Chapter 2: Danger

"As soon go kindle fire with snow, as seek to quench the fire of love with words." - William Shakespeare.

Deeks spends the entire night tossing and turning and Callen's words from the previous evening are still circling around in his mind like a herd of fire ants as he loops around the block twice before pulling into his space outside the Spanish Mission that disguises OSP's offices. It's still early for anyone other than the techs to be at work and it surprises Deeks to see Callen's blue Jag already parked three spaces ahead of him.

Deeks heads toward the front door, notes that Sam's Challenger isn't here yet which in itself is kind of surprising because the lead pair of partners are usually like each other's second shadow, and tries to block out the fire ant colony that's attempting to build a nest between his ears.

Are you saying she's in danger?

Yes.

Deeks shakes his head, drops his go-bag beside his desk, and frowns as the sound of rapid fire arguing catches his attention. Callen's pacing a furious circuit across the second floor walk way opposite ops, a satellite phone in one hand, the other curling into a loose fist at his side as he listens to whatever the person on the other end of the line has to say. Deeks reflexively cringes as Callen's expression darkens before he snaps back in something that sounds vaguely Russian.

The rest of the conversation is short, sweet, and probably filled with a few threats of bodily harm, and the lead agent listens for a moment more before he hangs up without a word. Deeks pulls out his laptop, and wonders what exactly that was about as he waits for it to boot, before logging into the private NCIS server. He looks up from his screen just in time to catch Callen watching him, an unreadable expression on the agent's face, before he flicks two fingers at Deeks in a come here gesture.

Deeks steps away from behind his desk, pulls the back of his shirt down to cover the butt of his gun, and heads for the stairs. There are a million possible reasons for Callen wanting to talk to him, from a training exercise to an upcoming op or possibly the stack of reports in his inbox that he has yet to finish, but his mind automatically jumps to the most important: Kensi, and if she's alright.

Is she ok?

So far, maybe not for much longer…

He reaches the second floor and tries to push the though away. Callen may have one hell of a poker face, but Sam and Kensi are family and there's no way he'd risk their safety. Instead he falls back on the old stand-by of humor and gestures to the sat phone in his boss' hand, "You get blood on Hetty's wardrobe again?"

"That's not even funny, Deeks." Callen says, but smiles nevertheless.

"While if it wasn't the dry cleaners that you were arguing with," Deeks says, wondering just how straight of an answer he'll get this time.

"One of my CIA contacts," Callen explains, moving to stand in front of the window. "She's stationed in Kiev right now."

"The CIA's involved in the Crimea situation," Deeks concludes, as he steps up to stand beside his team leader.

"Yes," G offers, being surprisingly open. "It's classified, but yes."

That has international incident waiting to happen written all over it and by the tone of Callen's phone call it's going to go south sooner rather than later. Still it's not their jurisdiction at the moment and Kensi's safety is infinitely more important to him so Deeks moves along, giving Callen a sideways glance as he tries to predict just how long this uncharacteristic openness is going to last. Finally, he decides, "But that's not what you wanted to talk about, is it?"

"No," Callen admits. He needs to play this carefully, too much information could put Deeks at risk, but not enough would mean sending half his team into a potentially explosive situation blind. "What do you know about White Ghost?"

"Nothing," Deeks answers truthfully. Kensi was remarkably tight-lipped about the nature of her classified mission during their stolen phone call at Christmas. "I'm going to take a wild guess and say it has nothing to do with racist spectres though."

"You'd be right, Deeks." Callen says, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips before he sobers, "But it does have everything to do with what your partner's doing."

"Right," Deeks sighs, trying to make the few puzzle pieces he has fit together. So, Kensi's classified assignment, which may or may not be about to go south, has something to do with a White Ghost, who is not in fact a racist spectre. That makes perfect sense. "And Kensi is where, again?"

Callen huffs a breath, eyes drifting down to the sat phone in his hand, before looking Deeks in the eye. And before the agent can say anything Deeks discovers another universal truth. That Granger has the worst timing of any human being he has ever met.

The double side doors bang shut, effectively cutting off any more information before Deeks can get a clue as to where his partner has been reassigned to, and admitting the assistant director in all his balding, annoying glory.

G catches the flicker of irritation that crosses Deeks' face and chuckles. Callen's made no bones about exactly how he feels about Owen Granger's interference. "We'll talk later, Deeks."

Deeks nods and turns to walk away, knowing any openness the lead agent was showing has just left the building. His answers will have to wait.