Charlie Goes to Jail

Disclaimer: Standard, don't own the show.
A/N: Hi all! It's been awhile, I know, but I finally carved out some time to write. Also, in my defense, this story was in the works before Sam and Callen went undercover at a prison on the actual show. Great minds think alike?

Wilson Clark settled into one of the chairs at the table. He gazed around the room, taking in the eclectic mix of furniture. He'd spotted two cameras and was under no illusion that someone wasn't watching him right now. The kind of people he was meeting were known for their skittishness when they met people like him.

A taciturn man had let him in the building, pointed towards the table and retreated down a hallway. Clark hadn't expected a warm welcome so he wasn't surprised when he wasn't offered any hospitality. That's what happens when you force a meeting while holding on to the reasons for it. His position gave him certain privileges but he still had to burn a favour to get to this spot. He hoped he could garner a new one after he laid out what he knew. A quick glance at his watch told him that he was still early. He almost wanted to throw a wave at one of the cameras, but didn't, aware that he wasn't on firm footings here.

Exactly five minutes late two men entered the room. Several lines of inquiry flooded Clark's mind. Was the five minutes deliberate or a result of traffic? He wondered if these two were able to make the decisions he would present or were they merely gophers for the bosses. Although, he saw intelligence in their eyes as they approached and he became more confident that he was being taken seriously.

The men grabbed chairs across from him and sat down. They silently stared at Clark who took it in stride; he knew this play well. The difference here was that he wasn't going to be holding anything back anymore. He couldn't. His only problem was to try to ensure the safety of his source, and he hadn't quite worked out a solution to that problem yet.

"This is a matter of both national security and the protection of one man." He broke the silence.

The men made eye contact and Clark watched as they seemed to have a conversation without speaking. The one tipped his head to the other who nodded back.

"We're going to need some more detail." The one who nodded squinted at him as he spoke while the other leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms.

"As the message I sent said, I have all the information you'll need, Mr…" Clark raised an eyebrow.

"Agent." The man bit off.

"Agent…" Clark tried, but all he got was stony silence. He figured as much, it was time to give up what he knew. "As a JAG lawyer I can represent either side depending on what I'm assigned. I've been in this business for a long time; worked my way up the ranks to where I stand now." He lifted a shoulder as to bring attention to his rank. "There was this sailor that I defended on an embezzlement charge. Well, defended isn't the right word, he knew what he did and I pushed to get the lightest sentence possible in return for him pleading guilty. I received a call from him a few weeks ago with some serious accusations."

"What's his name?" The one leaning back sat up straight.

"Not yet." Clark shook his head. He wanted to make sure they understood the gravity of the situation first. "He's serving his time in the local Navy jail."

A smirk formed on the one man's face as he rubbed his thumb, "We know it well."

"He's noticed something." Clark took a deep breath. "There are several guards who are passing messages for some of the terrorist organizations."

That caught the men off-guard. They had another telepathic conversation.

"I have proof." Clark opened his briefcase and pulled out the only evidence he could dig up without tipping his hand. It was a piece of paper that his client had risked his life to pickpocket off of one of the guards. The effort his client had put into contacting Clark and then arranging to pass it off had taken months. Clark ground his teeth at the amount of information that had been funneled out in that time. He pushed it across the table and watched as they skimmed it. They could clearly both read it as their lips moved as their eyes moved. He breathed an internal sigh of relief – he'd come to the right place.

The one pointed to himself "I'm Callen. This is Agent Hanna." He pointed at the man who once again leaned back. "Walk us through what else you know."

"He noticed it a while back but it took him time to figure out what was going on. I got the paper from him under the pretense that his case was under review, but unfortunately that excuse has run its course. On top of that, he's too scared for his life if either the guards or the inmates discover he knows to tell just anyone."

"Who's 'just anyone'?" Agent Callen narrowed his eyes.

Clark sighed. "Lawyers are out. You don't know who's going to be on what rotation so it's possible that one of the guilty guards could be on visitor duty on the day you visit. Our consultations are supposed to be privileged, but the insulation in those walls is getting old. Sound seeps out."

Agent Hanna frowned. "We can't go in as agents and tip them off."

Callen twisted to face his partner. "I'm not confident we could pull him out and bring him here. Obviously we'd have to send him back at some point and the same inmates are going to be there. What are we going to do, put them in jail?" A dark humour laced his last statement.

"Send someone in?" Hanna shrugged. "We've done it before."

Clark felt some of the weight lift off his shoulders. He was dealing with professionals.

"Guard?"

"Might look a bit weird a guard focussing on one inmate."

"So inmate, then."

"You're out. Janvier's there. You two have a history."

"So are you then. Remember, he blew your cover,"

"Blye's out, she's a she."

"Guess that leaves Deeks."

"We're not sending Eric."

"Don't think Granger would go?"

That drew a scoffing laugh from Agent Hanna. They both turned back to Clark. Agent Callen drilled him with a look. "We need everything you know."

Clark picked up a file folder. "This is everything." He gave a sheepish shrug. "I'm old-school, I like paper."

Callen hefted the stack. "Clearly." He tucked it under his arm. "We'll be in touch if we need you."

They shook hands and Clark moved towards the door he was point at. The sun felt good on his face as he walked to the car. He silently wished them luck.