I discovered NCIS Los Angeles a few weeks ago and instantly became intrigued about the enigma that is G. Callen. This is my first fanfic for this programme and is set early in Season 2 not long after Deeks joins the team. I am not familiar with Los Angeles which means I will be vague about actual locations.
The Price of a Life
Chapter One
Eric's trademark piercing whistle echoed around the NCIS headquarters. "Hetty wants everyone in the Ops center."
The three members of the team on duty looked up expectantly. "Sounds like we have a new assignment," Sam said.
"Great," Kensi replied. "I just hope it isn't a stakeout. Spending hours in the car with Deeks is my idea of hell."
"Hey," Deeks protested. "It's not my fault you don't know how to spend time with a man without thinking about sex."
Kensi rolled her eyes. "Now I have a picture in my mind that will mentally scar me for life."
"Save it, children," Sam chided. "You know what happens when we keep Hetty waiting."
"What?" Deeks asked. "What happens?"
Sam looked at the younger man, a serious expression on his face. "You don't ever want to find out."
Deeks trailed after Sam and Kensi. "It can't be too bad. She isn't that scary." He stopped halfway up the stairs to think. "Well, I'll admit she's kinda scary. Small but..." He realized that he was talking to himself and hurried to catch up.
Sam and Kensi's grins faded when they walked into the unusual silence. Eric, sitting at his work station, had his back to them, his fingers flying over the keyboard. Hetty, her expression somber, stood in front of the large screen, her hands clasped behind her back. The screen itself was blank.
"The video you are about to see arrived less than ten minutes ago," Hetty said. "Mr. Beale is working to trace its origin." She walked to the side of the screen to give them an uninterrupted view. "If you please, Mr. Beale."
Eric pressed a button and the screen lit up. The picture was blurred for a moment before becoming sharper, presumably due to the camera operator adjusting the focus. The lens was trained on a man shackled to a chair. His bowed head was covered with a black hood and his grey t-shirt was ripped and blood stained.
Sam took a step forward, his brow creased by a frown. "How are we supposed to ID him if we can't see his face?"
"Patience, Mr. Hanna."
The only sound on the tape was the prisoner's labored breathing. Another man walked into view wearing a ski mask. He ignored the camera, reaching down to pull off the hood. The man in the chair raised his head slowly, dazed blue eyes locating and fixing on the camera.
Sam's heart missed a beat. "G!"
The left side of Callen's face was red and swollen, his eye partly closed. A cloth, shoved between his teeth and tied behind his head, ensured his silence.
"Eric, we need a trace now," Sam said.
"I'm trying. The video feed has been routed through numerous IP addresses." Eric's frustration could be heard clearly.
"What's your agent's life worth?" the masked man asked. "I'm feeling generous, despite the fact that he infiltrated my organization. You have twenty-four hours to think about that before I auction him off to the highest bidder. I'm sure there are a number of domestic and foreign groups who would love to get their hands on Mr. Callen."
Callen's gaze moved to his captor before returning to the camera. The slight shake of his head sent out a message which was wholly unnecessary. 'Don't negotiate.' The harsh truth, which Callen knew as well as any of them, was that negotiation wasn't an option.
"Tell me you've found something," Sam almost growled at their tech operator.
"Nearly there," Eric replied.
The screen went blank.
"What was he working on?" Kensi asked.
"It was a deep cover operation. There was a lot of chatter about a group that was targeting the intelligence community. We had a lead and sent Mr. Callen in to exploit it."
"Without back-up?" Sam asked.
"I felt that Mr. Callen would be safer if we cut him off completely. He agreed. For the last ten days we have had no information on his whereabouts."
"How could you do that?" Sam asked. "How could you just leave him out there on his own?"
"He is an experienced operative as you very well know, Mr. Hanna. He knew the risks and accepted them."
"They know his real name," Kensi said. "I get that they might have found out that he was an undercover operative, but how did they find out his name? Callen's a ghost and he wouldn't have told them even under torture."
"That is a very good question, Miss Blye. We can ask them when we find them."
"Got it!" Eric called excitedly. A street scene flashed onto the screen. "It's a bank but it's been empty for the last couple of years and is scheduled for demolition. I've sent the address to your phone, Sam."
"Let's go," Sam ordered, heading for the door at a run.
"Be careful," Hetty called after them before adding in a softer voice, "and bring our boy home."
NCISLA
Callen sat on the thin mattress which had been placed in one corner of the room. His right wrist was encircled by a metal cuff to which a thick chain was attached. The other end of the chain was bolted to the wall well above head height. The chain was long enough to allow him to reach a primitive toilet and a tap which was the only source of water. The smell was unpleasant.
He'd been thoroughly searched after the beating which had left almost every inch of his body covered in bruises. Anything that might have been used to pick the lock on the cuff had been removed. The one time that he had tried to pry the tap from the wall had resulted in a second beating, more severe than the first. He now had cracked ribs and a swollen left knee to contend with.
He glared at the winking red light of the camera. It was close to the ceiling and swivelled to follow his every move. Used to hardship and a lack of privacy while on some of his more remote assignments, the scrutiny in itself didn't bother him. The fact that Trask knew he belonged to NCIS, and knew his true identity, was what troubled him.
He settled his back against the corner of the wall, feeling the chill from the bricks seeping through his shirt. The room had no windows so it was hard to judge the passage of time. A naked bulb hanging from the ten foot ceiling provided the only light. The heavy metal door, tantalisingly out of reach, was locked whenever he was left alone.
There had been no attempt to question him. Trask seemed disinterested in pursuing that pointless exercise and didn't want to risk Callen's premature death. Money was the object; a lot of money. Callen has a sinking feeling that there were several psychopathic people who would be prepared to pay almost any price for the pleasure of torturing and killing him.
Being ransomed by the Government, however, wasn't a viable solution to his present predicament. He was under no illusions about that. Hetty would take it hard, but would have no choice other than to follow protocol. His best hope lay with his team, particularly with Sam. The former SEAL had made it clear many times that he still operated on the principle that you never leave a member of your team behind. Sometimes, though, the odds were just stacked against you.
He sighed, adjusting his position to take the strain off his ribs, and wondered if his luck was finally about to run out.
NCISLA
After the financial crash of 2008 many banks had closed their doors, not all of them voluntarily. The building that Eric had pinpointed had been one of those casualties. It sat in a rundown neighbourhood, home to the kind of people who were happiest after dark when they could pursue their illegal occupations relatively free from interference. The handful of people on the street looked to Sam like they were coming down from last night's high and showed no interest in their surroundings.
Sam parked the car a block away from the building. Kensi, sitting in the passenger seat, was checking her SIG. Deeks leaned forward from his place in the back seat, eager to get into action. They all wore bulletproof vests with NCIS prominently displayed on the back.
Sam touched his earpiece to activate the link with HQ. "We're in position. It looks quiet. What do you see, Eric?"
"There's a traffic cam a couple of blocks down which gives a view of the front door. No eyes on the rear of the building. We've been watching since you left. No one has gone in or out."
"Any heat signatures?" Kensi asked.
"The walls are reinforced concrete which makes it hard to get a reading. What we do know is that there are two entrances. One at the front and one on the west side of the building."
"So we're going in blind?" Deeks asked.
"It won't be the first time," Sam said. "Keep your eyes and ears open and we'll do just fine."
"Mr. Hanna." Hetty's voice came over the comlink. "Director Vance has authorized you to take any action necessary to secure the location and retrieve Mr. Callen."
Sam's mouth turned up in a feral grin. "My pleasure."
The three agents exited the car. Sam gestured to the rear of the building. "Kensi, you and Deeks take the side door. I'm going in the front. Shoot anything that moves."
Kensi nodded, touched Sam gently on the arm and then took off with Deeks right behind her.
Sam kept to the shadows while he worked his way toward the front of the building. It stood only one storey high. The large windows fronting the sidewalk were dirty and covered with blinds which had seen better days. He ducked down to keep his head below the level of the glass, not willing to take any risks. The door was locked. He holstered his gun, pulled out his lock pick, and had it open in under thirty seconds.
Gun in hand, he took a long, calming breath. "Hang on G.," he whispered. "We're on our way."
The door creaked on unoiled hinges. Sam froze in place, listening intently for any sounds from inside the building. His breathing was even; his training and experience as a SEAL and as a NCIS agent settling over him like a second skin.
Soft footed he moved into the building. He saw the front counter, a high desk for customers and a couple of broken chairs lying on the ground. Standing close to the wall he studied the floor. Boot prints marred the layer of dust on the floor, stark evidence that several people had been in the building recently. Off to one side were a series of scuff marks. Sam narrowed his eyes. He would be willing to bet that they'd been made by his partner, who would not have gone willingly with his captors.
He followed the line of prints leading to the door which would take him behind the counter and into the secure area which had once housed the bank employees. The card reader had been smashed and dangled uselessly from its wires. The door stood ajar. Sam put his left hand on the handle, shoved the door open and darted through. He turned from side to side, his gun at the ready. There were no signs of life.
The next door led to a long corridor. Hearing movement, he took aim, only relaxing when Deeks peered round the corner at the far end. Sam pointed to the doors on to his right. Deeks nodded. He and Kensi searched each office, moving together as a team, their earlier bickering forgotten, while Sam concentrated on the offices to his left.
"Clear," he called when he reached the end of the corridor.
"Clear," Kensi answered, disappointment clear in her voice.
They walked back out into the open work space. "There's one place we haven't looked," Sam said. He pointed to the door leading to the strong room.
"If it's locked we'll have to blast it open," Kensi said.
"Any news, Mr. Hanna?" Hetty asked, sounding more strained than Sam had ever heard her before.
"No hostiles," he answered. "No sign of G either. We're still looking so stand by."
The safe had a combination lock which was as battered as the card reader. Kensi and Deeks readied themselves, guns pointed toward the door. Sam pulled and the door opened smoothly. He peered into the gloom before turning back to his team.
"He isn't here."
Tbc
Caroline
September, 2012