An Eye for an Eye

Chapter Seven

There was something soothing about the ritual of brewing a pot of tea. While the kettle boiled Hetty used a small key to open one of the many cupboards in the boat shed. The vintage Ucagco Roses tea set had been in her possession for over twenty years, forming part of a large and constantly growing collection. Surrounding herself with beautiful things helped to camouflage the often ugly nature of her profession. While carrying the tray over to the small kitchen nook she was aware of Kristen watching her. She allowed the silence to continue.

When the kettle was close to boiling Hetty poured a small amount of hot water into the tea-pot and swirled it around. Then she turned her attention to the containers of tea. She hesitated before choosing Chrysanthemum tea for its cleansing and restorative properties. Once she had added the tea to the pot she poured in the water.

"It will be ready in five minutes." She turned quickly, catching Kristen staring at her. She was pleased to note that the young woman didn't back down, displaying a reassuring strength of character. "You're trying to decide whether I can be trusted. I assure you that my only concern is for your son and my agent."

Kristen's scrutiny continued while she considered that assertion. "I believe you."

Hetty sat, feeling the weight of her years. "Tell me about Michael."

A fond smile lit up Kristen's face, temporarily chasing away her fears. "He's loving, mischievous and a real challenge. Once he makes up his mind to do something there's nothing you can do or say to change his mind."

"It must have been hard for him to lose his uncle and Tommy." Hetty kept her thoughts well hidden. Kristen was unaware that her description of her son could equally have been applied to Callen before the rigours of the foster care system forced him to change and adapt to survive.

"He didn't really know Jon. My brother was sent to prison before Michael was born and he'd only been home a few days before he was killed." Tears trickled down her cheeks. "It was worse when Tommy died. How do you explain to a five-year old that his father won't be coming home?"

Hetty took a deep breath before answering. "I don't know." She had never known if anyone had tried to explain to Callen that his mother was dead. By the time she'd tracked him down he'd already been in the orphanage for six months. She could only imagine what it had been like for him to be brought to live among strangers who didn't speak his language. He'd been separated from his sister, the one person who could have provided continuity and comfort, and had been left friendless in a new and terrifying environment. "Do you have a picture of Michael?"

Kristen opened her purse and pulled out a photograph. She looked at it longingly, rubbing her thumb over the image of her son. "This was taken at his birthday party." She leaned over and relinquished it with an air of reluctance.

Hetty couldn't stop the small gasp that rose to her lips. "He looks just like his father did at that age."

"You knew him when he was a boy?" Kristen asked in surprise.

"Yes. He was born in Romania and brought to America when he was slightly younger than Michael is now."

Kristen frowned. "He didn't tell me that. Of course he's never told me the truth about anything." She couldn't hide her bitterness.

"I think you're wrong about that." Hetty stood up and poured tea into the cups. She carried one over to Kristen. "He wasn't lying when he told you he loved you."

"How would you know?" Kristen asked angrily.

"I know Mr. Callen better than he knows himself. He would never lie about that."

"If you know him so well why don't you tell me what he's like? What kind of man uses a woman, lies to her and then disappears without a word?"

"I know how it must look."

"Do you?" Kristen asked in a voice sheathed in ice.

"Mr. Callen is a complicated man. Will you give me a chance to explain?"

"Why should I listen to you? He's had his chance to be honest with me."

"Has he?" Hetty asked shrewdly. "After your brother was killed he came to see you. He was prepared to tell you anything you wanted to know and you sent him away. Not only that, you lied to him about Michael."

Kristen stood up, her body rigid with fury. "You have no right to judge me."

"Sit down, my dear. I'm not trying to judge you but I think you have to accept that there has been deceit on both sides." She had deliberately triggered Kristen's fight or flight reflex. If the younger woman backed down she wouldn't push the matter further.

"He had no place in my son's life." Kristen was unapologetic about her decision.

"Michael is his son too and he is about to surrender to his worst enemy to save him. Despite what he told you this has nothing to do with his job. These people have been at war with his family since his grandfather's time."

Kristen sank back onto the sofa, Hetty's explanation only serving to fuel her ire. "He couldn't even tell me the truth about that?"

"Very few people know the truth. For most of his life he was also kept in the dark. I made that decision and it was the wrong one. I hope to stop him from making the same mistake. If you are willing to listen I'm going to tell you what I know."

"Why?"

"Because he deserves better and I very much hope you will help me to see that he gets it."

"He's the reason my son's been abducted. Why should I care what happens to him?"

"A fair question, although it's hardly his fault Michael was taken. Will you let me explain?"

Kristen looked at her indecisively then nodded. "Alright."

"Thank you. Let us start when he was four years old on the day he was playing on a beach on the Black Sea coast of Romania…the day he saw his mother murdered."

NCISLA

Deeks jerked awake to find his heart thumping and cold sweat prickling his skin. The aftereffects of the nightmare that had pulled him from his uneasy slumber lingered even though the details of his dream were draining from his mind like water through a sieve. For a moment he was disoriented until the rumbling of the engine vibrating through his body reminded him that he was on a transport plane en route to Romania. A quick glance confirmed that Sam and Kensi were both asleep. He checked his watch, groaning quietly when he saw they had another six hours to go.

His feeling of unease refused to evaporate. With a resigned sigh he began to analyse his concerns. The operation was problematic on many levels. That was obvious and not unusual in their line of work. Their inability to function as a cohesive unit was rare. Callen had been deliberately and callously thrown off-balance by the disappearance of his son. To an untrained observer their team leader appeared to be handling it. Deeks knew better. Callen's demeanour at the boat shed had been filled with the telltale signs of stress. Muscle tension made his gait less than fluid; there was a lack of inflection in his voice. Add to that the unaccustomed tautness around the mouth and dullness of the eyes and you had a man who was badly off his game.

Then there was Sam who would walk through fire for his partner without question or complaint. He had the advantage – or disadvantage – of being about to empathize with Callen's emotional turmoil. Would that make him less objective and more prone to error? Hetty was far away and, Deeks suspected, riddled with guilt. Since their last trip to Romania he and Kensi had heard enough to be able to put some of the pieces together. Hetty had been connected in some unspecified way to Callen's mother and her fruitless appeal to the Comescu family on behalf of her senior agent had been born out of desperation. She would sanction whatever action Callen felt was necessary to retrieve Michael.

Callen had been warned to keep his team out of the situation. If Ilena had the resources to find out about Michael it stood to reason she would also know how close-knit they were. Deeks wasn't convinced that she wouldn't have a contingency plan in case Callen disobeyed her. They could be walking into a trap which would leave their friend and colleague alone and vulnerable.

He used his elbow to nudge Kensi. "Kens," he whispered. "You awake?" He nudged her a second time with more force.

"I am now," she grumbled. "What do you want, Deeks?"

"Something about this operation smells funny."

She turned to stare at him, her eyes heavy-lidded with the remnants of sleep. "What are you talking about?"

"What if Ilena Vadim expects Callen to bring us along to help?"

"We've taken every precaution," she replied patiently. "That's why we're traveling in this bone-shaker of a plane."

"I know that." Deeks ran his hand over his mouth while he tried to find a way to articulate his feeling of trepidation. "Just humor me for a minute, okay?"

Something in his voice must have conveyed his seriousness. "Okay."

"Ilena had nothing to do with her family from when she was a young child. It was never made public who was responsible for the deaths of Alexa Comescu and the others. The Director made sure that information was buried so deeply that it would never see the light of day."

"Go on."

"Someone told her about Callen and the rest of us."

"Dracul?"

"That's a possibility. He saw all of us together and must have realized that Hunter wasn't his cousin. Tracking us to Los Angeles wouldn't have been hard. Finding out that we work for NCIS and then finding out enough about Callen's past cases to find Kristen and Michael is beyond impressive."

"She has highly placed sources," Kensi said thoughtfully.

"She does. What if she has informants in the Romanian police? Hetty made contact with their organized crime counter-intelligence unit. Who knows how many people were told about this operation. We could be compromised before we even arrive."

"Or you could just be paranoid," Kensi said, although her voice lacked conviction.

"Maybe," Deeks conceded, "but I'd rather be paranoid than dead."

"Good point. I think it's time to wake Sam."

NCISLA

Sam stepped out of the plane, his heavy bag of equipment securely in hand. He acknowledged the US soldier waiting to greet him before turning his attention to the other man standing at the bottom of the ramp.

"I'm Sam Hanna." He offered his hand, noting the firm handshake.

The man looked to be in his late thirties, just below six feet in height with short brown hair and brown eyes. He was smartly dressed in a dark suit, grey shirt and blue tie. Sam automatically priced the outfit, concluding that it was better quality than expected for a police officer.

"I am Petru Enescu," the officer said in heavily accented English. He stepped to one side to look past Sam at the plane. "I thought there were three of you."

"Change of plan," Sam replied easily. "Something urgent came up in Los Angeles and we couldn't all leave."

"A pity. Come with me. I have a car waiting."

"How much were you told?" Sam asked.

"Only that the son of an American Federal Agent has been abducted by the Comescu family. We know of them, of course. Why they would do this is a mystery I hope you can explain."

They reached Petru's car, a black BMW, and Sam loaded his bag into the trunk. "I'll tell you as much as I can."

"Good. We will talk on our journey. Have you been here before?"

Sam slid into the passenger seat and fastened his seatbelt. "Just once. I mean no offence to you and your country when I tell you I really hope this is the last time."

Petru started the engine. "Tell me what you know about Agent Callen and the Comescu family and then tell me what I can do to help."

Tbc

Caroline

April 2013