"I've been watching you for quite a while. You have great potential Mr Callen, and I have a plan for you."
The engine of the jet black Crown Victoria purred softly as the car drove through a maze of leafy suburban roads at a stately pace. There was no rush to reach their destination, though there was an intense desire from one of its occupants to increase the speed and the distance from their place of origin. Callen sat in the rear, acutely aware that his every action and reaction was being closely assessed by his new guardian. She had finally introduced herself as Henrietta Lange, or 'Hetty' as she insisted he call her. Hetty had advised they were heading to Encino where she had a 'modest' house with a pool. Callen wondered who else lived there and what they were like. He couldn't imagine that his new guardian had her own kids so he guessed he would once again be fighting for attention amongst others his age. Or even better, he could just melt into the background and become invisible. Instead of answering, Callen had simply nodded an acknowledgement to her words and there was a gap before Hetty spoke again. This time she introduced her driver Curtis, a former marine Hetty employed as her chauffeur and to maintain her property. He was on call twenty-four-seven and lived in the annex. Curtis turned and smiled at Callen as they stopped at a set of lights. Callen stared at him suspiciously. He had encountered ex-forces men before and they had been seriously screwed up with drinking and drug problems, which meant they had a temper. And that inevitably led to physical abuse. Callen made a mental note to avoid Curtis at all costs. The man looked powerful and he would hate to be on the receiving end of his fists.
He stole a sideways glance at Hetty, who was sat next to him in the rear of the car and tried to get a read on her. The words of the arresting LAPD officer still rang in his ears. That bastard thought he should be tried as an adult for deliberately driving the stolen car directly at them; he had said it was 'assault on an officer with a deadly weapon'. Callen subconsciously tapped his fingers together, wondering what his sentence would have been if all his crimes from the past few hours were accumulated. He ran a mental tally; assaulting a prison officer, escaping juvie, stealing a car, driving without a license and yes, he did deliberately drive the car at the two officers, as well as resisting arrest. Add that to the fact he was only weeks into a three month sentence for breaking and entering (additional charges of persistent truancy had originally been dropped), and Callen reckoned he would have been lucky to be out of prison by the time he reached twenty five. He knew Hetty must have some major contacts for LAPD to drop all charges against him, and to get him released into her custody rather than social services. Callen returned to staring out the window, shaking his head slightly and wondering what conditions would be imposed on him. There would be a curfew, definitely, and he would have to go back to school. Maybe she would make him earn his keep, and he'd have to help with the maintenance of her house - and that would mean he'd be working with that ex-marine...But she did say he could stay as long as he liked. What if he only stayed for a few days and then left? Would he be returned to social services or re-arrested? His biggest questions though, surrounded this potential he apparently had, and why she had been watching him. That just sounded freaky. What was in it for her? In his experience, do-gooders always had ulterior motives.
Callen had remained silent throughout the drive. He alternated between staring at his hands which were loosely clasped together in his lap, and staring out the window. After they had left the roads of West Hollywood, the landscape had become increasingly unfamiliar. Only once had he ventured in to this part of Los Angeles, and that was when the Rostoff's had insisted on taking Callen and their young daughter on a sight-seeing tour. The entire family had marvelled at the type of properties in which the rich, famous and infamous lived. Callen knew they were driving towards an affluent area but still not the richest part of town. He remained expressionless at the passing scenery, trying not to show that he felt both intrigue and trepidation as to his future. Gated driveways provided a glimpse of the decadent houses that were spaced many hundreds of meters apart. The car slowed, passing a beautiful whitewashed mansion. The next house was not even visible from the road; the high wrought iron gates were open and the car turned left, gliding gently up the long driveway and coming to a halt in front of an enormous red bricked mansion.
Callen ran his fingers through his dirty, scruffy hair and turned to look at Hetty. She met his stare and placed a hand on his forearm, nodding in the direction of his door. Callen instinctively flinched and pulled away, fumbling for the door hand just as Curtis opened it for him. He climbed out and quickly stepped away from the man and the car. He did not see the look of pain which flitted across Hetty's face or the shared glance with Curtis. Instead he stared at the building, stretching his shoulders and wincing slightly as he remembered the earlier punches he'd received from the prison officer. Another reminder he thought, not to trust anyone in a position of power.
Callen was led through the wide and opulent entrance to the kitchen, which seemed to be almost as large as the grandiose hallway. Hetty asked him to sit whilst she poured him a fresh orange juice and placed a plateful of cookies in front of him. The house was quiet and Callen could instantly tell there was not another child living there. He was unsure if that made him feel nervous or safe. Hetty sat down opposite and clasped her hands together, resting them on the table and leaning forward. Here it comes, Callen thought, the rules.
'Mr Callen, I'm sure you have a lot of questions running through your head but first I want to give you the choice of exploring the house and the grounds. I always think that while first impressions can sometimes be misleading, the feel of a house, a home is instinctive. Please, feel free to enter in to every room, garage, nook and cranny. When you return I will be here to provide some of those answers you're looking for.'
Callen took a long drink from his glass, using the time to process her words. No rules - yet - and a choice of talking or exploring. He grudgingly admitted that Hetty's words made sense, although he liked to think that he usually judged people correctly within seconds of meeting them. Still, some time to himself to think things over would be good. He stood up, grabbing a handful of cookies and holding them tight in his hand.
'I'll explore first. Everywhere?' he added, unsure about the freedom he had been granted.
'Everywhere,' Hetty affirmed with a smile. 'Every room, upstairs and down. And every garage and outbuilding. Your room is at the top of the stairs, first on the left. You have an en suite bathroom.'
Callen nodded in understanding and moved away from the table. He stuffed a cookie in his mouth and walked back to the hallway, dropping crumbs as he went.
Hetty's smile tightened a little as she watch him leave. She was convinced Callen would feel comfortable and safe enough in her home and she certainly wasn't bothered about the mess the fifteen year old boy was already making. But her concerns were twofold. Firstly that he wouldn't like the answers she had to give and secondly, that she might actually be too late to save him from himself.
Callen spent several hours exploring the house and grounds and even then, he was certain he had missed crucial areas. The rooms were filled with weird and wonderful antiquities that looked very expensive. If he needed to runaway, there was plenty he could steal that would set him up for a number of months. In many of the rooms books adorned floor to ceiling bookcases and covered a wide variety of topics and languages. He had opened cupboards in the formal dining room, taking note of the drinks cabinet and the high stock level of whisky and brandy, resisting the immediate temptation to take a sneaky swig. His bedroom was three times the size of the one in his last foster home. The bed was large and comfy and the furniture was already filled with clothes his size. There was a small black and white TV, a desk and a cushioned wicker chair. The en suite contained a bath with overhead shower, basin and toilet. Callen looked out his bedroom window and was pleased to see that a vine and drain pipe were in grasping distance. Easy escape, he thought. The windows were unlocked with a key which he quickly pocketed. He turned back to the door and again saw a key in the keyhole, with a bolt higher up. He turned the key and slid the bolt home. Satisfied they both worked, he unlocked the door and pocketed the key, nodding in silent approval.
Callen moved outside and stared at the grounds from the front of the house towards the road. There was no way he could explore everything in one afternoon. He wandered down the driveway, pleased to see the gate was still open. His eyes followed the high boundary wall and he instinctively moved to explore them. There were plenty of nearby trees he could climb if he needed to leave without being seen. With the front of the property loosely covered, Callen returned to the garages that were situated next to the house. He rolled up the shutters and stepped inside to see two cars covered with tarpaulin and the black Crown Victoria from earlier. He took a peak underneath the first sheet, before pulling it all the way back and letting out a low whistle. Callen gently ran his hand along the body of a silver Shelby Cobra. It looked in immaculate condition. Having circumnavigated the car, he opened the driver's door and sat down with a huge smile plastered across his face. He caressed the steering wheel and pumped his feet against the pedals. Without even thinking he moved his hands beneath the wheel and felt for the wires that would enable the car to be hotwired. He thought that maybe there were advantages to him staying here, at least for a while.
Having pulled the tarpaulin back over the Cobra Callen swiftly moved to the rear of the house where he encountered a tennis court and a small wooden summer house which overlooked a swimming pool. It was all very impressive but not of much interest to him. What did interest him was a brick outbuilding that stood toward the rear of the gardens that contained work benches and tools. Yet again the door was unlocked and Callen spied an old transistor radio. When it failed to turn on, he grabbed a screwdriver and prised it open, determined to make it work.
Hetty was still sitting at the kitchen table when Callen finally returned from his exploration. He had been gone a number of hours during which Hetty made herself countless cups of tea whilst receiving updates from Curtis who was covertly spying on the teenager. Overall, Hetty was pleased that her new charge was interested enough to take the time to thoroughly investigate his surroundings and not just bolt.
'Well?' Hetty asked. 'Do you think you would like to stay here for a while?'
Callen shrugged his shoulders in reply. 'Maybe. For a bit.'
'Good.' Hetty took the noncommittal answer as an affirmative. 'Now that's settled why don't we have that chat. We can stay here or sit wherever you feel most at ease.'
Callen thought for a moment. 'Here.'
'Very well. Now what would you like to know?'
'What plan do you have for me?'
Hetty laughed. 'Straight to the point. I like that. Well Mr Callen before I come to that, let me tell you a story or two. Some of them may seem rather farfetched and somewhat unbelievable, but I would very much like you to respect me enough to let me finish.'
Callen narrowed his eyes in suspicion. This had to be something really freakish. And story time? Did she think he was a child or something? But he figured he owed her for saving his ass earlier and if nothing else, he wanted to enjoy a place of refuge for a few nights.
'OK,' he agreed.
Hetty took a deep breath. No matter how many times she had given vulnerable youths versions of this story, she was always unsure how it would be received. She had been laughed at and ridiculed. Some had insisted on leaving as soon as she finished. Others had humoured her. Of those who stayed, only a few turned out not to have the capacity required. The majority of her chosen ones had eventually successfully graduated from her 'off the records' programme and served their country through clandestine work.
Despite his initial apathy towards Hetty's story time, Callen gradually became immersed in a world where bad habits and criminal skills were used to protect and serve innocent civilians the world over. There seemed no strings attached to these stories which mainly focused on an individual or small group of people who were highly trained. Callen found himself leaning forward on the table, his hands cupped around his face, almost living the moment. Fiercely fighting the bad guys and adopting various techniques to win, from street fighting and bar room brawls to martial arts. He was perched on a roof top in the middle east, patiently waiting in the heat of the midday sun, scoping out the opposite building, ready to take the sniper shot to assassinate the USAs most wanted man. And then he was assuming an alias to infiltrate a gang in order to bust a child smuggling ring.
Dusk had fallen by the time Hetty had finished and she studied the fifteen year old boy in front. She could always tell within the opening minutes whether her subject matter was of interest and Callen had clearly been transported to a reality far removed from his own life. His eyes had widened in excitement at the escapades and his jaw dropped in amazement at the successful gambles in dubious situations. All she had to do now was promise him he had the potential to live such a life.
'Callen,' Hetty started. 'These are not just fictional stories. These are real life accounts from men and women who work for a variety of different intelligence agencies throughout the world.' Hetty refrained from using the words 'law enforcement', realising they might be deal breakers with her potential protégé. 'Many of the people out in the field, infiltrating criminal and terrorist groups and recruiting foreign intelligence assets have been purposely selected and trained based on their raw talents. Skills such as being able to read people and situations, the ability to adapt instantly and adopt different personas and aliases. Acquiring data through illicit means and blending in with foreign nationals like a native, speaking the language, living the culture. Having the physical skills for hand to hand combat and the confidence to make split second decisions. And overall, being mentally suited for undercover work. Many of these people started life on the wrong side of the tracks for reasons that were not their fault. And you are one such person, Mr Callen. In you I see the potential to develop the skills you already have already acquired to enable a career in the intelligence arena.'
'What do you mean?' Callen's head was spinning and he was struggling to grasp exactly what Hetty had to offer him.
'I mean that you already have the raw talent and skills to develop in to a first class agent and serve your country. There are many different avenues that would suit you; espionage, surveillance, intelligence gathering, covert operations. I can train you in all of those and if you work with me, the world will literally be your oyster. You can work independently abroad, adopt different identities and ultimately, the end goal is always to save innocent lives. To protect those who are unable to protect themselves.'
'I have a criminal record, I was in juvie but you want me to be a spy? Like in the CIA? Like law enforcement..?' Callen leaned back in his chair and wanted to laugh. It made no sense - except it sort of did...
'You can't change your past but I am a firm believer that you can change your future. If you can learn from your mistakes and move forward. You could decide not to change, to continue living your life as you have been and that would be your choice. But you need to ask yourself where you would be in two, five, ten years time if you don't make that change now?'
Hetty paused to let the words sink in. She knew Callen was bright despite having reviewed his abysmal school reports. His personal circumstances had naturally led him to a life where criminal activities and lying became the norm to stay alive. She had also been privy to several of his psych evaluations and understood that a main driver for his actions was to protect people, although that desire often manifested itself in varying degrees of violence.
'Or you can decide to embrace the future.' Hetty continued. 'I can guide you into taking control of your life and forging a career that will help stop innocent people suffering through oppressive regimes, gang warfare, people smuggling, drugs, terrorism. You, Mr Callen have great potential to make a difference to so many lives. I would like you to give yourself the chance to prove it to yourself.'
'It sounds - weird.'
'I know. There is a lot to take in and I don't expect you to make a decision here and now. What I do want to do is present the details to enable you to make an informed choice so you can take control of your future.'
'What details? You haven't actually said what you will train me in.'
'You will need to complete your education. There is a high school several miles away which I believe would suit you better than a private school. Although that can be arranged if you prefer?'
'School sucks.' Callen scowled. He knew that no matter how hard he tried, he had just missed so much schooling that he was always behind and that meant being kept down a year or in a class full of other kids that were just as troubled as he was, or just plain thick.
'I'm sure it does Mr Callen, but this is non-negotiable. How do you expect to become fluent in languages, understand the histories of the modern and ancient worlds and the culture of societies in Europe, the Middle East or Russia? Mathematics and science are used in everyday life to analyse intelligence, asses danger and develop solutions. The broader your education, the better equipped you are to assume the identity of a political journalist in say Columbia, or a university lecturer in Moscow. You must realise that training will take place over a number of years and there will be various milestones reached whereby you can explore your own avenues. You will be trained in hand to hand combat skills and martial arts. Volunteer and paid work provides exposure to a variety of industries and different types of people. You can develop technical and engineering skills, first aid, knowledge of drugs and psychology. But you still need an education.'
'So how do you know I'm not gonna tell everyone that I'm gonna be a super spy?'
Hetty gave a short laugh. 'Who do you think will believe you? Your peers will think you're a crazy liar and you have the history to prove them right.'
Callen flashed Hetty a cold look and let out a short breath of resignation. She had him trapped. He really had no choice but to say yes, otherwise he might as well kiss his freedom goodbye. Deep down he knew this was probably the only chance he had to stop his life going down the toilet. Callen scraped his chair back and moved to his feet.
'You think you've got it all worked out don't you? You're the one that's crazy.' He allowed his frustration to show as he raised his voice and walked towards to kitchen door.
'So have you decided or are you going to sleep on it?' Hetty remained calm, thinking that all things considered, Callen's reaction was extremely moderate.
'I'll do your stupid spy thing but me and school - it won't work.'
'We'll make it work, Mr Callen...'
Callen stopped in the doorway and turned back towards Hetty, throwing her a filthy, disbelieving look.
'Crazy...' Luckily the rest of his words were lost as he muttered them and left the room.
Hetty stared after him and shook her head slowly. Callen would be no different to the many other children she had trained . It would be a long and rocky road ahead for both of them, but she had a gut feeling that her latest protégé would make an excellent undercover agent, if he made it that far.
