Author's Note: Look! A micro-chapter… better than nothing, though, right? :-)
PART ONE: CALLEN
Chapter Eight: The Best Laid Plans...
Oh, God help him.
Nell Jones made small, mewling-like cries, her breath coming in strained wheezes as Callen felt the relatively rigid cartilage of her trachea compress beneath his palm. Sloan, along with as many of the others that could squeeze into the small 'office', accompanied him for the second interrogation of the cute girl captive. There was no way to fake the violence this time, not with half a dozen gazes locked on him and the young woman.
She'd stuck with the original cover, when Callen had come in and asked her 'for the last time' to tell the truth, giving her the minutest shake of his head in the negative. And so, Sloan had ordered him to press her harder. He'd hesitated, as much for the ploy he was attempting to con the anarchist with, as for the fact that the last thing he wanted to do was to hurt Nell. But Sloan had insisted. And the sooner Callen complied, the sooner they could get the hell out of there... if his loose, highly dubious plan actually worked.
"The truth, Kristi," he said firmly, releasing the pressure of his hand on Nell's vulnerable throat. She coughed, a wet, hacking sound followed by a large gasp as she sucked in air once more. He'd choked her so severely that she'd begun to squirm, kicking her feet out and making him step to the side of the chair as he continued to constrict her airway, which had only made her struggle harder. It spoke much to Nell's fortitude that she did not tug the knot loose that bound her wrists in the panic for air, to claw desperately at the hand squeezing her throat.
"I'm telling you the truth." Her voice was raspy, damaged from being choked and hoarse from sobbing and crying. Her face was wet with fresh tears. "Please. Just stop. Please."
Callen looked back at Sloan, raising an eyebrow in question. The sociopath nodded, so he rose to his feet to confer with him in low tones that were inaudible above the noise of Nell's labored breathing.
"I think she's on the level," Callen whispered. "We should just let her go."
"Agreed," Sloan said. "But we won't be letting her run off to report being kidnapped and assaulted."
Callen swallowed, nodding as if in reluctant acceptance of the man's decision, a look of disgust on his face. And Sloan took the bait.
"And you're going to take care of her."
"I'd rather not," Callen said, doing a happy dance inside of his head. He just knew the man wouldn't be able to resist pushing Jack Corley, testing his resolve and comittment to the anarchists' cause.
"If you want her to have a humane death, I'd suggest you accept the task I've given you," Sloan said. The threat wasn't a direct one. Sloan himself would be efficient and cold about killing the young woman. The threat was in the fact that the older man would simply hand off the job to one of the more sadistic, insane members of their merry little band of psychopaths.
"Fine," Callen said. "I'll do it. When?"
"The sooner, the better." Sloan turned his attention to the rest of the group, his voice gaining that commanding edge that did far more for his being heard than any amount of shouting would've done for any other person. "Show's over, boys. You all have work to do. Get back to it."
They dispersed with a couple of grumbles, filing out of the small room.
"Stay a minute, Little John," Sloan said as the big man brushed by Callen with more than a little aggression in the action.
"What do you want, boss?" The giant of a man asked.
"I want you to assist -mind you, I say assist- Jack in disposing of Bird Girl here." Sloan stared down the man who was over a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than he. And did so successfully. "You're only to help him clean up. Understood?"
"Yes." The reply was more grumble than recognizable speech, but the submissive tone was response enough apparently to satisfy Sloan.
"Good." Sloan turned towards Callen, drawing Nell's Glock from the waistband at the small of his back and handing it over to the undercover federal agent. "Take her out back."
Shit. Shit. Shit.
He and Nell would be walking out of the hangar together. But the worst bastard Callen had ever meant would be going with them.
A/N: More soon… possibly… (depending on Halloween fun!)
