♪
(knocking)
You looking for Jerry?
Yeah. Registered letter for him.
Mailman brought it late yesterday afternoon.
I signed for it.
Well, give it to me, Courtney. I'll put it in his apartment.
Thanks.
I don't want to be a pain,
but I've still got ants in my kitchen.
Exterminator's coming this afternoon.
They'll be done before you get back from class, I promise.
Thanks. That's what I'm here for.
(click, mechanical whirring)
(click)
(screams)
♪ NCIS 11x03 ♪ Under the Radar Original air date on October 8, 2013
== sync, corrected by elderman == @elder_man
♪
(phones ringing)
(elevator bell dings)
Hey, Murray.
What are you doing at Ziva's desk?
Officially not her desk anymore, Agent DiNozzo.
Is Gibbs going to replace her?
I don't know.
It's only been a week.
He hasn't really discussed it with me.
repeat, Murray:
What are you doing? S.O.P.
Just... scrubbing her hard drive.
This kind of looks like you. It is.
How close were you two? Give me that.
(elevator bell dings)
Morning, Agent McGee.
Hey, Tim.
What's the matter?
Can't find my badge and I.D. Ooh.
Lost your creds-- that's serious. Yeah, I know, Tony.
I couldn't find them at home; I was hoping I'd left them here.
Ooh, you're so screwed.
Thank God I didn't lose my building access card.
Lost creds initiate an automatic I.G. 2B investigation.
It's almost as serious as losing your weapon.
You didn't lose that, too, did you?
You keep talking and I'll use it.
Hey, you've got to chill out, all right?
No need to report the loss
if they're just gonna show up, okay?
You just need to think. Visualize.
When was the last time you saw them?
Tony, I've tried that.
Explosion. Blew up a J.G.'s apartment.
TONY: Casualties?
Yeah, building manager.
You waiting for a special invitation, McGee?
No, boss.
(siren wailing, indistinct chatter)
Whoa, I didn't get a good look at that, sir.
Mm-hmm.
Thank you, Special Agent Gibbs.
The baby-faced newbie cop is actually checking I.D.'s.
How unusual...
and unfortunate for you.
As you can see,
Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo.
Thank you, sir.
Thank you.
(speaking unintelligibly)
(continues speaking unintelligibly)
Go ahead.
(muffled): Thank you.
Ah, well done.
DUCKY: All right, on three.
One, two...
(phone ringing)
That's me. That's me.
Uh, I know how you feel
about taking personal calls in the field, Doctor,
but this is Breena.
We're supposed to meet
with the adoption lawyer today, so...
Answer it, Mr. Palmer.
Yeah? Yeah.
Hey, Breena.
Adoption lawyer? They're really gonna do it?
Most certainly, and... Breena's gonna take a while.
Would you mind giving me a hand?
Oh. Well...
it's not really my... Well...
Sure.
One, two, three. (grunts)
(exhales) Yeah, this is gonna be interesting.
Poor man took the brunt of the explosion.
Shaped charge.
Meant to kill whoever opened the door.
COURTNEY: I was knocking at the door.
I-I was trying to give him his mail,
and... I just knew the lieutenant as a neighbor.
He was a nice guy, but quiet.
We really didn't talk that much about anything important.
What can you tell me about the registered letter?
Huh?
The letter you signed for.
I'm sorry, but my ears are still ringing.
Get yourself checked out at the hospital.
We'll contact you later, okay?
Spoke with Lieutenant Keith's commander at the Pentagon.
Keith is on two weeks' leave visiting his mother
in Fort Wayne, Indiana.
He's away, and somebody booby-traps his apartment, hmm?
TONY: Lieutenant Junior Grade
Terence Keith, 26, grew up in Fort Wayne, Indiana.
Graduated from Montana State,
went to Officers' Candidate School in Newport, Rhode Island.
I like Rhode Island.
He wanted to fly, but washed out
of preliminary flight training at Whiting Field in Florida.
Was assigned to his present duty at the Pentagon last year.
He washed out? What was his problem?
Checking on it. Boss, something's wrong.
That was Keith's mother in Fort Wayne.
He's not there and she isn't expecting him.
She talk to him? Not in weeks.
Anything?
BOLO's out on Lieutenant Keith's gray '09 pickup.
No action on his credit card
in the last two days, and his cell phone is turned off.
(phone ringing)
(ringing continues)
NCIS.
She doesn't work here anymore.
I'm sorry, I don't have a forwarding number.
Sure thing.
Ziva's dental hygienist-- she had an appointment tomorrow.
They were calling to confirm.
It's hard to believe she's not coming back.
She wanted to move on.
So let's move on.
WOMAN: Hey!
Probie!
ra.
Am I surprised to see you here.
(chuckles) Yeah.
I have managed to avoid
coming to headquarters for 20 years,
and now they call me in.
I got a meeting with Vance.
I'm already half an hour late.
Is he on this floor? No. One flight up.
Okay. All right.
It's good to see you, Vera.
Good to see you. Boys.
You're looking, uh, good there, Leroy.
(laughs)
We're gonna catch up later.
(sighs)
(quietly): Yeah.
Who is that, boss?
Uh, Special Agent Vera Strickland.
"Probie"?
Mike Franks' last partner.
McGee, come on, you're with me.
Pentagon. We're gonna go talk to Lieutenant Keith's C.O.
Uh, boss, boss, Abby needs my help.
Actually, she said she needed my help with the bomb residue.
That okay?
Yeah. Yeah, it's okay.
Did you just lie to the all-knowing Gibbs?
It was stupid, wasn't it? Yes.
I panicked.
They're not gonna let me into the Pentagon without my creds.
I'm just gonna have to notify the I.G. and report the loss.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Don't make that phone call.
They're gonna show up.
Did you do something with them, Tony?
(chuckles): No.
No. No.
You probably put them somewhere stupid.
Where were you last night?
I've been over it a thousand times.
Did you have a booty call
with your special friend, D.O.D. Delilah?
What is this?
Hmm. It's hardened.
(sniffs) Whew! Stinks.
What are you mumbling about, Mr. Palmer?
Something's melted under the fabric. Here, see it?
Well, take it up to Abby; she'll identify it.
(ringtone imitates old-fashioned car honking)
Ah. Breena texting me.
We had to reschedule
our appointment with the adoption lawyer.
His only opening is in... 20 minutes. Great.
I'll have to tell her I can't make it.
I'll take that up. You go meet with Breena.
Oh... I appreciate that so much, Dr. Mallard.
She's been really nervous about the whole adoption process.
I'm not nervous; she's nervous.
Tell her to relax and think about the end result.
Mr. Palmer,
I... envy your chance to have a family.
Go.
(sighs)
(hard rock music blaring)
Abby.
Hang on, this is my favorite part. Hold on.
♪
(guitar holding chord)
(music ends)
Ah. How good were the Sterile Puppets last night?
Yeah, that sound system at RFK was pretty killer.
Oh, and Lynch-- what a great drummer, huh?
Please thank him for the tickets.
It was so fun being in the pit. Did you see Twitter?
The Puppets have been trending since the concert.
That's nice.
What's wrong?
I lost my badge and I.D.
Oh, oh...
Ouch.
Yeah. Might have been during the concert,
all that bumping and shoving.
Oh, God, I hope not.
What did Gibbs say?
I haven't told him.
Abby, what if I was pickpocketed?
What's this?
It's Ziva's scarf.
Oh, yeah.
I remember this.
She wore it her first day at NCIS.
Yeah, and then after we became friends,
I complimented her on it, and she just gave it to me.
And I wore it today, and it just made me feel better.
So maybe that'll work for you.
Mm.
Have you talked to her?
Texted her. I haven't heard back.
Oh, the good doctor.
What dost thou bringeth me?
The vestments of the newly departed, milady.
The heat of the explosion fused something onto his shirt.
It looks like... plastic?
Ooh. Maybe a credit card? I'll check.
Any luck with the bomb? ABBY: I was able to determine
that the explosive was C-4.
And based on the size of the blast,
I'd think it was probably ten to 12 ounces.
That would explain the extensive trauma
to the building manager's body.
Any luck locating the lieutenant, Agent McGee?
Unfortunately, no.
I don't believe
I've ever seen you wearing a scarf before.
MAN: I'm confused. Keith isn't in Fort Wayne?
His mother hasn't seen or talked to him
in weeks-- she isn't expecting him.
I don't know what to tell you, Agent Gibbs.
Why would he lie?
I don't know.
Anything at work that could put him in danger?
No. His duties are primarily administrative.
He doesn't have top-secret clearance.
I can't believe someone would try to kill him.
He's quiet, keeps to himself.
What can you tell me about
Lieutenant Keith's personal life? Not much.
Matter of fact, I don't think I've ever seen him outside the office.
Is he good at his job? Adequate.
He doesn't have his heart in it.
Once Keith washed out of flight school,
I think he was just riding his time out.
Offered him a job that would put him on a career track,
but he wasn't interested.
He give a reason? No.
He's a strange duck.
How do you mean?
I just... can't get a handle on the guy.
VERA: So this is MTAC.
Mm-hmm.
Vera, I've seen your face on that screen
more times than I can remember.
Wow, I didn't realize it was so big.
Must've shown every wrinkle on my mug.
You got to give a girl a break. (laughs)
McGee?
What are you doing?
Uh...
I can't find my car key.
And, uh, I thought I dropped it in here.
McGee, I'd like to introduce you to Special Agent Vera Strickland.
Oh, well, we sort of already met.
He's one of Gibbs' kids, right?
VANCE: Right. Vera's retiring at the end of the month.
She's gonna be here with us at headquarters
for the last couple of weeks as she processes out.
Where alls I have to do is keep my nose clean,
stay out of trouble,
and then I ride off into the sunset on my hog.
VANCE: She's not kidding.
Vera's got a Harley.
V-twin, four-stroke, Electra Glide classic.
(both chuckle)
Tony, Tony, Tony, Tony, Tony. I know who built the bomb.
Who?
Well, I want to tell Gibbs myself. Where is he?
He went to the Pentagon.
Abbs?
(line ringing) You can tell me; we are a team.
Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs! I got a fingerprint
and DNA off the bomb's trigger mechanism.
And I ran it through a database of one,
and I got a name. Abbs?
Who?
Lieutenant Junior Grade Terence Keith.
(phone beeps)
He blew up his own apartment.
Oh, hi.
Why would Keith booby-trap his own apartment?
Looks like Lieutenant Keith called the same number
several times over the past few days.
McGEE: Yep.
Belongs to a Lieutenant Junior Grade Dana Robbins,
an aviator.
Assigned to the carrier Benjamin Franklin.
It's home-ported in Norfolk.
She only answered the first call.
Talked for less than three minutes.
She's not aboard the ship; I left a message.
I've been talking to people in Fort Wayne about Keith.
Not exactly an ideal childhood.
Father left when he was six.
He was an alcoholic.
They haven't had much contact since.
Keith was a nerd in high school.
Science geek.
Captain Laramie hinted he was a little strange.
Yeah. High school advisor said he was a loner, bullied.
Nose got broken his senior year.
Lot of wedgies. Probably why he went
out of state to college, to get away.
Doesn't sound like Officer Candidate material.
VERA: Found the break room.
The coffee sucks.
Director Vance said there was an empty desk around here
where I could park my ass.
This will do.
No. Not that one.
Okay.
What's the problem, boys?
Vera, come on.
Got a desk for you.
All right.
Oh... well...
well, it's a little cramped.
GIBBS: No. It's cozy. Yeah, well,
what the hell, it's just till the end of the month.
(loudly): And you're not even gonna know I'm here.
(phone ringing)
(Tony groans)
(whispers): No, boss.
Back to work.
ABBY: Gibbs, can you come to the lab?
Yeah, Abbs. I'm on my way down.
(elevator bell dings)
Through the loop.
Round.
Back through the loop.
Are you knitting?
I'm trying.
They're gonna be booties for Jimmy and Breena's baby.
That's months away, Abbs.
Well, it's gonna take me that long.
This can't be the reason you brought me down here.
We got lucky.
Major Mass Spec determined
the specific signature on the C-4.
It's a unique combination of a plasticizer
and dinitrobutane.
It's manufactured by a company in Des Moines, Iowa.
Why are we lucky? I'm so glad you asked.
They only have one distributor in the Mid-Atlantic states:
Pyrotechnic Engineering.
And they are just across the river in Anacostia.
You get anything from Keith's laptop?
Oh. Have no fear.
I will access this hard drive.
Boss, it's unbelievable-- she and Mike Franks
were involved in the capture of Noriega in Panama?
McGEE: Yeah, he sought asylum at the Vatican Embassy.
It was Vera's idea to blast him out
with Van Halen music. GIBBS: Yeah, yeah, yeah.
It's ancient history, boys; I've heard it a thousand times.
What about our current case?
Work, work, work. Gibbs used to be fun.
You connect with the pilot
Keith was trying to call?
Lieutenant Robbins is on her way here.
His college transcripts just came in.
It's interesting-- his major was
electronic engineering, which would give him
the technical know-how to make a bomb.
Yeah, Abby I.D.'d the explosive.
It was distributed
by Pyrotechnic Engineering in Anacostia.
You two, go, check it out.
Boss, I got a problem.
I lost my creds.
I haven't seen them since last night.
You're just telling me now?
You report this to our I.G.?
I wanted to tell you first.
I'll notify them.
Special Agent Strickland.
Yeah? Gear up.
What?
Vance said you're available if needed.
VERA: Uh, uh-uh, no way.
No, no, no I'm just here to... Vera...
to process out. Vera.
That's-- No... Go with DiNozzo.
(quietly): DiNozzo?
Oh, I've heard stories about this guy.
His car blew up, he almost died from the plague.
And didn't someone shoot at you a few months ago?
He missed. (groans)
I only have two weeks left, Gibbs.
I shouldn't even be in the same room
as this moving target. Go.
(sighs)
This is your fault, McGee.
You're gonna pay.
TONY: So, tell me, Vera, how do you like working with a partner?
You want to "good cop/bad cop"?
You, Inspector Clouseau, are an accident waiting to happen.
And you are definitely not my partner.
So, how did you work with Mike Franks, then?
We had a very special relationship.
Really? How so?
Yeah, I'm not going into it, DiNozzo.
Okay? This is your show; I'm here for the ride.
Speaking of ride, I don't like the way you drive.
Mr. Frazier? Yeah?
Special Agent DiNozzo.
Special Agent Strickland.
What can I do for you? Have you seen this guy?
Yeah.
Yeah. He was here.
Couple of weeks ago.
Wanted to buy some C-4.
He's in the Navy?
Yeah. Yeah. Uh, did you
sell him the plastic? No, no.
You have to be licensed to buy from us.
Did... The lieutenant tell you what he wanted to do with it?
He said he just needed a pound or two
to blast some tree stumps.
So he left empty-handed? Yeah.
But I gave him the name
of a demolitions contractor who might take a small job.
The powder monkey got a name?
Yeah, yeah. Larry Purcell.
Works out of his house in Elkridge.
You got any questions, DiNozzo?
Moi?
Don't even know why I'm here.
Thanks.
(door opens)
GIBBS: Lieutenant Robbins.
Thanks for coming in. Have a seat.
You want some coffee?
Sure, thank you.
I'll try to make this as quick as possible.
I know you're deploying in the morning.
You must be excited. I am.
I've been training for this a long time.
F-18? Yes, sir.
I get paid to fly a Super Hornet-- doesn't get any better than that.
That's great.
Special Agent McGee didn't tell me what this is about.
Lieutenant J.G. Terence Keith.
Terry?
Yeah. You talk to him recently?
Couple days ago.
Is something wrong?
We can't find him.
He in some kind of trouble?
How do you know him?
Um, met him in Pensacola for A.P.I.
We moved on together to Whiting Field
for preliminary flight training.
You two close?
No. Just... classmates.
Why'd he wash out?
He was actually a good pilot.
The pressure got to him.
Pressure, huh?
Terry probably needed to be
on some kind of antianxiety medication.
But you can't do that and fly.
He started acting out.
There a confrontation?
No.
In the last few weeks of flight training,
Terry knew he wasn't gonna make the cut.
He became sullen and withdrawn.
And angry with me.
I don't think he could accept the fact that a woman
was going to move on to strike jet training and he wasn't.
The call the other day-- what'd he want?
Couldn't figure it out. It was strange.
He was... strange.
We weren't on the best of terms when he left Whiting Field,
and... now he wants to see me before I deploy.
What'd you tell him?
That I was busy.
I needed to see friends and family before I shipped out.
Why don't you handle this one, DiNozzo.
(chuckles) Okay.
Hey there.
You Larry Purcell?
Who's asking?
NCIS Special Agent DiNozzo,
and company.
You a Navy cop? Yeah.
You know the lieutenant?
No. You didn't look at the picture, Larry.
Why don't you try looking at the picture.
Yeah, maybe he was here a couple weeks ago.
You help him remove a tree stump?
What? No.
I'm betting you sold him some C-4.
I don't know. Maybe.
Yeah. (chuckles)
I have to check my records. What'd you say his name was?
I didn't. Try Terence Keith.
I'll be back.
Thanks, Larry.
(quietly): Squirrely dude.
Hmm.
(sighs)
VERA: Nice.
(engine starts)
TONY: Vera! (screams)
(groaning)
(dog barking in distance)
(panting)
I had a good job with a contractor up north,
but I got laid off.
I couldn't find anything steady, so I started doing odd jobs.
(chuckles) I needed the money, okay?
So you sold Lieutenant Keith the C-4.
He never told me his name,
and I didn't know he was in the Navy.
GIBBS: What'd you think he was gonna do with explosives?
He said he was gonna do
some demo work on a friend's farm.
And you believed him?
I believed the cash he gave me.
I had no idea he was gonna rig his apartment and kill somebody.
(door opens)
(grunts)
A little help would be nice, McGee.
Sorry.
Is it broken?
A severe ankle sprain.
You're lucky.
Lucky?
PURCELL: What happens now?
TONY: You're gonna be held in a detention facility
and booked for accessory to murder,
illegal sale of explosives,
and assaulting two federal officers.
Two federal officers? Yeah.
Me and Agent Strickland. That old broad is an agent?
I just need one minute with that clown.
PURCELL: Can I make some kind of a deal?
Unless you can tell us where Keith is,
you've got nothing to offer.
Do I get a break if I sign a confession?
Write it all down.
TONY: And please be specific.
We estimate he used ten to 12 ounces of C-4.
How much did you sell him?
Ounces?
I sold him 200 pounds.
That's almost as much C-4 as was used to take out
the Cole in Yemen.
Gibbs, what are we dealing with?
Keith has something big planned.
Agreed, but why did he rig his own apartment?
Whoever comes to investigate
after the fact-- take him out, Leon.
Wouldn't be the first time.
Keith didn't know that the building manager
was gonna open that door prematurely.
Gibbs, what-what's his ultimate target?
I don't know.
I got to notify Homeland, FBI and the ATF.
ABBY: So, Gibbs, your golden gut was right.
I finally got into Keith's hard drive.
For the last year, he's been buying
prescription antidepressants online
from a Canadian pharmacy using an assumed name.
Self-medicating. And also,
this, um, plastic blob that was melted
on the apartment manager's shirt,
it is not a credit card.
It is actually an FAA private pilot's license.
Newly issued and sent by registered mail
to Lieutenant Keith two days ago.
The letter the manager was gonna put in Keith's apartment.
No good deed goes unpunished.
Lieutenant Keith
took his final check ride for a civilian pilot's license
two weeks ago at a small airport in rural Virginia,
Lafayette Field.
His instructor was Kip Logan.
DiNozzo.
On my way, boss. Want to take a ride, Vera?
Bite me.
Keith was the best student I ever had.
Didn't have to teach him anything.
The Navy did that.
Qualifying him was a no-brainer.
Once he passed the written exam and logged the minimum hours,
I issued him a temporary certificate
and filed the paperwork with the FAA.
Seen him recently? Yesterday afternoon.
Checked him out in a STOL he wanted to rent.
STOL? What's that? S-T-O-L.
Short Take-Off and Landing.
Two-seater. Lot of fun to fly.
You can land them anywhere-- pasture, field.
It's great for cross-country trips.
Did he rent it? Yeah. He booked it for two days.
He say where he was going?
Didn't tell me.
♪
WOMAN: We pulled the radar and security footage
from Lafayette Field for yesterday afternoon.
The plane Lieutenant Keith rented took off at 1421.
It circled the field,
then headed in a southwesterly direction.
Three minutes later, it dropped below radar coverage.
Did it ever pop up on the radar again?
No. A STOL has the capability to fly very low and very slow.
It'd be like finding a needle in a haystack.
So potentially,
we have a bomb aboard an airplane
on a suicide mission with an unknown target.
Alert all agents and analysts:
no one leaves until we find Lieutenant Keith.
Thank you, sweetheart.
You have just made my day.
I'm out of here!
Oh, that was H.R.,
and because of my line-of-duty injury,
I don't have to come in anymore.
And I have you to thank for that, DiNozzo.
Well, it was my pleasure.
Oh! Here let me help you with...
No, don't. Back. Back.
Don't you come near me.
Just a... Back. I said back.
(sighs) You catch that S.O.B.
Before he hurts
anybody else, probie.
We'll see you around, Vera.
You know, I'm gonna have a lot of time on my hands.
Maybe I'll drop by,
see what you're working on in the basement.
Front door
still unlocked?
Just put it around... No. I said no.
Don't touch me. Back off!
GIBBS: Come on, come on, come on.
Back to work.
Keith took off 48 hours ago.
Where is he?
Call you next week? Yes, boss.
GIBBS: ...stationed at Lafayette Field in case he returns there.
TONY: He's not going back there, trust me.
Is this what you lost, McGee?
Where'd you find them, Director?
They were found at RFK Stadium.
Police turned them in to the I.G.'s office.
I don't know what to say.
Gibbs, you know about this?
Yeah. I'll deal with it later.
Been a little busy around here, Leon.
Anything on Lieutenant Keith?
No, nothing on his location.
Ducky profiled him; we have a theory.
All right, let's go.
We're briefing the others in five minutes.
Duck. Yeah, I need you in MTAC.
Told you you'd find 'em.
Yeah, in the Inspector General's office.
Ooh. I'm completely screwed.
Well.
Air traffic controllers are on full alert.
We haven't had any sightings.
What's the plane's range?
BERGIN: Just under 450 nautical miles.
So if Keith is planning to go any further,
he'll have to stop to refuel.
All general aviation airports east of the Mississippi
have been notified.
And what do we know about Lieutenant Keith?
We've profiled him. Dr. Mallard?
Lieutenant Keith was bullied as a youth
and looked to naval aviation to turn his life around.
Unfortunately, he washed out.
That made him depressed.
And rather than seeking professional help,
he self-medicated.
We believe that he quit, cold-turkey,
to pass his FAA medical exam, and to get his
civilian pilot's license.
An abrupt cessation of medication
of that type could most definitely lead
to episodes of delusion and paranoia.
That altered state,
combined with low self-esteem and rejection--
well, most likely he's seeking revenge.
Revenge against whom?
We're aware of two possibilities:
the high school, where he was bullied,
or Whiting Field, where he washed out.
And both have been alerted.
We can't limit ourselves to those two targets.
Could be anywhere.
So, how'd it go with the adoption lawyer?
JIMMY: Uh, okay.
He had a problem with one of the items on our résumé.
What?
Well, Breena's a mortician; I'm a medical examiner--
we both work with dead people-- and, uh,
the lawyer seemed to think that that might be kind of a turn-off
for a young woman putting her baby up for adoption.
But, uh, you know, I think it'll be fine.
I'm feeling really optimistic.
You should be, because as soon as they get to know you two,
they're gonna love you.
Thank you for saying that.
(elevator bell dings)
Hey, McGee.
ABBY: Hey, McGee. Well, I got my creds back.
Great! Where were they?
Someone found them at RFK.
I.G. investigation to follow.
I could end up getting time on the beach.
Or worse.
McGee, oh, I'm so, so, so sorry.
(groans) I feel totally responsible.
I begged you to go to that concert with me.
Abby, it's not your fault. Oh, God.
Now it's just ruined what would have gone down in history
as the most epic night ever.
Have you seen Twitter?
The Sterile Puppets have now gone viral.
Oh, yeah. I heard they passed one million followers.
What?
How good a friend of yours is the drummer?
Why?
Think he'd do you a favor?
Will you slow down, McGee?
I do not understand a word you are saying.
In English.
There's a way of finding the plane
if it's flying under the radar.
Social networking, Gibbs. Twitter.
Abby's got a friend who's in a band.
And right now, every single one
of their tweets is being followed
by hundreds of thousands of fans.
We post a picture of Keith's plane
and ask the group's fans to be on the lookout.
And if anyone sees it,
then we tell them to tweet the location
with the hashtag "FindThisPlane."
What's a hashtag?
McGEE: Thousands of Sterile Puppets fans
will be on the lookout for this plane.
Hashtag "this could work," boss.
Go.
♪
Well, we got our first hit.
It's from Hopewell, Virginia.
VANCE: Admiral, sending you the coordinates now.
I'll alert NORAD.
Here we go.
ATC's tried to make contact. Keith isn't answering.
Might have the radios turned off.
Transponders, too. We're not getting any radar hits.
McGEE: Another tweet.
BERGIN: You know, the last time we heard
from Keith, it was on the UNICOM frequency
for Lafayette Field.
Can we transmit on that frequency?
It'll take a minute.
We've scrambled two Hornets from Oceana to make an intercept.
Armed?
Yes, but we can't bring the plane down
over a populated area.
We're getting a lot of tweets-- he's flying a zigzag course.
McGEE: We got another.
He's skirting around towns.
We've got a video attached.
That's brilliant.
Whose idea was it to track the plane on Twitter?
I know where he's headed.
The Benjamin Franklin just left; it's still in the bay.
I'm monitoring the fighter pilots' transmissions.
They're closing in.
Put it on a speaker.
PILOT: Target has crossed the shoreline
and is less than one minute from the Benjamin Franklin.
We're circling back. We're circling back.
Several of Keith's aviation classmates are on board
for their first deployment. Lieutenant Robbins-- the woman
that Keith's been trying to get in contact with all week.
GIBBS: The ultimate blow to his ego.
She gets to fly attack fighters, and he doesn't.
Have NORAD/NORTHCOM alert the ship.
VANCE: 5,000 personnel, over 80 aircraft
and a $6 billion ship.
That's a hell of a statement.
He's never gonna get near it;
it's protected by state-of-the-art
air-and-surface defense systems.
He's on a suicide mission.
Admiral, does the Benjamin Franklin
have permission to shoot down a civilian target?
The ship has the right of self-defense.
MAN (over speakers): This is the T.A.O. (alarm blaring)
Now set General Quarters. Now set General Quarters.
Low, slow flyer incoming starboard side.
All right, boss, you got the UNICOM frequency.
Lieutenant Keith.
This is NCIS Special Agent Gibbs.
The Benjamin Franklin has locked on to you
with their weapons.
Lieutenant?
It doesn't have to end this way.
You don't understand.
I need to do this.
No, you don't.
To hurt Dana Robbins and others on board
doesn't solve a damn thing.
You'll never reach the ship.
Turn around. We'll help you.
Missile systems are ready to fire.
PILOT: Air-to-air on final approach. Target's painted.
Weapons hot.
GIBBS: Lieutenant Keith, you will be fired upon.
PILOT: Civilian plane is executing a left-hand turn.
Confirming, civilian pilot is turning away from carrier.
GIBBS: Lieutenant Keith,
ATC will give you vectors for a safe landing.
It's too late.
(beep)
PILOT: Civilian aircraft has exploded.
Repeat, civilian aircraft has exploded.
Get some sleep, guys.
Thanks, boss.
Hey, Eugene. Need something?
I'm here for Special Agent McGee.
You know why I'm here.
I'm heading up the I.G. investigation.
Lost credentials are a very serious offense,
especially when they are not immediately reported.
(whispers): Hey. We've had a long couple of days, you know?
I need you to come with me.
VANCE: Hang on.
Agent McGee isn't going anywhere.
Director? Agent McGee
and the rest of his team's presence
has just been requested at the White House.
His clever strategy
just saved countless lives
and a multibillion-dollar weapons system.
Yeah, we'll get back to you on that, Eugene.
== sync, corrected by elderman == @elder_man