She sat in the waiting room, she clinched her hands. They couldn’t have made me as me. I had the
mask on the entire time I was in Europe. She winced; she looked at her hand
and saw that her nails had cut into her palm. There were crimson pools slowly
forming where her nails had cut into her hands, she had drawn blood. Take a deep breath, you will be fine, everything will be okay.
“He can see you now.”
****
Fort Lewis McCord,
Washington State
“Lt. Washburn, what is the po……” Sargent Mark Jackson was
never able to finish his sentence, as Lt. Washburn’s hands moved in as quick
lightening. Sargent Jackson’s neck snapped, and Washburn grabbed Jackson’s body
before it hit the floor. He dragged the body and hid it in a closet. Later that
night, Washburn took the Jackson and hid him with the real Lt. Washburn.
****
She walked into the office, she kept her head down. The only
reason she was actually standing in the office was that he always liked to have
his doors shut when he was talking to his “employees”.
“Your operations in Europe were brilliant, perfect. The
American Navy arrested a woman who matched the description of the assassin you
used. I believe you did properly dispose of her once you no longer needed her?”
“Yes sir.” Why don’t
you try finding the mask at the bottom of the Atlantic.
“We have an operation underway in the Pacific Northwest. I
do not trust the current commander in the field; I would like you to replace
him.”
“Yes sir.”
“You may go.”
****
Norfolk, Virginia
Divante, Gibbs and the Director were rooted to the spot,
their mouths slightly agape. It was the tech (who operated the sound systems
and the cameras) who spoke first; “Did she just say what I think she said?”
“Director you have known Morziat the longest, have you ever
known him to get together with a woman?”
The fact that it was Gibbs who asked
the question who asked the question was a shock.
“There was one girl, 15-17 years ago. But the suspect, she
is at least in her mid-20’s.”
“How long ago did you meet Morziat?” This came from Divante
“19 years ago, when I recruited him into NIS.”
“You recruited him?” Asked Gibbs.
“I was his recruiter, trainer and boss.”
“Wait, I can’t wrap my head around one fact…”
“And that is Divante?”
“There was pre-NCIS Morziat?”
****
In the interrogation room, Morziat walked over to the table.
Set down his folder, and looked at the daughter he hadn’t seen in 20 years. Last
time he saw her she had been a four years old, and had a nasty cut on her head
from the car accident he had gotten them into.
Her mother did not really care for him, in-fact she told him
on multiple occasions (to his face) that he was a son of a bitch. The court
hearings had been ugly, heated words back in forth and both sides went through
lawyers faster than a fat person goes through ice cream. Finally the courts had
decided that her mother was to have custody, but he was to have their daughter
on the weekends.
It was one of those weekends were a drunk driver, in a Mercedes
for crying out loud, couldn’t keep his car going straight through a green
light. He clipped Morziat as he was making a right turn to take his daughter
back to her mother’s house. They spun
around and crashed into the house on the corner. Morziat and his daughter were fine;
the people in the house (who were in the living room watching a movie) were
dead. He lost all visitations because of
a drunk’s stupid mistake. Shortly thereafter, he had moved out to Virginia and
joined NCIS.
****
“How is your mother doing Jessica.”
“She died four years ago, drunk driver caved in her bedroom while she was
sleeping. That’s karma I guess. How are you doing dad?”
“I am, was, doing alright. Now I have to figure out how my
daughter is linked to murders in Berlin and Munich.”
“WHAT?!?!?!?” Morziat laid the pictures of the bodies down
on the table, cringing as he did it. I am
going straight to hell. He quickly found out how squeamish his daughter was
as she ran to the trash can and puked.
“What the fuck dad, I haven’t seen you since I was four and
this is how you greet me.”
“You match the description of the murderer that Interpol has
put out on the wire.”
“Dad I haven’t left the United States in fifteen years. Mom
made that impossible when she used my backpack to run drugs into Canada.”
“That bitch!” She just glowered at her father. Jessica
Montiga Flourence still remembers the last night she saw her father vividly.
She had imagined a reunion with him some day, but this is not how she had envisioned
it going.
She was pulled out of her angry daydreaming by the sound of
the door opening. She turned and looked at the door. It was her handler.
****
Lt. Washburn and Srgt. Jackson were declared as AWOL at 23:46;
both had failed to report for a surprise roll-call and had failed to respond to
multiple calls and pages. The army officially began its search at 0:04.
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