The Pied Piper
Like everyone else, he loved the fairytales that were told when he was young. This day started so normal and there was no way he ever imagined it would end up like it did...
A/N A one-shot, inspired by a short trip to the city of Hamelin in Germany, the very same place the Pied Piper apparently lived, centuries ago.
Disclaimer: the characters of NCIS Los Angeles belong to CBS. The only thing that's all mine is the idea for this storyline. Another character apparently belongs to the Grimm brothers. They can't possibly blame me for using, since they don't read stories anymore...
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Eric Beale was proud of what he'd accomplished so far in his life. He looked back at a happy childhood, especially when comparing it to some of the sad stories of his coworkers.
Growing up mostly in Los Angeles, he discovered that it was still the city where he really felt at home. And he knew, because he did have some experience of living in another city. After all, he did move to Cambridge where he finished the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.
He was recruited soon after by the agency and yes, he was happy with the job he was offered. Yep, he was glad there was always a way he could work on making the world a better place, a safer place. But most of all, Eric Beale was glad his job was behind the scenes… He never was a man of courage. No hero, unless when he had a keyboard within the reach of his hands and a screen which told him whether the team he was assigned to could solve a case with his intel.
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Flashback || 1988
"Eric Bartholomew, you'd better pay attention. If éver there are strangers addressing you when you're on your way to school, ignore them. This is a dangerous world we live in. You remember what happened with those poor kids in Hamelin when they followed the Pied Piper?"
"But Mutti, this is the City of Angels. Not Hamelin!" the young boy answered. He did not understand how his mother managed to mix up a story she was told when she was young, with the life he lead right now.
"And there are no rats in our neighborhood, richtig?" the young boy added, his greenish grey eyes widening in awe when he thought of what happened way, way back in the past when even his Grossmutter had not even been born yet.
His mother shook her head. Their only son was a very clever boy, if only he used his imagination instead of taking every remark, everything, so very literally. He loved watching TV and, much to his parents' despair, instead of playing with other kids, he preferred to contact them by telephone.
In fact, she had no idea how the boy's future would look. Only months ago, the couple moved to Los Angeles where they found a perfect family-home in the Woodland Hills. And despite the fact their son would be able to go to school by bicycle to the St. Bernardine of Siena School – like most of the kids in the neighborhood, Margot and Eric Bartholomew Beale II (senior), had made another decision.
And so, little Eric was picked up by a private chauffeur, so the small but very clever boy could attend lessons at Haynes Charter for Enriched studies at Lockhurst Avenue.
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NCIS Office of Special Projects || Los Angeles || May 8, 2015
At 9.15 AM the first whistle sounded. Hetty had ordered Eric to gather the others of the team at the Ops center. Today, he'd taken his Bawu flute - a birthday present Hetty had brought for him from one of her unexpected and unaccounted for trips to China. He used only three of the holes, which made a fun and clear noise anyway.
When all four of the team looked up, he summoned them up. "New case on deck, guys. And girl," he added when he addressed Kensi.
Once the sliding doors closed, it was, of course, Callen who spoke the question "What've we got?"
Eric and Nell already were aware of the case, since they gathered intel from LAPD and Homeland security. With that, they had been the ones to inform Hetty, who now, on her turn, sent a small nod to the information analyst, going with the "Miss Jones?"
"Right," Nell started. "This morning, the private security agents of the Consulate General of Ethiopia discovered a small, home-made bomb on the inside of the gates. They immediately called the bomb squad of course. It was a small bomb, but it would have proved to be very, very lethal if it had exploded. Fact is, there is supposed to be an international conference planned from tomorrow on."
Hetty took over the briefing. "Our Secretary of Navy will be one of the speakers. Therefore, I want you to assess whether or not he is being threatened in the end and, if so, who might have planned this terrorist attack. Of course, you will all understand this case should be handled, how shall I say, delicately."
She then turned around, left the ops and headed downstairs again.
The team paused for a moment, trying to figure out which moves to make next. As usual, it was Callen who made the decision. "Kensi, Deeks, the two of you could pay a visit to the Consulate. Sam, you and I will try and contact the secretary of the Secretary of Navy."
It made Deeks chuckle "If that won't work, the secretary may have a secretary as well."
"Which is, partner, why Sam and Callen are the ones who should stick to that assignment. Perhaps you would even start interviewing the receptionist and several different secretaries, which eventually would lead to an interview next week or so." Kensi shook her long, dark curly hair and left ops rather self-confident, knowing Deeks would follow. Which, as ever, was true.
"Shotgun," he shouted, hurrying downstairs behind his partner.
Eric rolled his eyes. "Really…" he mumbled. He then nodded to both senior agents. "We'll see what we can find out from our place, guys. If there's anything Nell and I find out, we'll let you know!"
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NCIS Office of Special Projects || Los Angeles || May 8, 2015, 2 PM
"I never – ever expected you to be this quick," Sam mentioned on their return to the Ops center, addressing the young tech.
Eric reddened slightly but it was Nell who responded. "It was easy-peasy for Eric. Or well, don't tell, he hacked a private camera which belongs to—"
"Fed-Ex promised to not file charges against you, Mr. Beale." Stealthy as ever, Hetty had entered the Ops center. Her face was serious this time.
"Oh, heck," Deeks interrupted. "Even if they did, I think I might be able to help you with some defense, Eric. And in case the jury thinks you are guilty… I might come around to visit you and share some fantastic surfing adventures. Promise!"
This time, the slightest smile appeared on Hetty's face. "Right, Mr. Beale. I suggest you leave Ops right now."
His eyes widened. "But—but Hetty…" he tried.
The unrelenting stare of the operations manager disappeared quickly. "Let's call it a day, ladies and gentlemen. We've all had a massive amount of work lately and although I must admit the administrative tasks—" and she glanced at the agent in charge, "—administration, Mr. Callen! It's called paperwork, remember?" She continued "As I mentioned, there is always administration to take care of. However, on a day like today, I suggest we all should enjoy the Friday noon-sun. So, shoo-shoo. Off you go, all of you."
The team looked at the tiny older woman, not sure what to believe.
"Well? If you plan to stay instead of following orders, you may just as well look into your inboxes!"
The chattering then started. Movie nights, dinner with friends, family meetings, all kind of plans were discussed as all six of them hurried down the stairs, grabbed their bags and left the building.
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Will Rogers Beach, Los Angeles || May 8, 2015, 5.05 PM
Temperature was fine, but the waves were crappy so far. Eric really regretted that. He'd expected a long afternoon and early evening surfing, but not today, so he just decided to pack up. Maybe if he hurried, he might have dinner at his parents' place.
He put his board in the back of the dark green Mazda Tribute, quickly changed his surf short for a casual feet seven pants, took a polo and a hoodie and decided he was dressed well enough for his parents. He then took the items he put in the trousers he'd been wearing at work – phone, ID, access card for the office – just in case – and the flute. It would not be the first time he forgot to take his personal belongings from his clothes before they were taken away for laundry after all…
Life was good, he thought. The only thing he needed to concentrate on right now was changing his identity. If only he could act as Callen for once… He had told his parents about his job for a security company, which in fact was a fact. But he'd never be able to tell them the truth, no way…
In a slow pace, he drove his car over the 27. The 21 miles road might be the short cut, but usually took longer. However, on a Friday afternoon, the alternative via Santa Monica and the 405 would take ages.
It was near Topanga State Park when Eric Beale's definition of never wanting to be a field agent, changed forever.
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Topanga State Park, Los Angeles || May 8, 2015, 5.30 PM
The small school bus drove slow, very slow. It wasn't its only problem. If you'd ask him, the driver might just as well be drunk since the bus swayed on the road in a way it shouldn't.
Still, on a straight part of the road, Eric stepped on the gas and overtook the bus. He glanced just slightly to the bus driver and what he saw, caught his breath.
Next to the driver stood a man with a gun, pointed at the scared man behind the wheel. And on the next seat sat the teacher. Next to her, Eric noticed another armed man. Paralyzed by fear, clearly scared to what might happen to her ánd the children who were travelling with them.
He'd seen faces like that too many times in his career, all on screen and never in a situation like this. He agreed, this was a scary situation - and all too real.
Eric counted the seats and estimated there were about 25 children in the bus. He accelerated and tried to act as if he never saw anything happening.
He looked in the rear view mirror 'Hamlin Charter' – the bus sign told. He also noticed the school bus was now losing speed, until it took one of the sandy roads up to one of the parking areas of Topanga Park.
For a quiet minute, he wondered what his next move should be. He then parked his car, took his phone and called 911, explaining what he had seen. "I think they'd been on a day trip," he finished.
-"Well, sir, thank you very much for this clear report of all you've witnessed. I'm Ivy and I am going to send in help ASAP," the young voice on the other part of the line concluded.
"Who are you going to send and what will be their ETA?" Eric asked.
-"Right. Sir, that is something I cannot tell you," Ivy responded.
"LAPD? A Swat team? A hostage negotiator?" he wanted to know. "And when will they be here?"
-"I cannot tell you, I just said. Sir, I—"
Eric noticed he was losing his temper. "All I'm asking of you is to tell me when you think someone will be here to assist. It's not that difficult. I bet you already pushed the buttons, and someone is listening with you. All I want to know is how long those kids have to wait and for whom." He then paused a second and added "I work for a federal agency, Ivy. I know how things work."
-"Since we don't know anything about what's going on but your report, we hope to know who those people are and what they want." There was another voice coming through his phone. A male this time and the man did not take the time to introduce himself.
"So basically you're saying you prefer to wait?!" Eric realized he sounded mad. And it was true, to him this sounded incredible. "But there are kids inside. Innocent children—"
-"Sir, these are things we should not discuss like this. We have a job to do."
"I understand. Good luck with your job," Eric snarled. There was not a single word he did not understand, and yet, he didn't understand at all why things were going this way.
For some minutes, he wondered what he could do right now. All he could think of was the look on the teacher's face and how he could help.
Again, he took his phone and pressed the best pre-dialed number he could think of.
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Eric Beale got out of his car, opened the door to the backseats and went through the messy contents of it. He remembered the long, marine colored jogging trousers and his crisp white tennis shoes. From a distance, they'd look more like an agent's outfit and so he redressed. A real NCIS cap made the transformation complete.
And Eric was even more thrilled to find a black megaphone he'd stuffed in the car ages ago. In a flash he remembered the rowing session as a part of a teambuilding day Hetty had organized. The team rowed through the canals of Marina Del Rey to Mother's Beach. The megaphone had been used by the operations manager and was left to take back to the office, yet never made it. Luckily.
One swift glance at his watch and he guessed it would take less than 10 minutes before the others would arrive. He then breathed in deep. Very deep. And started walking.
The three minutes' walk from his car to the school bus had given him enough time to figure out whose of the team agents he wanted to keep in the back of his head when going in.
Eric Beale always thought his character was most similar to Marty Deeks', however, he could not feel how Deeks would handle this.
Callen was too reckless and too self-assured, a role that would never fit Eric. And Kensi, well, she was too similar to Callen. Too bad-ass. Not like him.
So, he tried to identify with Sam. Always alert, but with a natural air of certainty that he was on the right side. Calm as well.
Yes. Sam it would be.
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The words came out very convincing. "Special agent coming your way," he said, talking through the megaphone. "I am unarmed and just want to talk."
"Stay away!" the alarming message came after a second. A man, about his length and with thick, curly black hair, stood in the open door of the bus.
"Listen, I just want talk, okay? My co-workers aren't planning any unexpected moves as long as you stay put. So, why don't you let the children go?"
"We won't." The man stated.
He tried again, still on a safe distance. "Listen. Tell us what you want and why. We'll see what we can do, if you let the kids go."
"You won't be interested. It's something between Bernie and us. Call it unsettled business."
From inside the bus, Eric heard the teacher plea. "Just let them go. They're innocent kids. Think of—" There was the sound of slapping, and a loud scream. Some of the kids started crying.
Eric was afraid he might endanger the situation, something he definitely should avoid. Eric pressed the tape-mode of his phone unseen, so he'd have evidence when needed.
"If it's Bernie you need to talk to, alright. But I'm sure you don't want to harm any of the kids. Now, I am going to step to the back door, okay, and open it, slowly. If you want to check first - alright with me. We've got snipers around, so avoid any unexpected movements. If there are any statements you feel you need to make, make them beforehand and now." In a way, words just tumbled out of his mouth automatically and it sounded more convincing than he ever thought he'd manage.
"You called it unsettled business with the busdriver."
"Bernie got released before we were. Promised to keep some business going and we'd share what was left of the deal that got us in State Prison, once we were getting out. But hey, he seems to have forgotten."
"Not true, Karim." Bernie somehow piped up. "Got me a decent job through probation, bro. Can't afford to lose it."
"Humbug Bernie. You disappear every time we show up. Now, this is the best place to settle our discussion, y'think?"
Deep down, Eric sighed. If LAPD would come round with sirens and all armed, things might get out of hand, even now. He needed to hurry, or else his bluffing might get obvious.
"Here's what we do. You and Bernie just talk. Meanwhile, I'm going to open this door and you let the children go with me, right?"
There it was. More cars stopping and all Eric heard was Sam's Challenger. His own team. Then, he slowly took the only device that came to his mind, he opened the door and started to use it.
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Los Angeles || Gladstones Restaurant, May 8, 2015, 6.05 PM
This was IT.
The woman with the reddish long hair and big blue eyes looked very disappointed and even sad when she followed the man and the couple she had entered the restaurant with, in a hurry.
Joelle Taylor had left enough money to pay the restaurant's check, took her two bags, put on her flappy sun hat and entered the passenger seat of her own blue cabrio.
She simply decided there and then that she couldn't live a life like this. A simple dinner with Callen, Sam and Michelle turned out to be a disaster when the phones of Callen and Sam sent an alarming signal. It made both men switch into agent's mode immediately. And Michelle… She did the same.
This was só not her life. All Joelle wanted was a peaceful family life, having fun with the kids at school.
Yet here she was.
"Please Callen, slow down a little."
"Eric must be in danger, sending the 'agent in distress' code. We can't slow down, but have to hurry." Callen pressed some buttons on his phone and watched the navigation screen
"But…"
"No buts, Jo." He then spoke to another co-worker. "Kens, got a location. Topanga. We'll be there in two." He listened to the short response. "Gear up first," he said.
"Is this going to be dangerous?" Joelle swallowed as she asked.
Callen glanced at her, then nodded. "Probably. You stay in the car, okay? I got this."
"But—I don't want it. Not now. Not with you, here." She nearly whined.
There was no time for discussions as Callen quickly left the main road, the Challenger of Sam following close. They stopped behind an old, too large, green Mazda.
"You stay, okay?" Callen repeated. "It'll be alright." He got out and had his gun in his right hand before Joelle noticed.
"No-one around," Michelle already concluded. "There was a bus though, we just passed by."
The three of them then focused on an unusual sound. A flute, which sung nearly hypnotically.
Callen signed to the other agents and as swift and quiet as possible, they hurried to where the music came from.
The technical analyst slowly walked backwards, facing 23 children who followed, in their direction.
Eric couldn't remember being this glad to see the senior agent ever before. He stopped using his flute for a second, addressed the others by a simple "two hostages left, two armed guys," and continued.
Only a few feet further, he started talking again. This time, he addressed the children. "Hamlin School. I bet you all know why your school is called like that. And I bet, your parents always tell you never to go with strangers. Strangers who might lead you to places unknown. Once, many, many years ago, in a German village called Hamelin. Maybe they called it Hamlin, who knows. In this village, there were so many rats that the government decided—"
A female voice joined him, and a broad and grateful smile came his way. "The government hired a piper. He was, in fact, a rat-catcher hired to lure rats away with his magic pipe. When the citizens refused to pay for this service, he came back."
Eric continued. "This pied-piper used his power, turning it into something bad. This time, he used the flute on all the children around, leading them away as he had the rats."
Joelle, who had heard all the children's soft chatter and the flute, was attracted to what was going on. These were things she could control, just like the man opposite of her. Someone very attractive. Someone who definitely was no dangerous agent, but a man with a soft side and certainly a lot of imagination.
"Eric in here," she told the kids, "Eric managed to use his magic to get you away from some rats. That is how they," and she motioned to Sam and Callen who now pushed the two captors away from the bus, in which Michelle comforted the teacher. "We call those two captors rats. They should be put away from our town, am I right?"
A young boy giggled. "And now, where are you luring us to?"
"Back to Hamlin, your school, where your parents are waiting." Eric said. "We'll have to wait for another driver though."
Joelle shook her head. "I can drive you all. Care to join?"
Nervously, Eric pushed his glasses up just a little. "But…"
"No buts, Eric. Callen can drive your car back to wherever you wanted it."
'Magic. Pure magic,' Eric thought. He should tell Hetty about this Bawu-flute. To him, it worked like magic. And Callen? Well… He should be able to deal with it.
Thank you for reading. Your reviews are very welcome!