NCIS

So, when you say you're sure, how sure are you?

Sure enough that if you don't ask her out by tomorrow,

I'm gonna spike your coffee with testosterone, man.

Yeah, but what if you're wrong?

- JB, trust me, the girl's into you. - Oh hey, careful.

Relax, this guy's a Marine.

At least he was before he deployed himself through his windshield.

So, what do I say to her?

I don't know. What do I look like, the Cyrano de what's-his-face guy?

Go with your gut. You got the release?

No, didn't you get it?

You know what? On second thought, maybe you better not go with your gut.

So where should I take her?

I'm gonna start charging you for advice, you know?

Oh, there she is.

- Do you smell that? - Gas.

Oh, no. Get out. Get out, get out, get out. Go, go, go.

What are you doing?

I'm in the middle of a very serious negotiation.

On McGee's computer?

I know where you're going with this, and the answer is yes.

And what's the question?

Have I no shame?

Who are you IM'ing?

Agent Larsen?

And she thinks you're McGee?

And this is because she warned you that if you spoke to her again,

she would have you brought up on sexual-harassment charges?

- That was a misunderstanding. - So now you're correcting the record.

I'm just trying to let her know that I…

McGee feels that she may have misjudged me,

and that as a close, personal friend, I can…

"Vouch for Tony's strength of character."

Yeah.

I don't have much time. She's being reassigned in 2 days.

Yeah, well, you'll be reassigned if Gibbs catches you.

Doing what?

We were looking at McGee's bookmarks, trying to get an idea for a…

Birthday present.

- Morning. - Happy birthday, Probie.

- It's a bagel. - It's not my birthday.

Grab your gear. Medical transport just exploded.

- Any day now, Probie. - Yep, sorry.

I just got the strangest IM.

- She asked you out? You? - Yeah.

Trust me, I'm just as surprised as you are.

Trust me, you're not.

Blast radius indicates a low-yield detonation.

Did she say why?

It said that she liked the loyalty I showed my coworkers.

Pyrolysis on the pavement suggests an O2 was the primary accelerant.

Even if they were total scum. No idea what she was referring to.

I'll tell you though, I did not realize she was paying so much attention to me.

Do you wanna tell the Probie or should I?

How about neither? Why don't you just focus on the work?

Yeah, I've noticed you've morphed into quite the forensic expert.

I'm Israeli. This isn't my first exploding ambulance.

We left the van unattended for 4, maybe 5 minutes, tops.

- As Patto hit the brakes… - The whole thing exploded into flames.

- I think someone's trying to kill us. - Would you please stop that, JB?

- It was… it was an accident. - Who's trying to kill you?

Who knows? There's a lot of weirdos out there.

Tell me about it.

- Talk to me, Duck. - Lance Corporal William Danforth Jr.

Survived IEDs in Iraq, RPGs in Afghanistan.

Unfortunately, the local Odocoileus virginianus

was too much to bear.

- That's a white-tailed deer. - Yeah, I know.

Are you saying Bambi killed this Marine, Ducky?

No, but swerving at 60 miles an hour into a tree to avoid Bambi did.

And his girlfriend is still in a coma at the hospital.

Danforth was DOA when they brought him in last night.

This morning, he was on his way to Bethesda for a routine autopsy

when fate intervened.

Fate?

Well, the scorching of the body is consistent with a gasoline fire

accelerated by on board oxygen.

This could have been an accident, Jethro.

- Lucky for those two to get out. - Yeah, lucky in a way I don't like.

Good morning, good morning

Morning.

Good…

Good morning to you, you, you and you

Good…

- What's that? - Looks like an iPod.

iPod Photo.

Anyone who might have possibly had a motive to try to kill them…

Either has an alibi or is out of town. Way ahead of you.

You could've told me and saved me the trouble.

Just say you need the practice and leave it at that.

What kind of music does the McGee listen to?

Barry Manilow, Julie Andrews, Zamfir?

- Let's go to photos. - What are you doing?

Well, McGee had a date with Agent Larsen last night.

Didn't return any of my e-mails about a SitRep.

But maybe he took some photos.

- Those are his private photos. - Well, he left them on his public desk.

Where’s the clickety?

- Who is this? - Well, it's definitely not Agent Larsen.

- Gotta be his sister. - Why?

Are you kidding? This girl's way out of McGeek's league.

I don't think the drivers were the target, Tony.

Yeah.

- I actually think it was the body. - Why blow up a dead guy?

- Put it back up there. - Put what back?

McGee's got good taste. Going for coffee.

- What was that for? - Alerting DiNozzo.

The fuel line to the gas tank cap was ruptured here.

Torn by a loose belt on the differential housing.

- Loosened how? - Unknown.

The van also had a short in the electrical system,

coincidentally in the taillight right by our ruptured fuel line.

You know how I feel about coincidences, Abs.

Equatorial pygmies know how you feel about coincidences, Gibbs.

So, one would wonder, accident or not an accident?

That is the question.

Our first player, an innocent differential-housing bolt

that is rubbing and straining on the molecular bonds

of our vulcanized fuel line

until, after eons, our hapless hose finally ruptures.

The gas moves quickly into the floorboard of the van

when it's in motion. The driver smells it.

What could it be? He hits the brakes,

and the short in the taillight ignites the pooling gas vapors.

The flames quickly superheat the on board O2,

and when the canisters can no longer contain the growing pressure:

Not an accident.

Not unless the Angel of Death is going through a Rube Goldberg stage.

Boss, we found remnants

of what may have been the trigger on an O2 canister.

May have been, McGee?

There were traces of mercury fulminate,

sodium azide and tetryl on the material.

- Blasting cap. - O2 would've never blown on its own.

Fire wasn't hot enough.

The perp rigged the transport to make it look like an accident.

He might've gotten away with it if he'd detonated it sooner.

Fire dispersed pieces of the trigger.

- He waited for the drivers to get out. - So, he's not a murderer.

Well, at least, he wasn't trying to kill the ambulance drivers.

Trace it.

Gibbs, this is a garden-variety, laminated-paper substrate.

It's used as a cheap shielding in thousands of electronic devices.

Yeah, so?

So maybe I should get back to work.

Did we get a positive match on our Marine's DNA?

You know, I've been a little busy here, Gibbs, with all the rubbing

and the looking and the analyzing and the…

I should mention that Ducky's taking care of it.

I haven't seen a body this badly burned since the Bertram Mills Circus.

Specimen jar.

- Mr. Palmer. - Sorry, Doctor.

It's just, I'm having a problem with this smell today.

Really? I think he smells like my Mother's fried chicken.

- Yeah, that would be the problem. - Oh, I see.

Well, the vegetarian lifestyle

has been medically proven to be the healthiest of choices.

Perhaps it's time you made the jump.

- You wanted to see me, Duck? - Well, actually, yes Jethro.

Then why do you look surprised to see me?

Because I haven't told you that I wanted to see you.

Yes, well

our latest house guest has thrown us quite the little mystery.

Define mystery.

Yeah well, the young lad's death certificate

lists blunt-force, thoracic trauma as the cause of death,

typical in motor-vehicle accidents.

But I've only partially been able to verify that,

since, as you can see, the postmortem damage is extensive.

- Ducky? - Yes?

- Mystery. - Of course.

Well, you know me, Jethro,

I attempted to make an identification myself.

The blast destroyed his jaw and shattered his teeth.

It would take an inordinate amount of time

to get an identification from dental records.

Also, the fire so degraded his DNA, that,

you know, I spent the better part of yesterday scouring his body.

- Mystery. - Almost there.

By a stroke of luck, I found a piece of tissue

viable enough to send to have run against Danforth's DNA

at the Armed Forces Repository.

This isn't William Danforth Jr.

Then who is this?

That, my dear Jethro, is the mystery.

Lance Corporal Danforth's pro and cons were 50-50.

A real squirreled-away Marine. So, what'd you find, Tony?

Tony.

Zamfir, he's a master of the pan flute.

- It's helping me think. - What are you thinking?

I'm thinking that there are a lot of reasons

for postmortem mutilation you're overlooking,

besides hiding a suspicious cause of death.

Such as?

Such as enraged acts of violence, sadistic curiosity.

- Hiding the real identity of the victim. - That was the next one on my list.

- Is his identity in question? - Yeah, it is now.

Tony, get me a copy of…

The names of the cops who processed Danforth's report. Already on its way.

- Ziva, take me… - Have a chat with the Doctor