(door creaks)
(broken glass crunching)
Light's still on.
You cut the alarm?
I cut the phone lines.
Detectors won't signal the cops. It's cool.
(footsteps nearby)
Whoa, whoa, whoa. You heard that?
Somebody's up there.
Hey, you're cool, right?
No problem.
(clattering)
(gasps)
Hey, what the hell did you do, man?
That guy came out of nowhere!
Come on, man, we got to go.
Come on, man, move!
- We got to go! - Oh, my God.
(door slams)
♪ NCIS 9x16 ♪ Psych Out Original Air Date on February 21, 2012
== sync, corrected by elderman ==
♪
- Morning. - Good morning, Tony.
Why are you so preppy?
Well, probably because I went to boarding school.
But I think you mean "peppy."
And that's because it's...
L.E.S. day!
Les?
L.E.S.: Leave and Earnings Statements.
- Oh, you mean payday. - That's another way of putting it.
Wait a second.
This isn't right.
This isn't my L.E.S.
It's McMoneybag's.
Somehow he makes more money than me?
Maybe they pay people what they're actually worth.
(chuckles)
Morning, Ziva, Tony.
How much do you make, Tim?
What are you doing with my L.E.S.?
Well, you know what I find offensive
and more than a little strange, is that somehow
you make $253 a week more than me.
- It's all about withholding. - Yeah.
What exactly
are you withholding?
Yeah, you're withholding something, all right.
You're too smart to hack into the system
and try and give yourself a little weekly bump, aren't you?
Or should I call
Fred Seymour in Accounting and find out?
GIBBS: Hang up, DiNozzo.
Time's money.
We've got a dead Navy reservist in Arlington.
Boss, did you know that McGee
makes more money than Ziva and me?
Keep me out of this. I know.
he gives a lot to charity, and you should, too.
The DiNozzos are great humanitarians. You know that.
We got a dead hu-man. Let's go.
(whispers): Was that a pun?
MAN: Hey, why are we being arrested?
- Breaking and entering. - But we didn't steal anything.
TONY: You shot
the victim twice. One missed,
and the other just... grazed him.
Besides, he was already dead.
You sure about that?
He off'd himself, man. Come on.
We just happened to be here, man.
Wrong place, wrong time.
Look, we could've taken some of this stuff
on our way out, but we didn't, man.
Was there anybody else in the house?
I don't think so.
Get 'em out.
MAN: Man! Next time,
I'm picking the place we hit.
Interesting.
Doc. Hanging or the gunshot?
The math.
For centuries, hangings used a standard dead drop,
but then in 1872,
an Englishman named William Marwood
calculated a formula using a man's height,
weight and the distance dropped
to ensure a cleanly snapped neck.
So who is our well-versed victim?
McGee.
Dr. Robert Banks,
psychologist and Navy reservist on active duty.
High-level security clearance at the Pentagon.
Dr. Banks here clearly used
Marwood's formula and a double knot, thus ensuring
the "hangman's fracture."
Yeah, hoping for instantaneous death.
His goal was to fracture the third and fourth vertebrae.
Judging by the angle of the neck
and the petechial hemorrhaging in his eyes,
his efforts were successful.
But who shot him?
Robbers.
Well, then we'll have to see
which killed him first,
the bullet or the rope.
TONY: Boss, local LEOs say there's a woman outside
claims to be the victim's doctor.
Let her in.
Dr. Kate's sister.
(gasps)
Are you his doc, Doc?
Yeah, and his friend.
My condolences, Dr. Cranston.
ZIVA: Gibbs, found Banks's cell phone-- you're not gonna believe
who called him four times last night.
Dr. Cranston.
He... hanged himself, huh?
- Looks that way. - Well, whatever it looks like,
Gibbs, you look deeper.
Robert was one of the strongest people I knew.
He wouldn't do this; couldn't.
I know someone killed him.
So, you spoke to him last night, Doc?
Several times.
About what?
I'm afraid the rules of confidentiality
prevent me from giving you any details.
Doc, guy's dead.
Robert was a brilliant psychologist.
We went to school together.
What about since then?
We were close colleagues.
His wife filed for divorce a few months ago.
He was having a difficult time prior to that as well.
At work? He have enemies?
He was consulting on a special project for the Pentagon.
What kind of project?
The kind that gets you killed, apparently.
M.I.S.O.--
Military Information Support Operations.
I'm old-school, Doc.
Psy-ops'll do.
Yeah, well, then you know they use mind games
to confuse and manipulate the enemy.
I know that.
Credit card statements over the past few months
show that he was writing prescriptions for himself.
Oh, not true. That's the kind
of background fabrication psy-ops excels at.
Really? And you know this because...?
Because Banks invented it.
That what you and Banks talked about?
We talked about his divorce.
He wanted me to start seeing his daughter
to help her get through it.
Turns out he was having just as much trouble as she was.
He was getting increasingly anxious,
but whenever I brought up his daughter,
his panic would subside.
He lived for his little girl.
She was his hope, his whole reason for living.
People who have any hope at all, Gibbs,
they don't take their own life,
they embrace it.
Banks didn't kill himself.
WOMAN: Forgive me if I'm having a little trouble with this.
Bobby had been so unpredictable lately.
He just...
he just wanted Amber to be happy.
It's all because they broke up.
He still loved her.
You made this happen.
Tell me about your relationship, Mrs. Banks.
Why does any couple split after so many years?
We grew apart.
He'd become... different.
He had become moody.
He wasn't the man that I married.
And... he started
to take it out on both of us.
Mom... You know
he wasn't the same, Amber.
GIBBS: Life insurance
has you as the sole beneficiary.
Yeah.
His, um, university and naval death benefits.
He had an additional policy, too.
$4 million for both of you.
But...
wouldn't the suicide change that?
No, no,
not in this case-- he had a policy
that had an exclusion clause.
You sure you didn't know about the money?
Hey, finally. You work
with Fred Seymour in Accounting, right?
Uh, you need an accountant?
You bet I do.
I got a salary dispute.
Oh. Are you feeling overvalued or undervalued?
That's an interesting question.
It's not me, actually, it's McGee.
Who's McGee?
My coworker. The tall, pasty guy
who wanders around sort of... (moans)
You know, he spends way too much time indoors. Needs light.
Shouldn't I be talking to him?
Technically.
Mm. That's a good point.
There's probably some
underlying feelings of inadequacy
between the two of you, right?
No.
What do you mean, inadequacy?
Did your father ever tell you
he loved you?
You're not from Accounting, are you?
Why did you pretend to be? I didn't.
You did.
You just saw what you wanted to see.
I'm not sure I want to see you anymore.
Oh. Are we breaking up already?
Who are you?
I'm Dr. Samantha Ryan, DOD, Psy-ops Division.
I've been told to come and see a Special Agent Gibbs.
Yeah, you found him. Ah.
You a brain gamer, right?
That's head brain gamer to you.
I oversee all military information support operations.
I understand you're investigating
the death of Dr. Robert Banks.
Agent Gibbs,
word in my office.
Huh.
Hi, Leon.
VANCE: Dr. Ryan,
what a surprise.
You know Director Vance.
You seem to know everybody.
Yeah, it's my job.
Oh, Gibbs,
feel free to ask Leon anything you want.
We go way back.
DiNozzo,
escort Dr. Ryan to the conference room.
Dr. Cranston's waiting.
Yes, sir.
Cranston?
RYAN: Hey, Director, you look good.
RYAN: Authority...
suits you.
I got a call from SECNAV.
Oh, great.
No, it wasn't.
Somebody steal his golf bag?
SECDEF wants to know what NCIS is doing investigating
an M.I.S.O. employee.
Investigating a possible murder.
I know you're not big on fine lines,
Gibbs, but I am.
This happens to be one of them.
Dead guy's Navy, Leon.
That makes it ours.
So,
how do you know Dr. Ryan?
Long story.
Love to hear it. She's an old colleague.
Let's just say we spent some time together at the war college.
Ah, private time?
Classified time.
(chuckles): Okay, okay, enough said.
Be careful,
she's inquisitive. Yeah, well,
so am I.
Gibbs.
Not like her.
Do you exercise?
I walk.
Why?
Because you look skinny.
Skinnier than the last time I saw you.
Gave up dairy.
I'm lactose-intolerant.
You always were into the latest fads.
Well, it's not really a fad; it's a diagnosis.
So, anybody want coffee?
CRANSTON/RYAN: No milk.
You two went to school together, right?
Hmm, yes. Does that turn you on,
Agent Gibbs?
A couple of coeds?
Afterwards, she went clinical,
and I went military.
Very different points of view.
Oh, and, um, full disclosure:
we both slept with Banks.
She was interested in his mind.
I... She's doing it.
You're doing it.
I'm doing what? Oh, the games.
The nonsense.
And I'm leaving.
No, no, you're not.
Sam, we think Dr. Banks was the victim
of psy-ops scheme.
We?
He was my patient.
That's ridiculous.
Is it?
Agent Gibbs, I will answer any question that you have,
but not here and obviously not with her.
Why not?
National security.
Next meeting, my office, my rules.
My investigation.
My friend. Our friend,
Rachel.
Banks was working with an M.I.S.O. field op named Mitchell
on an assignment.
You probably should talk to him.
(phone ringing)
Yeah, Doug, I'm on my way.
Hey, Gibbs.
Don't trust these people.
Especially her.
- I don't follow. TONY: Which part, Mitchell?
Dr. Banks can't be dead.
I just spoke to him yesterday.
He's gone.
No.
I would've been informed.
MITCHELL: DOD. Pentagon.
There's a chain of communication that would've been engaged.
Mitchell.
He's dead.
You are a reservist working for psy-ops,
yes?
Former Navy.
I'm not cut out for this head game stuff.
I... can't do it anymore.
They're, uh... they're reassigning me.
You worked with Dr. Banks for how long?
Almost a year.
Banks is a smart man and a good father.
He was going through a rough divorce,
an ugly custody battle.
The doctor have any problems with his coworkers?
Threats or disagreements? Look, this is
a restricted M.I.S.O. field unit-- all information
is case-sensitive and has to be...
We're cleared.
Answer the question.
It's a court order.
Here.
Former Marine Second Lieutenant Kyle Baxter.
Received a general discharge six months ago
because of a negative emotional stability eval.
- Who wrote it? - Dr. Banks, of course.
Give me a verdict, Duck.
Which came first, the chicken or the egg?
Well, always been a chicken man myself.
Oh, that's my conundrum.
The heart continues to beat
after a hanging for a few moments.
The doctor here was shot and continued to bleed.
Now, with the amount of blood loss,
I would hypothesize that the bullet hit him
milliseconds after his neck was snapped clean by the rope.
- Definitely a suicide? - Without doubt.
But he was only hastening the inevitable.
- What are you saying? - His kidney and liver functions
were deteriorating at an alarming rate.
Based on what?
Abby is determining that.
Suffice to say, had the doctor not taken his own life,
I would estimate he had but... six months to live.
ABBY: ♪ A little fun, just now and then ♪
♪ Is relished by the best of men. ♪
- Abby. - Hi, Gibbs.
It's called "scoundrel patter,"
courtesy of an Old West con man
named Umbrella Jim Miner.
Supposed to confuse the suckas.
Gibbs, watch closely-- the hand is quicker than the eye.
♪ Attention given, I'll show you ♪
♪ How Abby hides the peek-a-boo. ♪
Hm.
I win.
So, I guess you're not a sucker.
Or are you?
All of these pills
came out of Banks' medicine cabinet.
One is a benign blood pressure medication.
The other two are dangerous psychotropic stimulants that
have been wreaking havoc on his liver and his kidney functions.
I can't tell the difference.
Somebody switched out his prescriptions, Gibbs.
It's like the oldest con in the book.
- Poor sucker. - Yeah.
So, Banks thinks that he's just taking his daily meds,
when, in reality, he's taking drugs
that have been proven to cause depression
and increased mental instability.
Psy-ops.
Mind games.
He's being played, Abbs.
Question is, by who?
Chair works.
I like standing. What else
do you like, Agent Gibbs?
Answers. Good.
We make a great couple.
I like questions.
You want to tell me something about yourself?
No.
Your life story
makes you uncomfortable?
(chuckles)
You know, nonverbal behaviors
comprise 85% of all human communication.
And the most honest part of your body,
believe it or not:
your feet.
And yours, Agent Gibbs, are pointed directly at my door.
Okay.
I have a question for you.
Speaks volumes.
Do you like pancakes?
I love pancakes.
(knocking)
Dr. Ryan?
Yes, Special Agent Gibbs,
Ross Kilmer,
my assistant; Ross's specialty
is to charm and disarm.
He has less patience than I do.
If he's country,
I'm rock and roll; works out.
Marine Lieutenant Kyle Baxter.
We're coming up empty-- you got anything?
Um...
just about his psych eval.
That's it.
Personnel list for the op Banks was working on.
You know what I really like, Doc?
Paper.
I-I really... love paper.
(electronic squeaking)
Where'd you find these?
One was hidden inside Banks' couch.
The other one was in his mattress.
Oh, wow, the milliguass reading's off the charts.
These are electromagnetic field emitters.
Hm, someone tried to give our victim a tumor?
Yeah, more like headaches and nightmares.
High levels of EMF pollution
can cause interference with REM sleep cycles.
I'll sleep when I'm dead.
Personnel files from Ryan.
List of possible killers, huh?
But we don't trust it, right?
Run them anyway.
- Anything else from the house? - Yes.
Found this from Banks' office safe:
operations protocol for a top secret psy-ops mission.
It appears our victim was working
on this last. TONY: But the only person
that could confirm that'll probably lie to your face.
I'm getting used to that.
McGee,
connect the gizmos you found back to psy-ops.
I can track the parts, boss,
but whoever built it most likely
is gonna cover their...
tracks.
E-mail issues again?
Trust issues.
From now on, I want paper
from the source.
Paper?
ZIVA: You heard the man, McGee.
He said he wants psy-ops personnel files.
A lot of them.
But any one of them could've planned Banks' murder.
This could take days. Weeks.
There's got to be a million personnel files here.
I don't even know where to begin without a search key.
Well, I suggest we begin alphabetically.
(sighs)
(mellow piano music playing)
(chuckles)
(wry laugh) Could I get you
a beer, Agent Gibbs?
No, I'm good.
You look nice.
I assume what you need to talk to me about
can't wait till morning?
Murders are time-sensitive.
General.
Dr. Banks
took his own life.
And I'm not sure if this is the time or the place.
Would you excuse me for just a moment?
Mm-hmm.
Wow, people in this town
love to talk shop and eat cocktail weenies.
I, um, I get the impression by your hoodie
that you don't really like parties that much.
No, I like parties, when there's something worth celebrating.
Everything all right here, Doctor?
- Can I be of any assistance? - Oh, thank you, Ross.
Um, Special Agent Gibbs
needs to speak to me privately.
And I know
just the place.
I'll, um,
I'll just wait right here.
WOMAN (laughs): Excuse me.
Feel safe, Gibbs?
Oh, I guess not everyone in here
has a security clearance.
You're enjoying this.
I'll play along.
What do you got?
(unfolding paper)
"Removal of Threats Using Drugs
and Alternative Methods."
It's a hell of a page-turner, Doc.
A real how-to.
Driving a sane person to suicide using pills
and sleep-deprivation.
That sound familiar to you?
Be very careful...
with what you're... suggesting.
This is a page out of your own playbook, Doc.
So I'm gonna ask you again.
What do you know about the death of Robert Banks?
And I'm gonna tell you again.
Nothing.
I'm giving you a chance to come clean, Dr. Ryan.
(sighs) Help solve the murder of a close friend.
I already told you the truth.
(whispers): Whose truth?
Your sister used to look at me like that.
Like what?
Eh, the cat who ate the canary.
I didn't exactly tell you everything earlier, Gibbs.
Lot of that going around.
During one of my sessions with Banks,
he mentioned a sensitive national security issue.
Yep. You still should've told me.
I know.
I want to catch his killer.
That makes two of us.
It's not exactly a skiff, Doc, but it'll do.
There was a project
called Operation Alborz.
Okay.
- Details. - No idea.
- What was Banks's involvement? - He didn't tell me.
Well, what did he tell you?
I got the sense that someone wanted to make sure
he couldn't discuss it with anyone, ever.
Someone?
(phone rings)
Gibbs.
- Boss? - Yeah, McGee. Go.
I've been going through the military personnel files--
all dead ends.
Ryan's info didn't help?
I'm shocked.
Which brings us back
to former Second Lieutenant Kyle Baxter,
the guy who was drummed out of the Marines because of Banks.
Pick him up.
We still can't find him.
(static over phone)
Hello?
(static continues)
Is there a problem? (closes phone)
Gibbs,
if something's bothering you,
I'd really prefer you tell...
(turns on radio)
(pop song playing through static)
(radio static increases)
(music playing though static)
(radio stations changing)
(radio static increases)
(radio static continues)
(static grows louder)
(radio static remains loud)
(clicks off radio)
Is that a b...
(softly): Good night, Ryan.
Sleep tight.
(grunts) Kyle Baxter.
Former second lieutenant in the Marine Corps.
Superior IQ. Scored off the charts
on the Officer Qualifying Exam.
- Where is he now? - Last known address was in Norfolk.
He was hand-picked by the M.I.S.O. 18 months ago
for its secret ops unit.
- Headed by Banks. - Yeah. Until...?
Well, Baxter was thrown out for antisocial behavior,
violent tendencies.
Eventually discharged from the Marines.
Fell off the grid a few months after that.
'Course, if we could use our computers
Nope. to dig deeper, we...
No. could...
No, McGee, we can't.
Where'd you get that, boss?
From my basement; it's a bug.
Find out where it came from, the old-fashioned way.
(electronic tones playing)
You're ringing, McCheater.
(electronic tones continue)
Boss, I only kept it on to monitor Baxter's
incoming cell phone calls.
But this call's still live.
Where? Storefront,
600 block of Chapman Avenue; looks like a cafe.
That's five minutes from here.
Tony, Ziva, go.
Trace the bug.
With or without my...
NCIS?
Who wants to know?
Four minutes. Nice.
- You guys are good. - You're not Baxter.
Absolutely not.
Kilmer. Ryan and I work together.
Gibbs knows.
Baxter left me his phone, wanted to see if you guys
were, uh... tracking him.
You can have it.
He's got others.
Where's Baxter now?
You got me.
I wish you luck, though.
Whoa-hoa. You think we're just gonna let you walk away?
Well, yeah.
Why not?
Beautiful day.
You guys have a good one.
Huh.
A resort in Cancun?
James Drenden.
RYAN: Hey, you guys.
BOY: Hi, Mrs. Ryan.
How did you know where my son went to school?
H-His records
are all classified.
Did you follow me?
Are you following me now?
Am I under surveillance, Gibbs?
You hacked my records.
This is my personal life!
Psy-ops 101.
You approach people at their most vulnerable.
- You even the playing field, Doc. - Oh, you don't
want to play with me, Gibbs, trust me.
(engine starts, revs loudly)
I keep things confidential for a reason.
I take precautions because I have to.
And my son is off limits.
So is my place.
You don't like your own medicine, Doc?
I am not the enemy!
You bugged my home!
VANCE: Tell us about Operation Alborz.
As I...
shared with Agent Gibbs--
national security.
(beeping)
Alborz.
Mountain range in Iran.
Some of the highest peaks.
Apparently, very beautiful.
People flock from all over...
Less sizzle, Doc, more pop.
After we invaded Iraq in 2003,
Iran started pouring billions into their nuclear program.
Recruited scientists to produce plutonium for them.
The Alborz mission was to use psy-op techniques...
to destabilize Iranian nuclear scientists.
Cripple the enemy without firing a shot.
- 21st century warfare. - And the Iranians got wind?
Possible.
And you think they could've done
the same thing to Dr. Banks in retribution.
Look, I'll do
whatever I can...
to help you find Robert's killer.
I want this over as much as you do.
ABBY: Gibbs, get over here.
I processed Banks' laptop.
The encryption
was, like, super complex.
But you got in.
I did-- with a little help.
I just followed the tracks of someone else
that hacked his computer, like, way before I did.
Someone was wreaking havoc on Banks' life
using his own computer.
Like, draining his accounts
and buying stocks that he never ordered,
sending threatening e-mails. More mind games.
Yeah. Even if he googled something, he would get misinformation.
Like bogus sports scores and even fictional news stories.
He wasn't only being drugged,
his entire reality was being manipulated.
By who?
From what I can tell, someone in Mexico.
I traced a ghost I.P. address to a room in a resort
in Cancun.
The security video is a little blurry,
but I got an instant hit with facial recognition.
Kyle Baxter.
The same guy Mitchell implicated,
and the same guy that Banks gave a bad psych eval to.
Gibbs, this is the guy we're looking for.
Boss.
Can I? Yeah. Go, McGee.
Embargo's over.
ABBY: James Drenden?
- Who is that? TONY: That's the alias
Kyle Baxter was using.
Got a hit on a passport under Baxter's alias.
Says he was
on a flight arriving from Mexico City
to Dulles two months ago.
Two months is a long time.
He could be anywhere by now.
Well, according to the IRS,
he's currently employed as a bartender
in Georgetown. Why would Baxter
still be using the same alias?
Honestly, Gibbs, had I known you were looking for me,
I would have been here days ago.
Yeah. Spare me the psy-ops charm, Baxter.
We can prove you were in Mexico.
Okay, so?
So, drugs found in Banks's system
were manufactured close to the resort.
You had the expertise.
And you were messing with him.
(laughs)
Wow. Yeah, they're good.
You're looking at a psy-ops package here, sir.
You can't trust that.
Hmm. So, they set you up to take the fall?
Obviously.
Look, Banks discharged me with violent tendencies.
Next thing you know, I'm the fall guy.
And you took the bait,
hook, line and sinker.
Now, why wouldn't they frame me? It's perfect.
Prove that you're telling the truth.
May I?
I never left my phone or that matchbook.
Call this number.
Ask for Simon.
He'll straighten it out.
Baxter was the best damn C.I. we've ever had, Director Vance.
For how long?
He's been working undercover
with the DEA for the past 12 months.
Helped us shut down smugglers we've been after forever.
He was under DEA control for the last year?
Had our eyes on him the whole time.
If you think he was involved with this,
you're wrong.
Somebody real good's been playing you folks.
So the person Dr. Ryan has been pushing, Gibbs,
isn't our killer.
(knocking)
Cranston's sessions with Banks.
She's a quack.
No, she's not.
She's good, and it made listening
all the harder, 'cause...
he was in real trouble.
Is that your apology about Baxter?
I have a job to do.
NCIS was looking into a sensitive area
at a critical time.
We have protocols in place to protect our mission.
It's part of our rule book.
Yeah, well, I got some rules of my own, too.
Rule number 42...
Don't ever accept an apology
from someone who just sucker-punched you.
I didn't apologize.
Do you have children?
I did.
But you already know that.
Yes. Kelly.
And I'm sorry.
Hey, Doc, my feet aren't pointing at the door.
The other day, I was picking up my son, Parker,
from soccer practice, and he was...
walking toward the car, and not once...
did he look over his shoulder.
And that meant everything to me.
In my job, I take precautions,
and I don't know how you found him, but...
I believe everybody deserves one secret,
and...
I'm asking... you
if I can have this one.
Okay.
Thank you.
I owe you...
assuming you'll let me know when you want to collect.
I want to collect now.
Someone with your knowledge killed Banks.
I want to know who.
Whoever it is has lost sight of...
who we are and what we do.
You got a name?
(whispers): Good luck.
Banks's psy-ops files are blocked, deleted
or in no-go territory.
Here. Try this.
It's Ryan's cell phone.
GIBBS: Isolate calls from psy-ops, government-issued lines.
There's five or six different numbers here.
Cross-reference with incoming calls to Banks
over the past month.
Uh, there's just one, boss, and they've
placed multiple calls to Banks over the past two weeks.
Kilmer? Baxter?
No. Brian Mitchell.
The psy-ops liaison
who was working with him directly.
No, wait a minute-- there's a second
cell number on Banks' account,
and Mitchell sent dozens of tech streams to it.
Put it up.
I can't. They've all been erased.
Ziva, you're with me.
They're in the cloud memory, but it'll take time.
DiNozzo, dial both numbers
three times; hang up after one ring.
Boss?
Do it. And keep sending me locations
on Mitchell's cell.
It's a fail-safe call.
It's an old spy craft trick.
Means something's going wrong.
Parties are supposed to meet at a predetermined location.
- Kind of a rookie move, isn't it? - Yeah.
That's why it just might work.
Why did you call me, Brian?
BRIAN: I came as soon as I could.
We agreed it wouldn't be safe.
(exhales) This will never work.
You'll never have what you want if you don't listen.
You know what I want.
You don't deserve it.
You messed up big-time.
I made your father look unstable.
I gave him the drugs; I did what you said.
I said to make it look like he killed himself.
If they figure out I'm involved, I'll get nothing.
I want that money.
I just want you to be happy.
I want to be happy.
This isn't about us anymore.
You killed my father, Brian.
I will not go down with you for this.
Oh, I'm afraid you are.
Put your hands behind your back.
- She's as guilty as I am. - He's lying.
No, he-he forced me to do this.
Somehow, I doubt that.
That's a nice girl.
30 years, take her home to meet the folks.
Amber used me, just like she used him.
Mm-hmm. and I never saw it coming.
I thought she was another broken teenager
caught up in an ugly divorce.
Doc...
you look for the good in people.
There... there's not much to find.
Hey, Ziva and I are going for drinks.
You want to come?
Only if you're buying.
Agent DiNozzo.
Fred Seymour from Accounting!
Actually, good news.
We traced the problem back to a clerical error,
which resulted in overpayments to you, Agent McGee.
Oh. Oh.. (laughs)
Now the bad news. Thanks to your request
that we review your file, uh, we discovered
that we've been short on your FICA withholdings
for the previous five years.
- What? - So you owe us $2,997.33.
Payable immediately.
Enjoy your night.
What?!
We'll be at the bar if you want to drown your sorrows.
What the...?
What?
(phone ringing)
Yeah. Gibbs.
Hi. What are you doing?
Well... I'm sleeping.
It's 4:00 in the morning. What?
Trying out my new phone.
My other one disappeared.
Yeah? That what happened, huh?
Sorry.
I don't get much sleep.
I've got a lot on my mind.
Whose head you messing with tonight, Doc?
(Ryan chuckles)
Probably my own.
I shouldn't have called.
How can I help?
I just wanted to...
thank you for...
figuring out what happened to Robert.
Doing my job.
I think you already knew, though.
You make people feel safe, Gibbs.
It's a gift.
Well, people need answers.
I need breakfast.
Okay.
When?
How about now?
Well, I-I know a little...
diner that's open 24 hours.
Perfect.
Are you asking me on a date, Ryan?
It's the middle of the night, Agent Gibbs.
You tell me.
== sync, corrected by elderman ==