NCIS

Uhp! Okay!

Okay, okay!

Hold your fire!

Hold your fire.

Hey. Ned.

Go reset that mannequin.

Why? They're just gonna fall again.

And then you'll pick it up again.

That's how this works.

Okay, why not keep 'em on the ground, then, Dad?

They're still targets, whether they're standing or not.

For the hundredth time, boy,

you don't shoot someone that's laying down.

It's against nature.

Fine. Okay.

Whatever.

Okay.

Today.

"Against nature."

Yeah, your face is against nature.

This place is a damn junkyard.

I am so out of here, I swear.

How many mannequins

are trying to get out of this place?

What the hell?

Dad. Dad! Come here, quick!

It is so nice not to have to eat

on the run for a change.

Yeah, rare.

If I got to eat another sandwich in a car...

Or over a dead body.

What about you over there-- another bento box?

Oh, you bento betcha.

Got some hummus, chicken,

a little tabbouleh.

Oh, yeah, and look, you got each item

in its own very little, uh, compartment there.

Okay. Go ahead and say it.

I'm not saying a word.

Uh, I'll say it.

Even her lunch

likes its personal space.

And there it is.

There goes Kasie the gym rat.

Uh, with the lab report you requested,

and I will be back in about an hour.

So, uh, how many weeks in a row is that, now?

Mm, about nine. But, uh, you know,

...who's counting?

Hey, I could use a training partner.

If you're ready, let me know.

Ready for you, Nick?

Never. No.

Plus, my gym is women's only,

so unless you want to work out in drag...

Don't dare me. I'll do it, man.

You keep doing what you're doing, girl.

Looks good on you.

Feels good. Thanks.

You enjoy your bento any which way you like.

Leave her lunch alone, boys.

For the record, Nick, I would pay a lot

to see you work out in drag.

Mm. Says more about you than it does me.

Good for Kasie, huh?

I mean, talk about an extra spring in her step.

Seriously. Good for her.

And good for us. Enjoying our lunch together.

Too bad we'll have to take it to go.

Somehow I knew that was coming.

- Where to? - Outdoor shooting range,

Falls Church-- got a dead Navy reservist.

Well, "bento to go" has a good ring to it.

You heard Kasie.

Lay off my lunch.

Our victim is Lieutenant Victor Bateson.

Former active duty, now a reservist.

Should I bother asking cause of death, Jimmy?

Obvious call would be a gunshot wound,

but I can't even begin to count all of them.

Be easier to tell you where he wasn't shot.

Hey, guys.

Victor Bateson. Ring any bells?

Not a one. And no idea

how in the hell he got in there, either.

- What about the car? - What about it?

How long has it been here?

Uh, this one, about a week.

So, for a whole week

you've been using this nice old car

as target practice?

It's a old junker.

But it wasn't always, now, was it?

You got any security cameras, Mr. Gorton?

Nope. Pretty old-school here.

Yeah, I had a feeling.

But I can guarantee that that guy was

not in there when we closed up last night.

And what time was that?

Right at dark. Around 7:00?

Opened up again at first light.

All right, so we're looking

at about a 12-hour window.

Hey, guys, for what it's worth,

I'm smelling alcohol here.

I don't drink a whole lot, but, uh, maybe tequila?

So perhaps the lieutenant drunkenly wandered

out here in the middle of the night,

climbed in the back seat to sleep it off?

Until the firing started in the morning? I-I...

Anything's possible.

How many shooters have you had here this morning?

Uh, 20, maybe 30 so far.

We keep sign-in books at the front desk.

Got every name and weapon listed.

We're gonna need those.

What, I have to go get 'em?

Hell with it.

- Okay, fine. - No, no, no, you stay here.

- I'll go, okay? - No, I'm going. Look, no, I'm going.

I'm going. Dad... Yup, you're going.

How close are we, Jimmy?

I'm ready.

But... body's so large

and, frankly, perforated,

i-it might be easier to-to cut out the back seat,

use as a gurney of sorts.

What? Is that really necessary?

I mean, why don't we take the whole car?

With the body and whatever evidence is in there.

Can't argue with that.

All right, I'll call in a tow.

Hey, Agent Parker? Yeah, here's our sign-in books.

Not even a floppy disk?

It's too high-tech for my old man.

Well,

we can forget the drunken wandering part.

Post-mortem lividity and the lack

of blood in the back seat says that...

Lieutenant here was killed and then dumped here.

Ah, so we've got ourselves an old-school coverup attempt.

Isolating the bullet that killed him--

that's gonna be like finding a needle in a haystack.

A grain of sand at the beach.

A black cat in a coal mine.

Yeah, yeah, these are all good.

Whatever metaphor we go with,

I imagine that's precisely what the killer was counting on.

Lieutenant Victor Bateson,

35 years old, former active duty,

joined the Reserves two years ago.

No next of kin listed.

Okay, thank you.

And that was Bateson's C.O.

She said he was a model officer

- and something of a gentle giant. - Any employment records?

Apparently, Bateson hadn't nailed down a permanent career

since retirement, so between Reserve duties

he worked a bunch of part-time jobs.

Such as?

The last the C.O. spoke to him

was two days ago, as he headed to work

at a Lionheart Bar and Grill in Old Town.

Okay, great. Why don't you and Torres take the Lionheart

and we'll, uh, visit the C.O.

Actually, I was thinking that maybe

I can help Kasie search the car.

Since it's still in the evidence garage.

Sure.

McGee?

Oh, no need.

I can see if I can get the Lionheart to come to us.

Too soon for a progress report?

Never. This is, uh, eight bullets down.

142 to go.

Really? 150 bullets?

I can confirm that one of these slugs,

uh, nicked the lieutenant's pulmonary artery,

causing him to bleed out in just a matter of minutes.

And when I say "one of these slugs,"

I mean all of those.

His chest cavity alone is so chock-full of lead,

it's gonna be quite a while before we figure out

which bullet actually killed him.

Well, compare them all against the guns

listed in Gorton's books

and process of elimination...

Should give us our killer bullet.

Hopefully lead us to whoever fired it, huh?

Oh, sorry. Was that out loud?

Kind of. What was that?

Inappropriate.

We do that - around here sometimes. - It's kind of

a nervous tick-- autopsies sometimes flash me back

to that Operation game I had as a kid. You know, with the

- annoying buzzer? - Yeah, yeah, that's still around.

It's actually Victoria's favorite.

What, your daughter?

Yeah, she's also discovered, uh, Mouse Trap,

- Remember that one? - Oh, yeah, hell yeah.