POISK

Disclaimer: NCISLA characters belong to Shane Brennan. All original characters and this story are mine.

Chapter 25

Callen couldn't sleep, his old insomnia returned. Flashes of his time with Joelle returned with a force. He could hear her laughter as if she was right beside him. He opened his eyes. There was a silvery light over the ocean. The sun hadn't peeped over the horizon as yet, but it would soon enough and the landscape before him would return to the vivid colours he'd seen the day before. He washed his face and stared back at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were slightly bloodshot and puffy.—-evidence of the lack of sleep he'd had. A restlessness wrestled inside of him, he needed to get out and go for a run. What damage could he do if he ran at this early hour? Who would be awake to see him? He pulled on his running gear and left a note for the others. As he stepped out onto the rear deck, Sam stood looking out over the water. He joined him on the sand and waited for his partner to talk.

"I couldn't sleep," Sam stated. "I keep going over moments with Joelle, clues that she wasn't who she said she was."

"Me too." Callen lunged forward, stretching his muscles. Ever since his last minute decision to compete in an ironman without training, he'd set about a good routine in running, swimming and cycling, which he's continued during his time on Vancouver Island. Nell's healthy eating regime had him fitter and healthier than he'd ever been. He wasn't going to punish his body like he had years ago, ever again.

"Going for a run?" Sam raised his brow, looking at his partner's attire.

"Yes." Callen continued his stretching. "My arm's feeling good as new."

"Want your partner to tag along?"

Callen grinned. "That would be good. Like the good old days."

"Except for the pigs n' blanket," Sam chuckled. "I'll get my gear."

Callen continued to stretch out his muscles, especially his calves, while he waited. Sam was beside him stretching in a matter of minutes, before they headed south along the beach. The sand squeaked under the pressure from their footprints as they ran at a steady pace. They were in sync with each other and both men felt good about the freedom to run. They remained silent like the early morning around them. Although the air was warm, they had no sun to fry them, making it bearable.

A woman's voice echoed through the silence over the beach. A man raised his voice in return. Callen and Sam stopped and looked to the south of them. In the dull light, Joelle's red hair shone in the distance. Realising that they were exposed on the beach, they turned and headed back to their house, hoping Joelle hadn't spotted them. They'd run a mile south. They were staying so close to where the Taylor's were, they could walk there.

"Well, that was a successful run," Sam quipped.

"Trouble in paradise," Callen added. "Jo's not happy with her father."

"No." Sam thought for a moment. "We need a plan to arrest them. And I mean now, not later. If they're arguing, they're not going to stay put."

"You're right. Time to wake up Sleeping Beauty."

"Who are you calling a Disney Princess?" Owen Granger padded lightly out onto the deck with a cup of coffee in his hands. It was six in the morning, but all three men were wide awake.

"Glad you're up. You're not going to believe who we found on our early morning run."

"Ariel and King Triton?" Owen sipped on his beverage, taking in the aromas as he inhaled.

"Good one," Sam quipped. "We should do this all the time, come up with names for all of our suspects."

"We do," Callen responded.

"WE do not," Sam argued. "We haven't done anything in five years until recently."

Callen's face became sullen. "At least you knew where we were and could visit us. It's not like we chose to go underground."

Sam realised he'd hurt his partner's feelings. Callen had soften since he'd become a father. Sam had to admit, he liked this version of his partner rather than the lone wolf. "Sorry, G. I didn't mean, it's just that, well, we, you and I haven't been partners for five years. I've missed you, us—-working a case."

"I know. And the first case we get to work on are suspects after my father and Hetty."

"Involving Joelle," Sam added.

Caleb's body tensed at the mention of his ex-girlfriend. "Let's do this." Callen pulled out the map and looked closer at the property where they'd seen the Taylors, trying to disconnect himself from the case. They needed Eric. Callen looked at the time, it would be three in the morning. He hoped the tech wouldn't be snappy at him, but this was important. He switched on the laptop and dialled.

After ringing for a while, he disconnected and called again. Eric finally appeared and looked like Monty on a bad day. His hair was standing on its ends, his glasses slightly askew. "Eric."

"Why are you so bright and cheery?" Eric sat down at the desk, he'd managed to finally switch off and fall asleep before he was rudely awaken.

"It's morning here," Callen advised him. "We've found the Taylors. They're staying in a house just a mile south of us. We need all the specifics of the house, so we can go in unseen and arrest them."

Eric pulled up the property details. "What's the address?"

"We're not sure. We were on the beach when we saw them," Callen admitted."

Eric knitted his brow in concentration. "Okay. Let's do it this way then." He brought up satellite imagery of the houses to the south of where they were. "Which house?"

"The two storey house with the rear deck. It's surrounded by lots of vegetation and has a hut on the beach."

Eric looked at the details. "Got it. Okay. Now I have the address, I can find the owner." He typed away, then he stopped and paused. "That's can't be?"

"Eric?" Sam called through. "What's going on?"

"This can't be right."

"What can't be right?"

"The…um….the owner's name on the house." Eric's mouth was slightly ajar in shock.

"Eric?" Callen pushed.

Eric heaved out a heavy breath.

"Eric," Sam called over the satellite connection. "Who's name is on the property?"

Eric was silent for a moment. "One of our top politicians."

"Which one?"

"The one who no one liked, but somehow manage to almost become president at the last elections."

"Trumbull?"

"Yes."

"Well, well, well. Looks like the rumours of Trumbell being in bed with the Russians was true after all," Callen muttered.

"No kidding." Sam shook his head. "Good thing people voted against him in the end."

"Yeah!" Callen agreed. "Eric, send us the details. We need to move on this now. They were arguing early this morning."

"I'll send it through as soon as I can."

"And see if you can find out about the family. See if there are any ties to the Russians, if the family are who they say they are, or Russian like the Taylors," Callen told him.

"Will do. It will take me a while." Eric disconnected the call and went to work.

Sam looked at his companions. "We need that car now. Not later." He looked for Grace's contact details and handed it over to Callen to dial.

"Grace. It's Stephen Campbell. When can we have the car?"

Grace smiled. Her mother's old friend, Sylvia, had called and asked her to have the car ready early, knowing that her friends would want to explore before it became too hot. "I'll bring it over now."

"Thank you, Grace." Callen placed the phone back down on the dock and looked back at the others. "Grace is coming now with the car."

"Good. Let's hope it drives faster than the golf cart," Granger grumbled.

A slight smirk edged on Callen's lips, imagining Granger galloping about the Cay in the golf cart. It was something he struggled to imagine, although he'd sat next to him on it the day before.

"Smile all you want, Callen. It's bumpy and slow. Painfully slow."

Sam and Callen's smiles broadened. "We get it." Sam added, slightly chuckling.

Owen smiled in return, the banter was a good sign that these agents were good to go to take down Ariel and King Triton. It suited the father-daughter duo perfectly. Now they had to come up with their plan quickly and hope they moved in before they were spotted.

Owen didn't like the plan, but he had to admit, Callen's plan was the best any of them had devised. Callen would arrive from the beach access, Sam in the car, Owen on the golf cart. He'd arrive first and ring the bell as the distraction, to allow Callen to sneak inside the house unseen from the beach. Sam would enter from the side of the property, almost surrounding them from all sides. It was a fortunate thing that the property had a lot of vegetation surrounding the house for cover.

All three men went their separate ways. It didn't take them long to be into position. Owen moved up the driveway and climbed out. He scanned the area, so far there was no signs of any bodyguards. This was good. They had no idea who was with Joelle and her father, or if any of the Russian mercenaries had joined them. He walked up to the front door and rang the bell. He wondered why on such an isolated Cay, there would be the need for a bell. Surely people would pop in from the beach to say hi to friends?

The door opened, Owen wasn't expecting to see the former presidential runner to be standing in the entry. He had a look of impatience about him. "What do you want?" he snapped.

Owen worked hard to suppress the grin that wanted to form. The man was the same in real like that he was on television. He wasn't disappointed. "I've lost my dog. She jumped off my cart outside your property and ran this way."

The reddish blonde hair laid over to one side, hid face contorted as he thought on a response. "Hump! I suppose it's better that you find the bitch than it messing up my place. Go on. But not inside the house."

Owen nodded, pleased to be escaping the narcissistic jerk. He got to work, calling Biscuit. It had been Callen's idea for the name, Sam chuckled,—-obviously there had been an in-house joke between them over the name. But he went along with it. He'd pester them another time on what was so funny. Then again, as he wandered calling for the dog, he realised just how ridiculous he was, calling out for Biscuit. What kind of name was that? He knew that the English called their cookies, biscuit, but for a dog? He shook his head and continued to wander around the garden. He'd seen Sam slip in from the side. Owen didn't want to move too far back, just incase it left the front of the property exposed for their suspects to escape. For now, they wanted Dan and Joelle Taylor. It would only be a matter of time before Eric found something solid to issue an arrest warrant on Trumbull. He hoped Eric was successful.

He heard the rumble of a car in the garage start up. He ran around the front, Dan and Joelle Taylor were inside it. They'd spotted them and knew that they were after them. He fired shots at the vehicle, which came to a halt at the front gate. Sam and Callen ran from inside the house and joined him, their weapons drawn.

"Dan and Joelle Taylor, you are both under arrest." Callen opened the door and pulled the man he knew as Dan Taylor out. "Hello, Dan. Or should I call you Feliks Vasiliev?" Dan wrestled in his hold. Callen pushed him against the vehicle and cuffed him. "Feliks Vasiliev, you are under arrest for conspiring to kidnap a Federal Agent, hunting down families of Federal Agents and for spying within the U.S. borders."

Callen looked over the roof of the vehicle and caught the indignant look in Joelle's eyes. She tried to fight off the cuffs as Owen Granger tied her wrists together. Owen muttered her arrest charges. Sadness filled Callen's heart that she could be this person. He'd hoped that somewhere underneath, that kind person he'd gotten to know, was the real one. But there was no evidence of the old Joelle he'd dated for two years in her eyes. It was if she was a complete stranger. He hauled Dan from off the vehicle, Sam came into the driveway with their hired car.

Dorian Trumbull stormed out of his beach house, demanding answers on what they were doing on his property arresting his house guests. Sam walked forward and stood his ground in front of the man. His face was sour and mean. Nothing changed, Sam concluded. This man was the same as he'd seen on television for years. And some people thought that if he became President, he'd change and be good for the country. Bah! Sam thought. There's no way this man should have reached Presidential candidate in the first place. Not with his reputation and behaviour. He was likened to a spoiled toddler.

"If you don't stand back, Sir, you'll be joining them," Sam warned.

But Trumbull wouldn't shut up. Sam pulled his cell out of his pocket and dialled Hetty. She appeared on his cell on Skype and he showed it to the man before him. "If you have any complaints, you can discuss them with Henrietta Lange."

"My word, Mr Trumbull. You better not be involved in this. My people are searching your background and family as we speak." Hetty shook her head. "Tut, tut. You will allow my people to do their job."

Dorian snarled at Hetty. "You witch."

"Huh!" Hetty chuckled. "Is that the best you can do? I've been called much worse than that."

Sam pulled the cell away from Dorian. "Good day, Sir." He turned around and updated Hetty on their success and that they were coming home.

"Good work, gentlemen. We'll be waiting for you."