NCIS (2003–…): Season 12, Episode 22 - Troll - full transcript

Are you gonna help me out here?
Feel like I'm eating the whole thing.

- I'm helping.
- Mm.

And it's your turn.

Do you love me...
more than your truck?

Tough one.

But heck, yeah, I do.

[CHUCKLES]

Do you love me more than your dog?

Now that's not fair.

- I love my Betty.
- I love my truck.

Then I guess I love you both equally.

In very different ways, of course.

[COUGHING]

You okay?

I'm so sorry.

Why are you sorry? It's...

It's a ring.

It was my grandmother's.

- Too soon?
- By years.

This is our 11th date.

You haven't even met my parents.

Well, guess this couldn't
have gone any worse.

[TIRES SCREECHING]

Look out!

BISHOP:
Morning, men.

Wow, look at these early birds.

Oh, if it isn't Jake the Snake,

who takes the cake,
never wakes and bakes and...

- I haven't had my coffee yet.
- To what do we owe the pleasure?

- Jake and I carpooled.
- And it's been a while,

so I thought I'd pop in,
say hi to the gang.

Oh, the gang.

Yeah. Why? Is that weird?

No-- I mean, maybe, but... It's okay.

Unfortunately your, uh, BFF
has yet to join the gang this morning.

- They really call us that?
- You thought I was kidding?

Look, guys, maybe Gibbs and I are
starting to become buddies, kind of,

but when I say "the gang,"
I mean all of you.

Jimmy, Ducky, Abby, every--
All of you.

- We're just messing with you, Jake.
- Mostly.

To be honest with you,
we're not even remotely accustomed

to anyone getting close to Gibbs.

Well, I'd hardly say we're close.

Our phone conversations
don't last more than a minute.

- Phone conversation?
- Like, from a phone?

They talk almost daily.

Again, very brief conversations.

Still, it sounds like you buddies
are getting buddier.

Maybe a second
covert operation in the works?

Funny, I don't remember the first.

Uh, not covert, boss,
I meant the thing with the...

The Russian intel, when you went--

You and Fornell
were at the cabin, I'm...

I haven't had my coffee yet either.

Hi, Gibbs. Glad I caught you.

I was gonna get Ellie
to return this, but...

BISHOP: It really did the trick
on our bedroom door.

Silly thing kept swelling
and jamming and sticking.

So many setups to
so many jokes I can't say out loud.

No joke. Got a dead
Navy officer in Franconia.

- Come on, let's go.
- Then I'll get to work too.

What about the rest of the gang?

Yeah, don't you want to say hi
to Ducky, Abby and Jimmy?

Well, I imagine they're busy too.
I'll catch them another time.

- McGEE: I'm sure they'll understand.
- Come on.

Victim is Navy Ensign Janine Wilt,
25 years old.

Crash occurred just after midnight.

Miraculously,
no witnesses were injured.

I can't say the same for her.
She had to be going awfully fast

to jump the curb,
smash through this place.

Yeah, but that wound
is hardly from the crash.

I mean, her throat's been cut.

Severed the carotid artery.

The poor girl tried to stem the flow
with her free hand,

but likely bled out in a minute or two.

There's a hospital not far from here.

She probably tried to get there
before she--

McGee, you got an address for her?

Yeah, it's about all I've got, boss.

License has her living in Fairfax,

but the Navy database has pretty much
everything else classified.

Classified?

Keep digging. DiNozzo?

Yeah, I got a gym bag
in the backseat here.

Sweaty clothes and a cell phone.

No calls in or out
since mid-afternoon yesterday.

Why didn't she call 911
from wherever she was slashed?

I rather doubt anyone
would be thinking clearly

when rapidly bleeding
to death, Mr. Palmer.

"Wherever she was slashed,"
that's the question.

No GPS to locate
the starting point of the car.

Boss, "Gorton Poly Proud"?

Oh, Gorton Poly High School.
That's all the way over in Arlington.

It's about 12 miles from here.

In a whole other direction
from where she lived.

DiNozzo, we need to finish up here.

Bishop, come on. You're with me.

[GIRLS SPEAKING INDISTINCTLY]

Principal said to bring these people
to you, Coach Curry.

Thanks, Brad. Get back to class.

What can I do for you?

NCIS. I'm Special Agent Bishop,
this is Special Agent Gibbs.

Navy Ensign Janine Wilt.

- We understand she works for you?
- Volunteers, yeah.

We coach the girls' basketball team.

Why, is she okay?

This can't be.

Janine was just here last night.

Was it a robbery? Like a carjacking?

What time last night?

Uh, practice ended at 9.

She stayed after to work out
while I graded report cards.

- Left a little before me, 11 or so.
- You see her leave?

She threw me a big wave
when she drove off.

- Any idea where she was headed?
- Home, I assume.

- Was she in a relationship?
- No.

I mean, not that I'm aware of.

Between this and her Navy job,
I doubt she could find the time.

And what was her Navy job?

You'd know better than I would.

She was always
very private about that.

Something to do with computers.

[GIRLS CHEER]

What am I gonna tell the girls?

Janine was more than a coach,
she was a friend.

Do they really need to hear
that she was murdered?

Until we know more, maybe just
tell them about the car accident.

So basically we have a lost hour

between the time Ensign Wilt
left here and then crashed her car.

Check street surveillance.
Any stops she made.

Stores, traffic lights, hitchhikers...

[PHONE RINGING]

- Yeah, McGee, what do you have?
- Dug up a little more.

Actually, a lot more.

Turns out Ensign Wilt was working
as a cyber warfare engineer

with the Office of Naval Intelligence.

- Pretty young for that detail.
- That explains the classified status.

That's the "a lot more" part.

Her personnel file went dark
not two weeks ago.

It kind of makes you wonder.

Wonder what she was working on.

Maybe it got her killed.

Got any daughters, Director Vance?

- I do, I have one.
- I have three.

If any one of them grows up
to be like Ensign Wilt,

I'll be one proud papa.

Just a special kid in every way.

A kid with a very heady position
at ONI, captain.

She earned it.

Smart, squared away,

and a knack for computer analysis
and code-breaking like I've never seen.

- Please.
- She had far greater access

to code-word operations than
a lot of our more experienced hands.

Her file just went dark two weeks ago.
What was she working on?

Espada de Satanas,
"Sword of Satan."

Colombian drug ring moving product
through our ports for years.

That is, until Ensign Wilt successfully
hacked their dark Web server

and deciphered
their communications.

So is there a chance
that her murder was retribution?

Absolutely not.

We had a joint task force round up
every known member of the ring.

Every known member.

We got them all, Agent Gibbs.

Besides, Wilt's covered status
was enough to protect her.

Not enough to keep us
from tracing her to you.

- Gibbs...
- If Wilt did track down the cartel,

it's not a large stretch to think
that they would've tracked her back.

Is it, captain?

It is kind of interesting
if you really break it down, right?

Because there's the age disparity--

Hey, Bish, quick question.

The BFFs.
Are they on the phone every day?

- Are we still on that?
- Well, he is.

It's not every day, Tony.

See? What did I tell you?

Most Tuesdays or Thursdays,
they just meet for racquetball.

Okay, let's have it.
Any luck on the car?

BISHOP: Nothing yet.
The thing about traffic cams is

they only take a picture
when you do something wrong.

We went to the apartment.
No sign of foul play.

- We did bring her laptop.
- I tried opening it there,

but this is a virtual Fort Knox
of firewalls and security codes.

- Run it by Abby.
- McGEE: She's tied up

trying to get Wilt's car into evidence,

so, I called Cyber Operations.

They have their best agent
on the way now.

I don't know about best,
McGee, but I'm working on it.

- Special Agent Dorneget.
- Reporting for duty, Agent Gibbs.

How's it going, Tony, McGee...?

- You?
- Bishop.

Ah, of course.
I've seen you around campus.

- Ned.
- Look at the Dorney, all grown up.

Accelerated past probie
to special agent,

graduated to Cyber.

What can I say?
My mom was wrong.

All those years of
playing Xbox finally paid off.

Well, good.

Let's see if you can make this pay off.
Dorney, come here.

Oh, and Dorney,
I'm here if you need help. Just...

[COMPUTER BEEPING]

Uh-oh.

Yeah, "uh-oh."
You're gonna be busy, Tim.

What is it, McGee?

It's a whole bunch of
secured e-mails from ONI.

"Subject: Ensign Wilt."

It's intel on a drug ring
she helped take down.

Split it up with DiNozzo,
see what's there.

- You thinking revenge, boss?
- No, I'm thinking "see what's there."

Rather quiet today, doctor.
Everything okay?

Yes, I'm enjoying the silence.

It is nice.

It's different.
We've been at this a while,

and not one Jack the Ripper comment
or Isadora Duncan comparison.

I'm not a jukebox, Mr. Palmer.

Nor do I take requests.

And as to Isadora Duncan,
she was strangled by her scarf,

which got tangled
in the rear axle of a car.

There is no comparison.

What do we have, Duck?

Cause of death confirmed.

A single wound to the ensign's
carotid artery with a wide blade.

- What do you mean, "wide"?
- Well, see for yourself.

It's not a clean razor cut,
but rather sloppy.

The skin around the incision
is pulled and torn.

- I'll take your word for it.
- Another point of interest

are the nicks and abrasions
above and below the wound.

DUCKY: The killer likely held
the weapon against the ensign's throat

before delivering the final slice.

- What are those?
- PALMER: Neck tissue samples.

If any residue was left behind,
it may help in identifying the weapon.

I was just about to
take it over to Abby.

And still you are here?

Palmer.

Thank you.

ABBY: Why wouldn't Gibbs
thank you, Jimmy?

- He thanks us all the time.
- No, he always thanks you.

Maybe it's just the first time
you actually heard it.

Maybe. Oh, that makes me
feel appreciated.

Well, gratitude
has a way of doing that.

Gibbs likes me. He really likes me.

Sally Field.

I really, really like you too, Jimmy,

and I would really like it if you would
take those tissue samples upstairs

and put them in the fridge,
because I have to focus on this car.

Hope you can
figure out where it's been.

Okay, little Deuce Coupe,

show me what you got.

- Where is Dorneget?
- I don't know.

We looked up and he was gone.

Gibbs, I found Wilt's car

running a red light on Route 7
in Falls Church at 11:42 p.m.

No other vehicles
on the road, luckily.

- Can't see the interior.
- It's a bad shot, I know.

But she couldn't have been
stabbed yet. Both hands on the wheel.

And this is a full 20 minutes
before she crashed into the pie shop.

- She was in a hurry.
- Let's do this.

At last, a kindred spirit.

Just fueling up for battle.

Talk about peeling the onion.

I've never seen this level of security
on a personal computer.

Even for a techie, this Ensign Wilt
was pretty paranoid.

Or afraid of this guy.

Alfredo Montez,
he's a paroled drug trafficker,

heh, turned "legitimate"
computer consultant.

- What is this?
- His main client was the drug ring.

He created a secure online network
and messaging system for them.

Not so secure after all.

Not after Ensign Wilt cracked it.

Maybe he traced her back.

That many aliases,
he could be hiding in plain sight.

- I'll take the first three.
- I'll take the next three.

Count me in. Winner buys dinner.

TONY:
Well, hey, there, Alfredo.

Looks like you turned in
your prison jumpsuit, huh?

NCIS. Don't move.

Hey.

Go ahead.

Just kill me! Just get it over with.

And why would we do that?

Alfredo, we're NCIS.

So? Like feds can't be bought?

That's not really our style.

You're not gonna kill me?

Your boss says you were
off last night, Alfredo.

Or is it Alfonso?

Isn't that the name you go by now?

And you can't tell us
where you were?

- Alfredo.
- What? I was home.

Yeah, just now, where were you?

Thinking how relieved I was
that you guys are legit NCIS.

I thought Espada de Satanas
had sent you.

- You thought she was a hit man?
- Hey.

I've been going crazy,
hiding out, lying low,

ever since the man hacked the system
that I built for the Colombians.

- "The man"?
- I swore to them it was hack-proof.

Then one of your damn white hats
backdoors my server with a Trojan,

click-jacks my message chain,

and then I get owned
without even knowing it.

Yeah, I hate it when that happens.

So, you don't specifically know
who back-doored your server?

It was you.
The man, federales, pues.

And not the individual hacker?

Whoever it is, he's no script kiddie,
I can tell you that.

Last known cartel member,
but I'm not so sure that he's our killer.

[PHONE RINGING]

ABBY:
Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs.

GIBBS:
What do you got, Abs?

Ensign Wilt was not
in this car alone.

- How do you know that?
- It's hard to see,

but there is a glove print
on this handle

that has our girl's blood on it.

She ran a red light
with a knife to her throat.

- Any idea when he got in there?
- As far as we know,

the sadistic creep could have been
hiding back here the whole time,

till he decided to
finish her off and jump out.

What you're collecting
will tell us who it is?

Well, Major Mass Spec's
gonna tell us.

Meanwhile, I've got some neck tissue
in my fridge I need to get started on.

[PHONE RINGS]

Oh, yeah. Hits just keep on coming.
Yeah, McGee.

Hey, Dorney, you need a towel
or a fan over there?

You try navigating
this gauntlet, Timmy boy.

Feels like I just spent hours running

through catacombs
to kill a dragon priest,

only to step outside and have another
dragon land right on my head.

It's an obscure "Skyrim"
reference, boss.

- It actually makes perfect sense.
- Thank you, Elf Lord.

What did you find, Dragon Priest?

It may be nothing, but it seems
Ensign Wilt gained remote access

from this laptop to a home computer
in Annandale two nights ago.

I sent McGee the IP address.

I got a name here.
"Adem Faruk Korkmaz."

Listed as a businessman.
Appears to run it out of his home.

Our girl was poking around
his hard drive for a half an hour.

Yeah? Doing what?

Only his computer can tell us that.

[DOOR BELL RINGS]

Hi. We're wondering if there's
an Adem Korkmaz home?

Oh, sure.

Dad, it's for you!

- He'll be right down.
- Thanks.

ADEM: Who is it, Layna?
LAYNA: I don't know.

Mr. Korkmaz, NCIS.

We're here to ask you
some questions

regarding some information
linked to your home computer.

It is a... It is a business computer.
What about it?

More specifically,
it's about remote access to it

obtained by this woman,
Ensign Janine Wilt.

Never saw her before.

And no one has access
to my computer but me.

- It's for business only.
- Right, we got that.

But you think maybe it's possible
she could've gotten in

- without your knowledge?
- No, no, it's quite secure,

and I would know
if someone were tampering.

Well, you would know even better
if you'd let us take a quick look.

Do you have a warrant?

Mr. Korkmaz,
if it makes any difference,

we're pursuing a murder case.
Ensign Wilt's murder.

I'm sorry.

But I assure you
I don't know this woman,

and she certainly had
no access to my computer.

- Mr. Korkmaz--
- And if you don't have a warrant,

there is nothing else
to discuss here.

Nothing suspicious about that.

Let's get that warrant.

Okay, let's hear it. Who is this guy,
what's his business, what's he hiding?

Adem Faruk Korkmaz, 46.

Immigrated from Istanbul in '98.
Granted U.S. citizenship in '03.

Founded Korkmaz,
an import-export business in '05.

Importing, exporting,
shipping and receiving, huh?

Possible cartel connection?

Korkmaz Apparel Imports has been
cited twice since '05 for late taxes,

- but otherwise no criminal record.
- And no warrant.

Judge denied the warrant
on Korkmaz's computer.

He cited jurisdiction
from another agency.

- What other agency?
- Details are classified.

- Classified?
- Popular word on this case.

Classified, McGee? By who?

Take your pick of agencies.

- It could be FBI, DEA, Homeland--
- NSA.

I just got called from one of
their people asking us to back off.

They hold a FISA warrant to monitor
Korkmaz's dealings with Turkey.

- Who was it that called, director?
- LEON: Doesn't matter.

What matters is NSA Director Conte
is on a red-eye to Geneva.

I will call her in the morning.

So in the meantime, I suggest
that we all get some rest.

Forget resting.

Hey, long day. Did you eat yet?

What's NSA's interest
in Adem Korkmaz?

I know you know.

You know better than to
ask me about NSA affairs.

Yet here we are.

We used to talk
about this stuff all the time.

The operative words there, "used to."

Why are you guys monitoring him?

Like I know specifics.

You're the agency's lead attorney.

And how many
foreign-born businessmen

has NSA followed since 9/11?

Thousands. Millions.
And for a million and one reasons.

We don't care about millions.

We care about Korkmaz's computer

and its possible connection to
the murder of a young Navy officer.

And what happened there?

If NSA wasn't interfering,
I might know the answer to that.

We're not interfering.

Just maintaining jurisdiction on a case
that's been ours for months, years.

- Years?
- What, you think this is personal?

Like we decided to
block you guys for no reason?

Well, the call Vance just got
was pretty sudden.

Okay, look, no, stop.

You're asking me
to betray my agency.

No, I'm asking for your help.

In a way you never
would have dreamed of before.

Something's changed here, Ellie.

Something's different.
You're different.

Everything is different.

I shot a man in Kabul last week.

I killed him.

Has a way of changing a person.

Wait, what?

You-- You didn't tell me.

Why would I?

We don't tell each other
anything anymore.

How, Ellie?

What happened?

It was him or me.

And...

As long as I keep
reminding myself of that,

I can also keep
pretending that I'm fine.

You should have told me.

I could have helped.

Then help me now.

Let go of Korkmaz's computer.

We need it.

Please?

I can't. No. I'm sorry.

Look, Ellie, you chose to
leave NSA and take this job.

- No one pushed you.
- I know.

And it's changed things between us.

But we can work it out.

Right?

[McGEE LAUGHING]

- That's hilarious.
- Right?

Hey, who's the early bird now?

Did you take the carpool again?

That beltway can
be murder, you know.

Carpool lane was flying though,
wasn't it, McGee?

Oh, yeah, it was flying.

- Gentlemen, morning.
- Ah. Hey, Jake.

Sit.

I do hate to put you in this position,

especially with your wife
being an agent.

My wife's job's
beside the point, director,

and this position is my job.

- It's what I do.
- Then there's what we do.

The only thing I haven't
been letting you do, Gibbs,

is override NSA jurisdiction,

and we're under no legal
obligation to explain why.

You want my opinion?
Your job sucks.

- Gibbs--
GIBBS: The longer we go

before checking
Korkmaz's computer,

the better chance we have
a killer gets away.

Okay, then go ahead.

NSA surrenders access.

- Excuse me, did you just say...?
- I'll clear it upstairs.

Any repercussions, I'll take the hit.

Well, you heard the man, Gibbs.
Go get your warrant.

Actually, let me save you a step.

Is this what I think it is?

I have no idea.

This is like a nightmare.

You have no right to search my data.

What are you afraid we'll find?

I make my living on that machine.

If your people corrupt my files,
it could ruin my business.

You need to relax.

Our computer techs are very careful.
They're very, um, discreet.

Holy guacamole. Look at all
the business he does through Turkey.

Nothing through Colombia?

Not unless Istanbul
is code for Bogota.

Wait, where are you getting this?

- I don't see Korkmaz's computer.
- Don't need it.

We're using the SSD drive
Gibbs gave us.

And where did he get that?

We didn't ask,
Bishop, and neither should you.

Okay. So, what's it telling us?

Telling us that Korkmaz is
shipping and receiving

a whole lot of designer
clothes and accessories.

And he's making a boatload doing it,
but it all seems legitimate.

Dorney, need your help here.
I got folders that won't open.

I got it.

Interesting.

They're both protected
by the same firewalls

Ensign Wilt used on her laptop.

We'll consider that her signature.

Any way to see what's in them?

I've conquered this dungeon before,
but this time I have dragon arrows.

- "Skyrim."
DORNEGET: One folder's empty,

but it held an e-mail account
that's been deleted.

What's in the other one?

A link to a chat room, but no access.

All that's left is a list
of screen names.

Let's print them. Print everything.

Well, how much longer must I wait?

Until we know
what's on your computer.

- But you're free to go any time.
- No worries.

When we find something,
we'll come get you.

We found something.

Ooh.

Hey, have a seat.

Okay, you must believe me,

I had no idea they were knockoffs.

My distributor assured me that
these were genuine designer bags,

and when I figured out
that they were fakes,

the demand was too great to stop.

I could have lost my house.

This what NSA was monitoring?

NSA?

They had to be suspecting
a little bit more than this.

- That's not at all what I have here.
- What is it?

A deleted e-mail account
and a chat room that's been blocked.

You found this on my computer?

You hardly seem like
the chat room type.

I'm not. I've never seen this.

Any of those screen names
ring a bell?

I mean, of course not...

Just-- It makes no sense.

"Scout99"? That mean something?

Your daughter.

She was born in '99.

That Mockingbird book
is her favorite.

And she uses your computer?

No, she's forbidden.
She knows better--

Gorton Poly High?
That where she goes to school?

- She play basketball?
- How do you know this?

Wait, how...?

Our school tablet is
unbelievably restricted.

No private e-mail, no social media.

You snuck onto Dad's computer.

Tell them everything, Layna.
We'll discuss it later.

Secret e-mail account?
Chat rooms?

Just one chat room at first.

It was fun talking with other kids
around the country, the world even.

- "At first"?
- Until things got creepy.

I got talked into joining
this other chat room.

Only nobody there
was talking movies or music.

What were they talking about?

Bunch of haters
complaining about life.

Everybody and everything.

Asking if I was lonely,
and did I know my calling.

- What's your calling?
- I don't know.

They talked about that a lot.

About who I was,
and did my life have meaning.

So I quit. Both chat rooms.

That's when the weird messages
started coming.

- Messages from who?
- LAYNA: The crazy people.

Trying to shame me into
coming back, saying I needed them,

and that my life was
nothing without a purpose.

So you turned to Ensign Wilt.

She saw I was upset,

and she promised not to tell my dad.

She knew computers, said she could
help without even having to be there.

By accessing your dad's hard drive.

All I had to do was
give her a few passwords,

and she got in there
in the middle of the night.

Deleted the e-mail account, blocked
the chat room and everyone on it.

Do you know
any of them personally?

Just their screen names.

And only a few of these
are from that other chat room.

Which ones?

HaterExtreme39, JokerB...

And this one: Hellbent427.

He's the one who got me to join
and got real mad when I quit.

He took it personal.

Said I made him
look bad to the others.

- Hey, McGee, try Hellbent427.
- McGEE: On it.

Dorneget, Hellbent427. Find him.

Oh, very original.
"Hell" this, "hell" that.

- Where's Gibbs?
- He's on his way.

- The car give you anything?
- Yeah, a lot of lint and asphalt.

But Major Mass Spec made up for it

with tissue samples from the wound.

- Come on, Abs, keep talking.
- ABBY: Perfect timing, Gibbs.

Okay, so first of all,
I would bet that the weapon

was most certainly a bayonet.

It was dull, old, not quite an antique.

What? "Not quite"?

Well, these mold spores
found inside the wound,

they're dried up,
they're practically mummified.

I'm guessing maybe 50 years old.

That's a pretty specific guess.

Well, it's based on a specific fungus.

Aflatoxin B-1 is commonly found
in deep-water rice paddies,

and they're grown
in the Mekong Delta.

It's off a Vietnamese bayonet?

Yeah, it could be
one of ours used over there.

I found six significant collectors
of Vietnam War memorabilia

in the Metro area,
so all we have to do is visit them--

Excuse me, but is one of those
collectors named Simek?

Bradley Simek?

I have a Peter Simek in Alexandria.

Hellbent?

According to
the chat room support site,

Hellbent427 is Bradley Simek.

Brad, get off your computer
and come down, please!

You have company!

Don't tell me
he skipped school again.

Uh, no, nothing like that.
We just have a few questions for him.

- Is this Brad?
- Yeah, that's my little guy.

- Not so little anymore.
- This is quite the collection.

Oh, Peter thought so.
My late husband.

I'm not a fan, but Brad likes it.

Reminds him of his father.

He must be on those
damn headphones.

Why don't you just come on up?

Brad?

I've been calling you...

No Brad.

This looks like your rig at home.

Not really.
I certainly don't have a 3D printer.

That is our garage door.

Hey! NCIS, stop!

WOMAN:
That's my car!

He doesn't even have his license!

Oh, my God.

Okay, boys, lay it on me.

If one of these isn't the murder
weapon, the missing one probably is.

I'll look at them,
but I was talking about this baby.

Careful, this baby's heavy.

BOLOs out on the car
and Bradley Simek.

- No sightings yet.
- You ping his phone, McGee?

Well, I kept trying, boss,
but either his phone is turned off

or he's figured out a way
to block my signal.

He's savvy enough to know
we can use his phone to find him.

Savvy enough to figure out
Ensign Wilt blocked his chat room?

Well, if not him,
definitely the people running it.

Dark Web stuff.

Nothing you can Google,
and very advanced.

It's all here on the computer.

Files, programs, games,
3D-printer software.

He has a 3D printer?

- Mm. McGee was very jealous.
- I'm very jealous.

- I call dibs, Gibbs.
- Whoa, dibs, Abby?

I'm Cyber Ops now,
I already have dibs.

Now you both got dibs.
Double dibs, both of you.

Go together now.

Send everything you got
on this kid to Ducky for a profile.

Huh. You hear "dark Web"
or "deep Web," think it'd be scarier.

Jimmy, the deep Web's
not a bad place.

There's just bad apples,
like everywhere else.

And that's not even the deep Web.

That's just my screen saver.

This is Bradley Simek's desktop.

Okay, then.

And these are his chats and his
e-mails for you and Ducky to profile.

Oh, thanks for including me in there,

but Dr. Mallard's
really the profiler, I'm just...

You are the wind beneath his wings.

Now go, blow.

So this kid was friends
with Korkmaz's daughter?

Hardly friends, director.

They are in the same school
with hundreds of other teens,

but Layna barely knew him.

She had no idea
he was in the chat room.

The kid wanted to pull her
into what he was doing.

BISHOP:
But they never even spoke.

Apparently he rarely spoke
to anyone.

- Shy, loner, brooding.
- Practically a stereotype.

[PHONE RINGS]

- Yeah, Duck, I'll be right down.
- Okay.

- Jake, need something?
- Gibbs, director, are we good?

I hope the delay didn't hurt you any.

Oh, we'll find out.

All good, Malloy.

- Jake, I--
- I did my job.

No worries.

- Then I should get back to mine.
- Ellie.

I wish you'd told me.

We'll talk later.

What do we think, Duck?

We have a textbook
teenage misfit here, Jethro,

using his chat room to
express unsettling thoughts

that he would never
have the nerve to say in public.

He's hiding behind a screen name.

DUCKY: Well, with few friends
and no one to turn to,

he finds kinship with others
facing similar demons.

They're linked by a common cause.

Like a terrorist group.

DUCKY: Well, I wouldn't hesitate
to make that leap.

And SSBuilder48
is especially hostile.

"The world hates you, Hellbent427,

even more than you hate the world."

A steady diet of that's liable
to twist any kid's mind.

Anything in here about
where this kid might have gone?

Not in his chat room. Mr. Palmer?

Not in his e-mails, no.

From what I can tell,
when he's not at school,

his whole world is about
his room and his computer.

- And his father.
- His father? Father's dead.

He died three years ago
of a heart attack,

but Brad still e-mails him
every few weeks.

None of them
being returned, obviously.

Having trouble coping
with a significant loss

at a delicate age
makes him an easy mark.

Why the ensign?

DUCKY: Well, they were trying to
recruit young Layna Korkmaz.

Ensign Wilt got in the way.

And what's more to the point,

she could trace them back
to their true identities.

So, Hellbent handled it?

To prove himself.

There's a whole lot of hate
being thrown around on here.

- Who are these people?
- I don't know.

I'm hating this
encrypted folder right now.

A dictionary attack on this
password would take like years.

- Did you try Hellbent427?
- His screen name?

Well, that was easy.

Some of the best hackers I know
use the most obvious passwords.

Oh, Major Mass Spec needs me.

What's the magic machine
chewing on now?

Whoa.

Gunpowder. In minute traces.

- From where?
- Brad's computer tower.

I swabbed the power button
just in case.

What do you make of this?

Looks like a blueprint.

Encoded for a 3D printer.

McGee said the kid had one, right?

- It's some kind of mechanism.
- Wait a minute, is that...?

Where's Gibbs?

- Got a hit on the BOLO, Gibbs.
- Somewhere in McLean.

We're trying to get an exact location.

The helo's up,
Virginia State Police are on it.

- Gibbs, he's got a bomb.
- Where, Abs?

I don't know, but the kid
has gunpowder on his computer,

and a blueprint
for a plastic detonator.

Gibbs, he printed a detonator.

Okay, we got the car
parked near the corner

of Waverly and Birch Hill in McLean.

- No sign of Simek.
- Wait, I got his phone.

- Must've turned it back on.
- Get us a location.

- McGEE: He's on the move.
- Everyone, let's go.

WOMAN:
Brad, are you there?

Bradley, talk to me, baby.

I know you're there.
I hear you breathing.

Answer me.

Please, just come home, Brad.

I'm so worried, baby--

- Sit-rep?
- AGENT [ON PHONE]: Ready to roll.

Bomb squad's on standby,
waiting for a location.

Location keeps changing.
The kid's cell signal's moving fast.

Too fast to be on foot.

Ditched his car for someone else's
and heading across town?

That road's a bus line, 6 Eastbound.

I need a bus number. Tell the driver
to pull over and stay put.

Open the side door.

Go on, get off.

Everybody get off.

- No! Nobody move!
- Don't!

[GIRL SCREAMS]

Don't.

Let them go, Brad.

They haven't done anything to you.

Stay back.

Go on, get out of here.

Go, go, go.

Easy, easy, easy.

Come on.

You made your point, Brad.

Hellbent.

- The coach?
- No, no.

That wasn't-- That wasn't me.

It was my knife, but I didn't do it.

Well, don't do this.

Your dad wouldn't want you
to do this.

Your mom, either. She's outside.

Come on.

Come on.

Let's go talk to your mom.
Follow me out.

Follow me. Come on.

It's okay.

Let's go talk to her. Follow me.

Come on, Brad.

That's it.

Doing good.

Come on, almost there.

That's good, Brad. Drop the bag.

Just put it down.

Put it down.

That's it.

[SIREN CHIRPS]

Look, Brad-- Look at me.

You're a good kid.

No, I'm not.

No!

[PEOPLE SCREAMING]