Chapter 7

~ Turn Back Time ~

Callen woke up on the same couch he had fallen asleep on.
Not that he had planned to do so, but Vlad had insisted he'd stay at this place. And despite the fact that Callen felt that club Mostar was okay, he had a gut feel that something was off when it came to Vlad. Callen still had not heard any last name for this man, but he reckoned Eric and Nell would already know. Staying close to Vlad might shed some light on the whereabouts of this man.

earlier
The night before, Victor Malic had partnered him up with one of the women, called Victoria and she had been simply too tipsy to let her go home alone. So he drove her back, after Malic had told Vlad that 'Yoran' would be around later this night for the warehouse job.

"Boy, you're so lucky, Yoran," Malic had told him earlier. "I could use your company more often, I see. Women seem to love to have you around. It might come in handy one of these days. Those women are—how shall I say, very influential in my business."

He'd simply nodded. The business Victoria and her female friend, Yolande, had been talking about was vague, but Callen considered it as an escort service or something like it.
Not that he was interested, no way. He'd remind Granger once again that it was silly letting him continue this cover-op.
Victoria definitely loved the proposal to be driven home by him. He'd driven his car into the parking garage that went with the apartment she lived in. Much larger, much fancier too, than was to be expected.

"You live here, all alone?" he asked.

Victoria giggled. "Not alone right now, am I?"

Callen sighed and tried to stay as kind as possible. "Listen, I am not interested in you, your friend or your business."

"I get it. It is true," Victoria answered, sighing deeply now as well. "All the nice guys are married, or gay. Tell me, are you?"

He smiled politely. "Nope. Straight and not married. It's just—It is complicated Victoria. It's not you. It's the moment and more. Things I cannot explain and even if I could, I'm sure you wouldn't be interested in either."

He did not have to explain either since suddenly Vlad stood next to him in the same apartment, which puzzled him. It was not what Malic had told him. Had there been some distrust? Did Malic send Vlad over?
"Ready, Yoran? We should move on to the next job," Vlad pressured. "The others are waiting. You can drive with me."

Again, it was the warehouse where Vlad drove them to. Now it was empty, and Callen noticed several men were cleaning it. Others appeared to be building some separating walls within the large hall.
"Building another club in here?" Callen asked the other man.

The answer was as indirect as ever. "You'll find out when the time is right, Yoran. I want you to go back and stay in the car. Make sure we'll have no unexpected visitors."

It had taken three hours to stay awake and aware. In fact, nothing different from daily routine – posting. Without the usual jazz music his partner used to tease him with. This time, he was alone. He looked for a nice station and finally found something with songs from the eighties. No teasing partner, and so he softly sung along with some of the familiar songs that were played.

An easy stakeout this time, since nothing happened. After the hours of waiting, Vlad showed up again and joined him in the passenger seat of his own car. Instead of dropping him at his motel, or driving back to pick up the Mercedes Callen had left in the parking garage, Vlad nearly insisted to stay at his place.
And so, Callen just woke up on the same couch he had fallen asleep on, early as ever and wondering what to do next.
Sneaking out on Vlad would not be possible. Right now, there was no way he could get to the NCIS office unseen. Not without his car around. Not without raising any suspicion.

Callen got up and went to the bathroom for a quick shower, got dressed and headed for the small kitchen. He opened some cupboards until he found everything he needed for making a cup of coffee.
Behind him, he heard some shuffling. Vlad appeared in the same room, still looking very sleepy. His dirty blond hair that nearly reached the man's shoulder, now hung wild and greasy and his eyes looked puffy from what must be an early rise for him Vlad.
As the nights before, Vlad's eyes warily followed every movement Callen made.

"Something wrong?" Callen asked. "It's not that I'm going to shoot you," he added with a grin. "Want some coffee too?"

Vlad kept quiet, until he started talking in his own language. "Kje ste, Yoran? Zakaj je jabolčna te pobral? Ste se kdaj vprašali, da je?" [Where do you come from, Yoran? Why did Malic pick you out of all the others? Have you been wondering about that as well?]

It was a test, definitely. He had never met Vlad before, had he? Yet there seemed to be a lack of confidence. So he simply repeated the things Nell had arranged for his backstopping. "Beograd. Chicago. Tu in tam je nekaj delovnih mest. Slišal kluba in Misja mi je ponudil službo" [Belgrade. Chicago. Some jobs here and there. Heard about this club and Victor told me that Misja offered me this job].
He shrugged and continued in English. "Why?"

"Then tell me - who is Justin Miller? How come Victor tells us Miller sent you in?" Vlad now nearly snarled.
The name did ring some bells to Callen. However, he kept his face unreadable as ever. Winning time and trying to make a solid plan to contact his team, Callen sounded relaxed as he shook his head and told Vlad "Let's hear it from Victor Malic himself this afternoon, okay?"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Sam shot his passenger another glance before he turned his attention to where he was driving. He decided to take the first exit and reduced speed. When he found a quiet street he halted his Challenger. Not changing his posture or pace, he drew his gun and pointed it straight at the younger woman next to him.
"Slowly now", he demanded. "Keep your hands where I can see them, lady."

She hardly flinched, shook her head and cocked it slightly. A half smile appeared on her face as she very quickly had a knife in her hands and played with it close to his face. Teasingly she then answered "That's not serious, is it? What was it you were saying, Sam Hanna, you wanted to see my hands?"

"Why are you-" He stopped half way his sentence only to correct himself "Who are you?"

Although with the knife still close to his face, she flashed him a smile that was both close to shy as to open, well-meant. "Rebecca Belgrave," she answered.

"Who died in Italy, early May 2003."

Her eyes clouded and her smile disappeared immediately. "Thát," was all she said, putting the knife away and looking away from him again.

-"My decision, Hanna. At the time miss Belgrave was not in a position to, how shall I put it, to make any decisions at all." The words came harsh this time. Not in the relatively casual way Granger had addressed Sam lately.
Sam put his gun away, curious if and when Granger or this woman herself would explain what had happened.

-"My fault." Nell responded in a small voice to both Granger as Sam. "It's just that... anomalies like those are supposed to make me, to make us all, suspicious."

Sam let out a deep breath. "Listen Becca, I'm really sorry. You very well understand that in this job of ours we need to stay sharp, and we're all worried about Callen, you see," he explained.

She shrugged and said in a brisk tone "Sure, never mind. Just... Show me where this guy of you is working. Then you, or one of this team of yours and Owen, should get the regular singer of the street so I can go in as a substitute, do my job and that's it."

It sounded so easy and for seconds it seemed she simply had boxed what had just happened, which was too good to be true. And how right he was, because soon after those last words she bit her lower lip and he saw her rubbing her eyes.

"Listen, I told you I'm sorry," he repeated.

Without looking at him she mumbled "It's okay - I'm just tired."
Sam slightly shook his head, looking for the right words he could not find.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

NCIS Office of Special Projects || Los Angeles

"This closet is great."
Becca smiled politely at the petite information analyst who showed her around. Nell's hazel eyes smiled back at her in a shy way, still embarrassed by the fact her announcement of what she found had been so wrong after all.

"Oh, I know," Nell told. "Our boss, Hetty Lange, arranged it. Since this is the office for special projects with many undercover actions, there should be enough things to wear for all the agents walking in and out of here."

The other woman went through the clothes as if she knew what she wanted.
"What exactly are you looking for? Hetty is very protective of all of it. Can I help find you something?"
All of a sudden, Nell realized she was taking over some of the tasks she'd seen Hetty do over all those years.

The other woman nodded. Still dressed in the casual jeans and large hoody it was hard to imagine her in a tight dress like she had just taken two out of the closet. So she was a singer? At least that was what Sam said she had mentioned. And an agent too. 'She probably knows the drill', Nell thought, curious as she was about Granger's guest.
"With dresses like those you'll be needing a clutch, earrings and more. Oh yes, and a listening device of course."

Again, Rebecca simply nodded with a short 'uh-huh'.

It took her nearly half an hour to get redressed for which Rebecca had rejected the assistance of Nell.
Now she was finished with what she did, her black hair was done up with pins, leaving some curly locks loose. With some simple make-up, her brown eyes were now smoky dark with a touch of green. Added to that, red lips which completed a whole different look. Nowhere trashy, pure stylish.
The change was extraordinary, Sam thought as he observed her when she stood in front of the large mirror. Comparable to some of the pictures he'd seen of a young Audrey Hepburn. Where was that 'girl-next-door' he met earlier?
Rebecca was now dressed in a dark green dress which perfectly accentuated her body. It had long sleeves and it covered all decently - in the front. The back of it however was low-cut, and with a split that showed a lot of leg..

"Woow," Sam uttered.
In addition to that Owen Granger smiled appreciative at Rebecca and mentioned "You still know how to do it. A real Transformer, right?"

A sincere smile enlightened her face this time. "Which car would suit a transformed girl need?"

"What-where... You need a ride?" Deeks and Kensi had just walked in. "I'd gladly drive you around."
It cost him a 'don't you dare' glare of his partner. On the other hand, Rebecca smiled gratefully at the blond, blue eyed detective. "Anything if you could share what you've learned of that other singer."

Kensi explained. "Her name's Lori and she's their regular singer. Except for Sundays and when she's ill. In that case, she said, another girl comes around, called Victoria. Lori calls Victoria herself if necessary - there's an agreement they made with the owner of Mostar, Yuri."

"So when I arrive, it's simple. Lori's ill and Victoria couldn't make it," Rebecca understood.

"You paid Lori for this extra night off?" Granger interrupted.

"Yup. She didn't mind at all," Deeks spoke in one of his cheerful moods. "Now, about that driving?"

Granger glared at the liaised detective before he informed Rebecca. "There's a red Toyota waiting in the parking garage. Independent women don't need a driver. Nell has already programmed the route to the club in the car's navigation system. She booked you an apartment in town as well. In fact, you suppose to have lived there for the last year and a half as Sara Bobice."

It was not that he did not trust her. It was just that Sam wanted to make sure he would be at the right place to get the job done and get back in touch with his partner. "So, any ideas to how exactly you will be addressing Callen tonight?"

She tipped her head up to see him in the eyes. "It depends. There will be quite a lot of people around, the singer told your co-workers. I might grab the attention of all the Yorans around by a special song. Having a short break after that and wait if the Yoran you've described, will take the bait. You'll be outside, right?"

Sam nodded. "He'll recognize the car, sure thing. Will be parked near the MacDonald's. He'll recognize that too," he chuckled shortly.

"So… when a man, green eyes, rather short buzzed hair, about 5.11 high, early forties, comes toward me and tells me he's called Yoran Krajic, I can address him as Callen. And tell him Sam's outside because he should get out of the place. Should work, shouldn't it?" She was more serious now.
After another nod of Sam, she looked at him and then said to him and Granger "Ready to go then!"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

St Hills' street – club Mostar || Los Angeles

Callen hummed with the song of the Righteous Brothers he sometimes played in his car when he'd start to work early.
-I've hungered for your touch, A long, lonely time. And time goes by- so slowly, and time can do so much' -

"There's a new load coming in at ten tomorrow morning. We'll need you to be there, Yoran." Victor faced him. Again, Vlad accompanied Victor and continuously watched him, as if he was trying to read his mind. No way Callen let him.
He still wasn't too sure why after these first few days when he was completely left in the dark, although both men appeared to easily switch into the trust mode. Crates again?
"Of course," he agreed. "What are we bringing in?"
He trusted Sam and Nell would be listening with him, again, contrary to last night, to whatever the information he would give. However, the only answer that came was a shrug. "Just be here in time."

He repeated "I will be here at ten."

A jazzy voice, lower than Whitney Houston's original, sounded and it reminded him of how he'd liked something similar, years and years ago.
-'So I'm saving all my love for you'-

Another pivo and it tasted well.

Sade's song - 'Smooth Operator' - was sung. Songs from the past, rather than the modern repertoire. It all fit in this club, as it did with his mood.

"This one is for Yoran," he then heard the singer mention. For a minute, Callen did not realize he might be the Yoran who was addressed. Then he turned to the stage from where the singer performed.

Yoran was a rather usual name - Becca knew. The moment she had mentioned the name, at least three men had looked up. A young man in his twenties, and an older one, about 50 she reckoned, both did not meet the description she was given at the NCIS office.
Her posture stiffened when she quickly scanned the third guy.
It couldn't be.
His hair was cut short, military short now. Not like in the past when he wore his dark blond hair voluminous, nearly wavy. Green eyes – definitely lenses, just like she used right now. An even more than five 'o clock shade which made him look more sturdy.
He looked so… different from back then. But it was him, definitely. Yoran Krajic, aka Agent Callen was Geca, the very same man. Now sitting at a table with someone she very well recognized from years ago.

No moments of recognition, he kept his face perfectly unreadable. For a moment she doubted. Yes, 'this one is for Yoran', she'd said it herself. Now what song would she dedicate to the man whose life she once saved but never met again?
She then quickly decided and chose the recorded music that went with Eric Clapton's song.

-'Would you know my name – if I saw you in heaven
Would it be the same – if I saw you in heaven
I must be strong, and carry on
Cause I know I don't belong – here in heaven.

She managed, not looking straight at him, and what was more important, not to look at the older man he was with. What had Sam told her? A deep cover. A crazy job, how could he?
Not only she had seen Dragomir Pavlovic in this room, Victor Malic was sitting next to him, just as Vlad Rodivac.
Yes, Rebecca decided. Callen had to get out of this room before he got made.
And as soon as she could, she would leave this club too…

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