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Author's Note: I will do my best to post one chapter a day until the story is complete, per my usual MO. As always, let me know what you like, where I tripped up and your thoughts as the story progresses. Like everyone on this site, I really love reviews and appreciate when someone takes the time to post one. Having said that, let us begin. It was a dark and stormy night… (Only kidding. That comes later).
This was the part of her job Hetty Lange hated with a passion and what sometimes drove her to contemplate getting out of the business for good. Solemnly staring at the big screen in the Ops Center, Hetty sighed inwardly, as she made the tough decision in her mind, but when she spoke, her voice was solid and authoritative. "Call them Ms. Jones. Send them to the scene, but don't tell them the agent involved."
The young, perky, redhead raised her petite hand to press the button on her headset then hesitated, not completing the action. Not one to often question a direct order, Nell felt compelled in this instance. "Do you think that is wise, Hetty?"
Eric, the other technological wizard, who was sitting at his keyboard, rotated his chair to observe the two women. He too felt conflicted by his boss' direction though he hadn't had enough courage to question Hetty. However, he was very eager to hear the answer, now that Nell had put the question on the table.
Setting her mouth in a firm, straight, line, Hetty stared at the big screen as if by sheer willpower she could change the image in front of her to a happier scenario. "Only time will tell. Please carry out my order."
Nell's finger wavered for a fraction of a second again before she tapped her headset and dialed Callen's cell. It wasn't that she was questioning Hetty, as much as she was wondering how Callen would react. The senior agent had major issues when he was not fully read-in on a mission. Things usually got ugly between the blond agent and whomever he felt had deliberately withheld the data. Callen wouldn't blame her, Nell knew, since she was only obeying orders, but he wasn't going to be as forgiving with Hetty.
Callen was riding shotgun, with Sam, in the sleek, black, Challenger, on their way into work. His phone buzzed and after a quick glance at the screen, he pushed the green icon. "What's up Nell?" he asked his voice casual and relaxed.
Nell's voice, on the other hand, was professional and terse as she relayed Hetty's instructions to the team lead. "We have a hostage situation. You and Sam are to head there directly. I sent the address to your phones."
One didn't have to be a great detective to pick up the negative vibe in Nell's voice. Frowning slightly, Callen checked the address on his phone's screen before reading it aloud to Sam who was driving.
"That's a residential area. Mostly older apartment buildings," Sam mused as he quickly reversed the Challenger's direction, heading for the new location Callen had provided to him.
Switching his phone to speaker so Sam could listen as he drove, Callen asked the analyst for more detail. "What else can you tell us Nell?"
Back in Ops, Nell glanced nervously at Hetty whose gaze remained firmly fixed on the large screen, offering no support on how the analyst should handle the request for more data. "Not much Callen." Nell hedged. "The agent is being held at gunpoint on the fire-escape, 8th floor. One assailant as near as we can tell."
In his rush to get to the scene, Sam cornered the Challenger tightly and Callen nearly dropped the phone as he was involuntarily shifted in his seat by the car's swaying motion. "Who's the agent?"
Nell paused again before answering the question, a gesture not lost on Callen. "We have limited camera coverage."
A sideways glance at his partner confirmed Sam was thinking the same thing as Callen; Nell was lying. Convinced the folks back in Ops knew exactly who the agent was and for some reason weren't sharing, made the muscle in Callen's lower jaw twitch; these types of Ops never turned out good.
"Kensi and Deeks are on their way but you guys will arrive on the scene first. Be careful," and with that Nell abruptly hung up.
Callen was surprised to see 'call ended' flash on his screen and it left an incredibly uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. "What the hell is going on Sam? This can't be good."
"No, it can't," Sam agreed, as annoyed as his partner but a bit more willing to trust there was a good reason for Nell withholding information.
Sam was breaking all land speed records and they were now only three minutes out from the address. "I hate this feeling," Callen muttered darkly, staring out the window as the streets flashed by.
Sam maneuvered the car around a slower vehicle before accelerating the big, shiny, muscle car again. "What feeling?"
Callen drummed his fingers on his leg. "Not knowing what is going on. Feeling like information is being deliberately withheld from us."
Covering the rising nervousness he was also feeling, Sam gave a little laugh at his partner's statement. "You're joking right? Your whole life is about missing information to include your first name."
A small smile twitched in the corners of Callen's mouth as he recognized Sam's joke for what it was; stress relief. "Yeah, well it doesn't mean I have to like it. See this is why I don't share with you. You're not supportive."
Further conversation was put on hold as they approached the address and the two agents quickly scanned the locale. It was an older section of town, though not a bad one. The address Nell provided was a twelve-story apartment building, at least forty years old but neat in appearance. There was already a LAPD police unit out front with one officer in the car and one standing next to it staring upwards at the side of the building.
The apartment complex had an old-style, black, metal fire-escape running along the outside of its' red, brick, facade and that was where the officer's attention was focused. Sam pulled over to the curb and the two men quickly exited the Challenger gazing upwards at the scene unfolding on the 8th floor landing of the fire-escape. They could see a woman, who must be the agent, being held at gun point on the fire-escape landing. The assailant had a hoodie covering their head; at this distance it was impossible to id either person on the platform.
Callen flashed his badge at the police officer standing alongside the cruiser. "NCIS. What can you tell us?"
"Not much more than you can see yourself. We just arrived on the scene." The middle-aged, dark-haired, LAPD officer was joined by his lanky, red-headed partner who had finished radioing the situation to their dispatch.
"Back up and a hostage negotiation team are on its way," the second officer informed them. "You guys got here fast. How did... "The officer's question was cut short as a gun shot rang out and the victim on the fire-escape stumbled back against the railing. Before the echo of the shot had died out, Callen and Sam had drawn their guns and were sprinting towards the building's entrance.
They swiftly moved thru the lobby, past the elevator, heading for the stairs. "You go to the apartment. I'll go two floors up. High ground. On the fire-escape," Callen barked as the two fit agents rapidly bound up the stairs. A curt nod from Sam showed he understood the plan. When they hit the 8th floor, Sam peeled off thru the door that led out to the hallway while Callen continued upwards on the well-worn, wooden staircase.
When they had been outside, Sam had looked at the structural design of the building so he had a pretty good idea which apartment he needed to enter to reach the fire escape where the agent was being held hostage. Stopping in front of what he judged was the correct door; he reached out his hand and gave the knob a covert turn to see if it was locked. It turned slightly so he knew it wasn't secured, but Sam didn't attempt to enter yet; he had wait for Callen to get into position so they could make a coordinated, two front attack. This strategy would give them the best chance of saving the agent being held at gun point.
Breathing heavily, Callen burst out of the stairwell on the 10th floor, quickly scanning the hallway. He was relieved to find it empty; one less complication to deal. Like Sam, he had a good idea which apartment he needed to enter and he moved down the hallway over the well-worn carpet to its location.
Testing the door, he found it locked and he made a rapid decision between pick the lock or break the door; kind of like the a roadblock on the show 'The Amazing Race' that he seen once or twice while hanging out with Sam's family. Jasmine, Sam's daughter, thought that he and her Dad should apply to be contestants on the show; she was sure they'd win. Callen didn't disagree with her assessment, though the producers of the show might not hundred percent approve of the methods he and Sam would use to win. It would, however, make for exciting TV.
Since speed was of the essence, Callen went with break the door. Contrary to popular belief, kicking down a door was not as easy as the all cop shows on TV made it out to be, unless, maybe, you were built like Sam. Callen took aim at the lock, firing off two rapid shots before he proceeded to use his foot to force open the door.
Quickly bringing his gun to bear, he entered the living room which contained an eclectic conglomeration of furniture. However, other than the mismatched pieces, the room was empty of people. After he cleared the living room, then the rest of the apartment, he headed back into the main room.
Rapidly moving to the window that led to the fire-escape, Callen shoved his gun into his back holster. Scanning the window frame, he saw it was not locked, so he reached out and attempted to push up on the frame; the window didn't budge an inch. Gritting his teeth, he tried again, throwing all his weight into his arms and shoulders but the window stayed firmly wedge shut.
He took a small step back and surveyed the whole window frame to see what he missed. His eye was drawn to some splintering on the edges of the window's painted, wooden frame and upon closer examination, he spotted the nail heads. Damn, some idiot had nailed the window shut.
Cursing, he drew his hand inside the protection of his leather coat sleeve and smashed the glass with his forearm. It made more noise than he would have liked but it was too late to worry about that now. He cleared the jagged edges of glass as best as he could before drawing his weapon and stepping thru the window onto the fire escape landing.
The agent being held hostage on the landing two stories below heard the glass break so when Callen stepped out on to the landing, she looked directly up at him. Though he kept his mask in place, his heart missed a beat when he finally identified the agent in distress.