Eye to Eye
~ For those who noticed him — they'd see what they wanted to see, what he wanted them to see. ~
Eye to Eye, chapter 3
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The immediate extradition was less immediate in the end.
From the parking lot near the shopping center, he called the number he knew by heart, to hear what Hetty heard in the meantime.
"Numbers, dear boy. Numbers." It was all she told him as she started mentioning a series of numbers which she knew she did not have to explain any further.
Coordinates and time. He scribbled them on the receipt of the car rental company.
"So I guess it means I could catch some sleep," Callen replied.
"Indeed it does." Her voice remained calm, her message short. "Take care. Call the other number in case things take another turn."
He nodded, though he was aware it was something Hetty could not see. "Fifteen hours. After that, you know I did not succeed."
There was no reply, just the short click, which meant she hung up. He checked his watch. One minute, fourteen seconds. Within the infamous two minutes, Short enough to keep the call untraceable in both countries. No names, no further intel.
Callen got out of the car, entered the shopping center and, paying with the bunch of cash levs he bought two new prepaid cards for the phone. He ditched the one that was in the phone but did not replace it yet.
The city map showed a family hotel nearby. The holiday season wasn't over yet, but the hotels would not be crowded like in the summertime. Places like this hotel Argo, in Varna's city center, would attract both families as business people.
Safe enough.
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Varna, Bulgaria, hotel Argo || 10:00 PM
Two hours later, the lonely businessman sat at a table in the lobby in the hotel. Freshly showered, clean shaven, dressed in a dark grey pair of jeans, which combined well with the light blue button-down shirt. For the occasion, he left his tie and jacket away.
For those who noticed him — they'd see what they wanted to see, what he wanted them to see.
He sipped from his Turkish coffee and studied one of the newspapers he fetched from the reception.
In fact, its Cyrillic script held no surprises for him but he only scanned the headlines, wondering meanwhile what to do for the next couple of hours.
Callen finished his coffee and got up. There were several folders which highlighted the city's sights, and a city map with some of Varna's surroundings.
He took it with him, folded it and tuck it into his pockets, knowing it might come in handy.
Then he took a seat at the bar, ordered a beer and looked around. So far, he'd seen some other people who travelled or stayed around alone, like himself. He spotted the same older man who had dinner at the same time as him. Grey hair, grey suit. His clothes were rather wrinkled, which went for the skin on his face, near his eyes, as well. With that, he had a moustache which he hadn't taken care of lately, since it needed some trimming.
"Nasdrave!" Callen held up his glass, wishing the other man a nice drink as well.
There were two woman sitting opposite of each other, each of them busy with their phones or hand-held computer. He didn't know if they travelled together or apart from each other. Callen narrowed his eyes.
The woman who faced him was, he assumed, halfway her thirties. Long blond hair, perfectly manicured hands and nails. Maybe a stewardess, maybe an international lawyer. The other woman sat, perfectly straight, a cell phone in her left hand, a glass of wine next to it. Left handed, he observed. No nail varnish like her companion. Dark, nearly black, wavy hair which barely reached her shoulders. Both women were dressed rather casual, suiting the time of the day.
At one of the other tables sat a family. Two boys, the youngest yawning. Bedtime, he mused. The older brother must have said something teasing, in a language Callen did not understand. It made the mother say something sharp, and the older boy got up in a rush, leaving the others.
Callen sighed. Like the boy, he needed some time alone. He finished his beer, counted the coins he had with him and paid, leaving a tip for the bartender.
He walked by the table where the blonde sent him a flashing smile. The other woman hardly looked up from what she was doing. Still, he caught her curious look from behind a pair of deep purple glasses she wore.
Minutes later in his hotel room, Callen opened his laptop, took his CAC card to log in and chose the personal code to identify himself. Now he was sure his moves would not be traced, not by the wrong people.
He entered the range of numbers Hetty had recited '093043626N28567E' and cursed aloud. It was even closer to Romania, farther up North, sixty miles to be exactly, a place called Krapets.
'What is it that you're up to, Grace,' he muttered.
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NCIS Office of Special Projects, Los Angeles || January 4
Henrietta Lange stirred her hot tea.
So far, she had resisted calling any of the other agents and sent them to Europe as well. Never mind the fact she knew both Grace Stevens as G. Callen were excellent and experienced agents, there was the nagging feeling that things might take the wrong turn.
Since Grace Stevens had not let her know why she was in Bulgaria and why she wanted to leave the country so badly to need help with it, but only let her know the set time for that, she wished she had ears and eyes around the place herself.
Relying on others was a task which was a burden, heavier to carry by the day.
For now, she could only hope her decision to take precautions and have someone else watching out for her agents, would just be an unneeded step.
She sighed deeply, her thoughts far away. She took a sip of her tea. It was too hot and she burned her tongue, something that hardly ever happened.
"Oh bugger."
The exclamation sounded loud, however, in the now deserted office there was no-one around who'd take notice of that.
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Krapets Beach, unnamed Road || January 5, before 09:30 AM
Early in the morning Callen put a new card in his cell phone and left the hotel. He took the car and drove up North on the highway 9. At 9:18 Callen parked the car next to a small, unoccupied beach-house. He scanned the surroundings. Nothing out of the ordinary, not now.
He'd expected Grace to be around already, eager to get away — from what?
He checked his gun again, assured it was ready to use, if necessary. He closed his eyes for a brief moment and breathed in deeply, concentrating on the crucial next 10 minutes. After all, this was the moment he'd needed to be at his best. Then he left the car, stood for a moment to watch what was going around on the beach.
Obviously, it was dog walking time.
A family of three, a bright red ball — the yellow retriever never minded splashing into the cold January water. Two men walked passed with a dog that kept looking up to check if it was doing what the boss expected it to do.
He shivered. Early January in Bulgaria certainly was much colder than early January in Los Angeles. Although he put on a warm sweater and pulled up the zipper of his leather coat, Callen still felt the cold breeze chilling him if he stood like he did. He walked the opposite direction of there the men had gone.
Then, thunderstruck, he stopped. From the short distance, it was as if a short and horrible movie was repeated — the sad story of his own past.
It was the boy he saw, watching his serious face as he played in the sand. Building sandcastles, even now, while his mother was looking down at her son with a broad smile on her face.
Less than 100 miles from that same place where he had been that young boy, once, and it had been his mother watching how he played. R
ight now, he saw how it was the mother who'd dyed her hair in the same nearly black color as his own mom had hers.
It was Grace, and she gratefully mouthed 'Callen'. Forgetting to watch her back.
He saw them coming from different directions, but he was sluggish, needed to get rid of his own memories, had to focus on the here and now. Callen drew his gun, seconds before the shooting started and he hoped he aimed right and was in time to save her.
Thank you for reading. Any reviews are welcome.
Kni®benrots