Thanks to my betas.

The Price of a Life

Chapter Ten

Vance adjusted Hetty's chair before sitting. Callen continued to watch him suspiciously. "Sit down, Agent Callen." The Director's eyes narrowed when Callen made no move to comply. "That wasn't a request."

After hesitating just long enough to be confrontational Callen sat. His stomach churned and he had to draw on all his training to keep his unease hidden.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better." He maintained eye contact with difficulty. "Why are you really here, Director?"

"I owe you an explanation. The decision to go ahead with the operation was mine. Hetty argued against it. She thought it was too risky."

"She was right." He swallowed to clear the lump in his throat. "Why didn't she fight harder?" he asked softly.

Vance folded his hands on the desk, displaying no hint of unease. "Hetty's first instinct was to protect you. She was willing to put your safety ahead of the operation. That was a sign of weakness I had never expected from her. She threatened to resign until I told her we would go ahead anyway just with a different Operations Manager. She decided she could be of more help to you if she stayed."

"We planned the operation together. She didn't give any hint that she was hiding anything." He still couldn't come to terms with what he saw as a personal betrayal.

"If she had, it would have been treason and I would have had to take action against her. In our line of business we don't have the luxury of sentiment. Taking down Trask and identifying his source was the priority."

He wasn't ready to pursue that line of thought any further yet, although the knot in his stomach loosened with the knowledge that Hetty hadn't acquiesced easily. He moved on to another question that had nagged at him. "Who sold me out?"

"You know I can't tell you that."

Callen stood up, his demeanor clearly signalling his displeasure. Any shred of diplomacy he might have harbored vanished. "Then you've had a wasted trip."

"I'm here to help, despite what you might think." Vance pointed to the chair. "Please."

Callen licked dry lips, his increased heart rate signaling an unreasoning need to escape from a situation he found challenging. It was an alien feeling and one he had grown to hate. He sat down again. "I'm listening."

"The leak came from high up the political ladder. It was motivated by greed."

"One million dollars," Callen said flatly.

"Good to know. We're still following the money trail. You weren't the first and you wouldn't have been the last person betrayed. He will be dealt with."

"How? Pensioned off to his house in the Hamptons?" Callen asked sarcastically.

"He will be ruined, personally and politically and will spend time in jail."

"For murder?"

Vance shook his head. "I know it won't help, but he gave us Trask's location. Without him we'd never have found you."

"You're right. It doesn't help." Callen looked down at his hands which had started to shake and marshaled his thoughts. "Why wasn't I fully briefed?"

"We couldn't risk Trask finding out that we were closing in on his source. Keeping you in the dark ensured that you couldn't inadvertently betray that fact."

"You didn't trust me?" he asked angrily. "I've worked undercover for almost twenty years. Keeping secrets is what I was trained to do."

"No one is immune to torture, Agent Callen."

Callen stared at Vance, shocked speechless by the matter-of-fact tone. Memories, which had lurked just below the surface, arose to sear across his brain. Every time Trask or one of his men touched him it was to inflict pain. At first the drugs had been the worst, stripping away his self-control, twisting his mind and body for the entertainment of his captors. It was the ultimate degradation.

He had tried in vain to defy them while growing weaker and more helpless with every hour that passed. Hunger, dehydration and a mounting fever had shackled him as much as the chains. It had amused them to watch him huddle in fear, never knowing what to expect next. There had been no room for bravado, only mind-numbing terror and nightmares. Once, torn from the darkness and privacy of his prison into blinding sunlight he had been beaten to a new height of agony with a horse whip. Then, one day, there had been the knife, wielded by Trask with sickening efficiency, which made all his earlier suffering appear inconsequential.

All the time Trask had hammered home the message that he had been abandoned and had demanded that he confess to a murder he hadn't committed. Many times he had been close to admitting to it just to make the pain stop. The words had remained stuck in his throat, held there by the sliver of hope that Sam, Hetty and his team wouldn't stop looking for him. He vividly remembered screaming himself hoarse and the sensation of blood clogging his throat and mouth. He began to choke.

"That's enough."

Sam's voice sounded very far away. Callen clung to it, using it as the first unbreakable strand in a rope that he hoped would lead him back from the brink of oblivion.

"This is a private meeting, Agent Hanna."

"He needs five minutes."

Sam's hand rested lightly on his shoulder and, this time, the physical contact was welcome, reminding him that he wasn't alone. He realized that he was sitting hunched forward, his arms wrapped protectively around his body, although he didn't remember moving into that position. He sat up slowly.

"Alright," Vance said sympathetically. "We'll take a break."

"Come on, G. Let's get you some air."

Callen swallowed back the bile that was rising in his throat and nodded. During the short walk to the front door he felt like everyone was watching him. It was an unpleasant sensation. He kept his eyes focussed on the ground in front of him and on each step he was taking. As soon as he got outside he turned to lean his palms and forehead against the wall. It gave an illusion of privacy.

"How did you know?" he asked after a moment.

"You looked like you were going to puke all over Hetty's desk."

"Still watching out for me?"

"Always," Sam stated forcefully.

Gradually Callen calmed enough to be able to turn to face his partner. "Guess I owe you again. D'you think you'll ever get tired of hearing me thank you?"

That provoked a brief smile. "Never." Sam's expression turned serious. "Are you sure you're ready for this, G?"

"I thought I was."

"And?"

The truth came out surprisingly easily. "Now I'm not so sure."

Sam sighed. "Why won't you tell me what's going on?"

"I need time to figure things out and a friend who won't push."

"I don't like this," Sam said, frustrated by Callen's continued evasion.

"Please, just trust me Sam."

"I can't do it, G. Whatever it is you're trying to do isn't working. You've shut everyone out. Do you know what it's like to watch you suffer like this?"

"I don't know what else to do." Callen's voice shook as he finally made that admission. "What the doctors want me to do...I can't Sam."

"Take it easy. I know you don't want to take that shit they've prescribed or to talk to some stranger about what happened. But, you've got to talk to someone." He lowered his voice. "I saw you this morning and it's like you're walking on a knife-edge."

"I can't control it. I've tried and every time I think I've made some progress something reminds me of what happened." Callen could feel a headache building up and rubbed his hand across his forehead. "Coming back here was a bad idea."

"Why? I know you feel I let you down..."

"What?" Callen asked, stunned that Sam could think that. "You pulled me out, Sam."

"It took too long to find you."

For the first time he heard the pain and guilt in his partner's voice. How could he have been so blind and self-absorbed? "Trask was never going to let you find me until he was ready. When he put me on that plane I almost gave up. That's what he wanted. Do you know what kept me going? Even at the lowest point, when I would have done almost anything to make him kill me, I still knew you wouldn't stop looking."

"Then why won't you let me help you?" Sam begged.

"Talking about it won't make it any better."

"How d'you know? You've never tried it."

An unwilling smile touched Callen's lips. "You're a stubborn bastard, aren't you?"

"You'd better believe it."

"I'm not promising anything, but I'll think about it."

"Alright. Now we're getting somewhere."

"I should go back inside. The Director doesn't like being kept waiting."

"If you don't want to go back in I can run interference for you," Sam offered.

"No, it's time I faced up to this." Callen pushed away from the wall. "Just promise me one thing. If it looks like I'm going to punch Vance...stop me."

"Oh, great! I get all the fun jobs."

They parted company inside the building. Sam headed for the bull pen while Callen went to collect a bottle of water from the fridge. He drank deeply, taking his time to consider his next move. Vance still sat at Hetty's desk, working on the computer while Hetty stood close by. When she looked over and saw Callen she said something to Vance before walking away."

Callen waited for her to leave before returning to his chair. "Tell me about Trask's brother." He was relieved that his mind was clearer and that he was feeling more relaxed since talking with Sam.

"He was one of the big players in the drug trade in Eastern Europe. He was vicious and deadly and came to the attention of the DEA when he started to supply heroin to dealers in the U.S. A joint task force was formed, led by a CIA operative with brief to identify the entire supply chain. After an operation lasting more than six months they finally caught a break and managed to turn one of his men. They were given a location and a date. Tupikov was captured and interrogated. They didn't get much out of him before they went too far and rendered him incapable of answering questions. When they received word that some of his friends were looking for him they had to get out quickly. They were in hostile territory and extraction with a comatose prisoner wasn't an option."

"They shot him?"

"According to the official report Tupikov was shot while trying to escape. The truth only came to light later when his body was found. It would have been hard for him to try to escape with two broken legs. By that time the task force had been disbanded and the agents all reassigned to new operations."

"Nothing was done to discipline them?"

"It was too late and, frankly, no one in authority cared enough about the death of a drug dealer to bother."

"His brother cared." Callen took a drink to buy time to think. "Who are you protecting?"

Vance gave a small nod of acknowledgment. "I can see why Hetty thinks so highly of you. The agent in charge of the task force has been working undercover in Afghanistan for the last two years. He's close to bringing down a major Taliban cell. We couldn't risk compromising that operation."

Callen took a moment to consider that. "You were wrong earlier when you said I wouldn't have been found. Trask wanted to kill Sam and any other members of my team that he could get hold of. They'd have been lured into a trap with me as the bait. He was only caught off-guard by the timing of the raid."

"Hetty told me."

"Did she?" Callen stood and leaned forward, resting his hands on the desk. "I'm not happy that you risked my life by withholding information. I can deal with it but if you ever put my team in danger like that again you won't like the consequences."

"Are you threatening me, Agent Callen?"

He gave a cold smile. "You can take it any way you want. I'm not going to sit back and watch anyone dying because of faulty intelligence."

"You've made your point." Vance's tone was frosty. "I expect to receive your full report by the end of the week. There is one thing you need to consider, Agent Callen. Would it have made any difference to the outcome if you had been given all the facts? Think about that very carefully before you judge us."

Tbc

Caroline

November 2012