Chapter 7

The last time Sam and Callen encountered 'Boris the Russian' he had been exiting the hotel room of a rather curvy blonde. The pair correctly surmised the woman was not his wife and Nell had easily confirmed that Boris' wife was safely residing in a suburb of Moscow, back in the mother country. Before the pair left ops, they requested the 'dynamic duo' try to locate Boris. If he was in one of the properties owned by the Russian consulate then their job would become rather difficult as technically it was classed as foreign soil, albeit in America. Luckily, further intelligence received from Eric confirmed that he was once again holed up with a lady friend in a different hotel, this time in Beverly Hills.

"D'ya think this guy is ever at the Russian consulate?" Callen asked Sam as the Challenger pulled in to the hotel entrance.

Sam switched off the engine and exited the car. "Rarely," Sam replied, flashing his NCIS badge at the valet and keeping his keys tightly in his fist. For some reason today he did not fancy trusting his Challenger to valet parking, especially when the valet looked about twelve.

"Hmm maybe I should have a career change. Embrace my Russian roots, work in the consulate office and do nothing all day," Callen said to rile Sam, knowing exactly what the comeback would be.

"You already do nothing so I don't see how a career change will make any difference." Sam replied with a smile.

Callen glanced at Sam and shook his head slightly, thinking how predictable Sam was and then smiled to himself, realising how predictable he had been to have made that comment in the first place. Their partnership was based on the banter that now came naturally to them, but it had started off as barbed comments traded between the pair, a number of years ago now.

The two men walked briskly through the hotel entrance, barely acknowledging the bell hops and dodging to avoid several men in business suits who were not about to move out of the way for two men who clearly were not part of the clientele. Callen and Sam approached the reception desk and flashed their badges. Sam grabbed his cell and asked the receptionist if she recognised Boris Kozlov from his name and photo.

"Eer yes, I know Mr Kozlov, he frequently reserves rooms here. Let me check where he is today," the receptionist tapped at her keyboard. "He's in room 101 and the key card is currently checked out to him. Is he in any trouble?"

Sam interpreted the question as, 'would there be any trouble'.

"No ma'am, we just need to ask him a few questions and then we'll be gone," Sam beamed at the receptionist who smiled back, reassured by the honesty she perceived in Sam's demeanour.

Sam and Callen made their way to the first floor via the broad staircase and quickly found the right room. Callen raised his hand to rap on the door when Eric spoke hurriedly into the earwigs.

"Sorry to interrupt guys, but Sam I thought you might like to know this. There seems to be some trouble with the valet, the Challenger and someone trying to claim it as their own. You'd better get down there quick."

A look of frustration and anger flashed through Sam's eyes. He was torn between backing up his partner and protecting his beloved car.

"You good here?" Sam asked Callen hesitantly, subconsciously edging away from the door so Callen had no choice but to let him leave.

"Yeah, go. I can handle this," Callen reassured Sam, sending him on his way. He watched as Sam turned the corner and disappeared from view. "Room service," Callen knocked and waited patiently, gun ready in his hand.

The door was answered by a curvy, thirty something brunette, wearing nothing but a white bath sheet wrapped around her body. Her eyes opened wide in shock as Callen waved a gun in front of her face. She registered the determined face of man who meant trouble and looked like he would have no qualms in causing it.

"Stay here and call for Boris to come to the door," Callen ordered, placing one foot inside the doorway so the woman could not close it on him.

"Boris..." she called calmly, her eyes remained fixed on Callen as she turned her head slightly towards the room.

Callen heard grumblings inside the room and seconds later Boris appeared at the door, clad in a dressing gown. He stared at Callen in despise as he recognised the agent from the two incidents earlier in the year.

"You again, who are you?" His voice dripped with contempt.

"See I really should get a job with the Russian consulate," Callen responded, ignoring Boris' question. "I could laze around all day with beautiful women and get paid for it – oh, unless you're paying her to laze around with you..." Callen opened his eyes wider in fake realisation.

Boris edged his 'lady friend' out of the way, motioning with his head for her to retreat into the room. "What do you want?"

Callen holstered his gun and reached into his back pocket, retrieving his cell. "Where's this man?" Callen showed Boris a picture of Kyle Mason on his cell.

"I do not know, you lose him?" Boris said with a snort of derision.

"What about him? What do you know of him?" Callen now showed a photo of Peter Rogers. He carefully observed the Russian's facial expressions and witnessed the slight narrowing of eyes, a tell tale sign that Boris had recognised Rogers.

"I have never seen him before, now excuse me," Boris attempted to close the door on Callen.

Callen placed a hand on the door and moved forward slightly. "Oh you've seen him before, and I bet you know where Mason is being held. You need to be careful my friend. I would hate for your lovely wife to discover how many prostitutes you party with while she's back in Moscow, keeping house for you and your three children."

Boris took a step forward and then turned back towards the room to make sure his 'lady friend' was not within earshot, and lowered his voice. "You do not know me, now leave before I call the police,"

Callen reached into his jacket pocket and pulled free a brown envelope. He silently handed it to Boris who hesitantly opened it.

"What is this?" He asked.

"Photos of you with Lolita, Anastasia, Luscious, Jezebel – such original names – do you think they get to chose their porn star names? And the last one, you may not recognise her but that's your wife Svetlana with your children. Y'know, just in case you've forgotten what they look like."

Boris shook his head and stared at Callen in disgust. "What do you want?"

"Information on where Mason is and who was handling Rogers,"

"Wait," Boris retreated in to his room, leaving Callen in the door way.

Callen glanced up and down the hallway. No one was about and he wondered why Sam was taking so long. He cautiously pulled his weapon again. He was about to open the door wider to make sure Boris was not attempting to escape out of the window, when he returned with his wallet and some papers.

"I give you $500 cash now," Boris counted out the bills from his wallet and tried to press them into Callen's hand.

"I don't want your money, I want you to tell me where Mason is and who Rogers was reporting to," Callen pulled away slightly, again glancing down the hallway.

"Take it and burn the photos," Boris insisted, again pushing the notes into Callen's hand. On top of the bills was a hand written note with an address on it. "And don't come back."

With a swift movement which took Callen by surprise, Boris shoved him backwards and slammed the door. Callen stumbled and stood still for a moment, staring at the door Boris had closed in his face. He then turned his attention to the money and note in his hand.

Damn, Callen thought. He quickly removed the note and stuffed it in to his jeans pocket. He had to return the money to Boris but knew he would not open the door again. Kneeling down, he slid the notes under the door and back in to the hotel room. It took several minutes for him to push them all through the tight gap between the carpet and the bottom of the door.

"What'ya doing?" Sam's voice echoed down the hallway.

"Long story, what happened to you?" Callen got back to his feet and walked towards Sam.

"Long story," Sam replied. "But the short version is some clowns tried to steal my car, LAPD turned up and I had to get Hetty to verify I was a Federal Agent even though I had my badge. For some reason they thought I was one of the thieves."

"Well I can see their point. I mean you do look rather shifty," Callen and Sam walked side by side down the stair case to the entrance.

"Yeah right. What d'ya get outta Boris?"

"An address where Mason might be held," Callen said. "I gave him the envelope with the photos and he tried to buy his way out. Offered me $500 to leave him alone."

"Cheap bastard," Sam said, smiling.

"That's what I thought so I gave the money back,"

"Glad to know it takes more than a few hundred bucks to corrupt you," Sam said.

Callen gave a tight smile back to Sam, but he was worried. Sure he'd been offered bribes before and had only ever accepted the odd few that had been for the greater good, the types of bribes which maintained his cover and had enabled him to turn the tables on the bad guys. And the money was always declared and returned to the US Government as part of the operational debrief. Something had seemed a bit off this time but Callen couldn't quite put his finger on what was wrong.

"You good?" Sam asked, unlocking the car door and pausing as he opened it, observing his partner's unease.

"Yeah," Callen replied, easing himself into the passenger seat.

Sam looked over at his partner. Something was clearly worrying him but Callen being Callen was not going to talk about it. Well, not at the moment. Before Hetty had even had her one to one chat with the lead agent, she had taken Sam to one side to check that all was well in their working relationship. Admittedly, prior to the Russian trip, after Callen had questioned Sam's tactics during an operation he'd observed from Ops, Sam had been ready to rip him limb from limb. The partners had cleared the air between them before Callen had left, and Callen uncharacteristically made the first move, but Hetty's subsequent words had left Sam feeling more than a little apprehensive. Hetty had asked Sam to be especially cautious of all people and situations Callen encountered in case Janvier was still up to his games from prison.

"So where we headed," Sam asked, turning the key in the ignition and firing up the powerful engine.

"Back to Ops. I'll let Kensi and Deeks know. We'll need more info on the address Boris gave us before going tactical. According to our friend, Mason is at Unit b, at Westside Industrial Park, San Pedro,"

"You trust him?" Sam glanced at Callen as he pulled out into the busy flow of traffic. His question was met with raised eyebrows. "Yeah I know, stupid question."

"It's the only lead we have so we need to check it out properly," Callen answered.

"What about Arkady?"

"Arkady will have to wait," Callen said.

The trip back to the Mission took place in relative silence. Callen pondered over his encounter with Boris Kozlov and replayed the conversation over and over in his mind. There was nothing at all that was out of the ordinary. Boris was pissed that once again an unidentified American was asking awkward questions and Callen had then attempted to blackmail him. Boris had countered by trying to bribe him, but Callen had won through in the end and had secured an address and fed the notes back under the door. Admittedly that was a little weird but a little weirdness was almost standard in their line of work. Maybe he could have Eric trace all recent calls to and from Boris, he thought. Yes, that would settle his mind a bit. Callen relaxed and enjoyed the ride as Sam weaved in and out of the Los Angeles traffic and returned them to the Ops centre.


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