Henrietta Lang had a bad feeling about this latest development. Over her many years of experience she had learnt to listen to her sixth sense, to trust her instinct. The only problem was that with this particular operation she knew that Emily Brandel would have no compunction in killing her cousin, solely for her own personal gain, no matter how unlikely it was that she would benefit from his death. Nate had agreed with her, assessing the woman to have a severe personality disorder, along with narcissistic tendencies, meaning that she would be devious, focused only on her own personal gain and utterly without morals. It was impossible to predict what she would do.

Therefore, Hetty's instructions had been clear and unequivocal: "Find him. Find Mr Deeks and bring him back safely. By whatever means possible." If only that was as easy to do as it was to say. But at least now the gloves were off. She was trying to stay calm and detached about this whole fiasco, but she knew she was not. None of them were. One agent had been deliberately attacked, another was missing without trace. That raised the stakes as high as they could possibly get. If only they could make even the most basic of breaktrhough.

Two hours after Sam had left in an ambulance, Callen and Kensi were no further forward than they had been. Although the park had been full of families enjoying the sunny day, remarkably few of them had noticed what was going on, far less paid enough attention to the participants to be able to provide a half-way decent description.

"Okay, we can't find the rabbit." Callen finally acknowledged their dispiriting lack of progress. "So let's go bring the magician in and see what we can discover."

"You really think it will be that easy?" Kensi asked drearily. She was fighting the ever-present thought that, by the time they found Deeks he would be dead. This kidnapping had all the hallmarks of being one of those missions that was guaranteed to have an unhappy ending. And she couldn't bear the thought that she might never have a chance to say all the things she needed to say, the things he needed to hear. All her hopes and dreams coalesced into one single thought: Let him be alright. Nothing else mattered. And she would do anything to achieve that goal - anything and everything.

"I never said it would be easy. But we've got no choice. And anyway, Emily has given us a pretty good idea where her weak spots lie." He pulled out his cell. "Eric? We need an address for Emily Brandel. And as much background information on her as you can. Concentrate on any vehicles she owns or has access to via her household. Especially those with on-board navigation systems."

"Very sneaky, Callen. You want I should get LAPD to impound them?"

"It's as if you read my mind. They'll know what to look for. Any word on Sam?"

"He's on his way in as we speak. The hospital wanted him to stay in for observation, but that didn't ring his bell. Shall I get him to meet you in the boathouse?"

Callen felt a little of the pressure ease. At least Sam was alright, at least there was one less person he had to worry about. Now, if only he could break Emily, chances were that by this evening he'd be kicking back with a large bottle of scotch, perhaps another bottle of that amazing 25 year old single malt from some small distillery in the Scottish Highlands, so well-aged that it slipped down your throat with an aroma of peat and smoke, leaving just a hint of salt air. And he would raise his glass to Deeks and toast his safe return and they would sit out under the stars and talk about all manner of things. But not the fact that death was an ever-present companion that walked alongside them every day of their lives. You didn't talk about that. It was bad luck.

And if things didn't go well? No, Callen refused to think of the alternative. There would be a time for that hereafter. That day would come, as it had dawned so many times before. How many good men and women had he drunk a posthumous toast too? Their number was legion, and while their names and deeds might forever be unknown to the general public, Callen remembered them. Every single night of his life he remembered them and wondered how long his luck would last, how long it would be before he joined their ranks. But he was not ready to give Deeks up to their number. Not yet. Not by a long shot. Emily Brandel had no idea what she had started, far less what was going to happen to her. Which was probably just as well.

"Just one more thing, Eric. I've got this little job I need some help with. Any chance you could persuade one of the other teams to assist?"

"For Deeks? No problem. They've all been asking how they can help. I'll probably have to fight off volunteers." By the time Eric ended the call he began, for the first time that day, to feel that there was just a chance that things might not end up in a total disaster.