose to take Sarah and a group of her friends there this weekend. I've had a spot for my household reserved for over a month."
"I'll bring the Director up to speed on this." Smirking, Gibbs left McGee to defend himself against his teammates.
---NCIS---
Vance was trying to keep a straight face and failing miserably. "Let me get this straight. You and your team are going undercover at a RenFaire? In costume? Complete with codpieces?"
Gibbs was also failing at his attempt to glare at his boss. "You don't have to enjoy it quite this much, Leon."
"What if McGee is wrong and the murder isn't connected with the event?"
"You mean if I spend the weekend dressed up like some damn peacock for nothing? I'll kill him."