Chapter 6
Boulevard of Broken Dreams
Author's note: believe it or not: I like to write this story. And it is about to end, really, it is. After this one there'll be only one more left.
To me, it is as if there are less readers than ever, so I think I'd better take a writing break once this story is finished.
o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)
Los Angeles || Alhambra Hospital
'How to address someone you don't know?' The thought occurred to him when he closed the door behind him. Too loud, deliberately. Callen felt guilty to have to wake her this way.
She looked up, groggy and perhaps a bit irritated.
"I'm sorry," he said, "but there are some things we need to know. So I want you to answer some questions".
"Did you find Poliakoff?" Her question came.
Callen sent her a smile. "Yes. She's agreed to meet with my team members and tell us her side of the story."
Although it was the plain truth, he read the disappointment in her eyes.
"You're doubting if I told you the truth," she concluded.
He shook his head. "That's not what I said. It's more that we know so little. For instance, why was she willing to kill — he checked the name she'd mentioned before — Andreas Marcus?"
For a second she squeezed her eyes shut, then she faced him again and counterquestioned. "So you found him?"
"My team is at the address right now and the coroner just left. But please tell me, what is your opinion, why did she do this?"
Elisabeth breathed in deep, then her reply came "What does she say?"
"Stop the counterquestions, please," Callen sighed. He recognized how she did that and he knew all too well he'd do the same if he was stalling anybody who kept questioning him. The technique was well known in training programs of the agencies he knew.
"It would help us all if we know what happened in there, at the Mayflower address, and why. Earlier you mentioned that Marcus was more or less trapped and got killed. You were shot but managed to get away. Again, why? I mean, Poliakoff is your superior."
A soft sigh came his way followed with her answer. "She is Marcus'. I... not mine, actually."
"Again, why? What do we miss... who are you?"
Callen noticed she was struggling inwardly and he decided to continue "You said this Marcus was your partner. Were you romantically involved as partners?"
He observed her and noticed how she blushed. Again, Callen nearly felt he crossed a line. Was it because she looked so vulnerable and he didn't want to hurt her?
"Elisabeth, that place is a safe house. Now, who else was living there with Marcus?"
"No one." There was the slightest shrug and she went on "Me. I've lived there for about five months, so far. My real name is nót Elisabeth Sharden but Sullivan and I grew up and lived in Houston. Then I moved to Phoenix. And I ám a US Marshal."
"But when you are partners..." Callen started. But heck, he figured that he didn't need to know more about any possible love life of this woman and a dead man. He shook his head and instead asked "Why, tell me, had Poliakoff killed her own personnel?"
He got up on his feet and chose to lean against a low closet instead. Her green eyes were fixed on his blues and he read many emotions. Doubt, perhaps even fear.
Then, in a soft voice, she said "Do you understand what I'm saying, agent Callen? I'm not supposed to tell what I just told you. They changed my name. I'm in witness protection in here. I was moved from Phoenix to LA. Andreas was doing his job, protecting. He was working as a witness protector, which was what I used to do too, in Arizona."
It took him a second or so to let her words sink in.
"So Marcus never was the target. You were," he understood. He shook his head. "Who's after you, masterminding this, if it isn't Poliakoff?"
She shook her head. "You don't want to know. They're from Mexico, or actually, they live in there, I suppose. I didn't recognize any of them. Not those who came with Poliakoff nor those who were after me. All I know is —" she licked her dry lips and looked away from him then continued ""Listen, I need to get out of here. Can you help me?"
Callen nodded. "I think we're all helping already, still, it may be too early for you to leave hospital." He paused a second or so. "But if Poliakoff had the chance to talk to anyone on her way..."
He took his phone, suddenly feeling an urge which she probably already felt. "Eric, how're Deeks and Kensi doing?"
He knew Eric and Fatima as well were checking the cams in the boatshed.
"Ehm... I wouldn't say she's showing any interest. It's more a 'how to act polite' conversation in there. I think she'll demand to leave any time soon and since there's no real evidence available, only an accusation from this Elisabeth. Never mind, I'll have Nell make some kind of arrangement Callen."
Fatima was the one who replied. He knew she was a very sharp observer, though also great in the field. If Nell would be back at Ops, partnering Fatima and Roundtree in the near future would make another couple that absolutely fit the A-team Hetty once created.
"See if she made any phone calls and let me know asap," he said.
He was about to hang up when Eric exclaimed 'Holy cow and sweet mother Mary! Callen, my system found those men of the motorcycles. They're there, so get the hell away!"
"How many?"
"Two at least, probably more. Callen, they'll be there in less than five minutes. We'll alert the others."
She must've caught some of the message or the urge of the intonation in the voices.
Callen knew he had little time, yet he had to improvise, plan and act at the same time. Eric's advice sounded simple, but there weren't many options at all. "You trust me?"
She nodded.
"There's no choice. Come here, put that good arm around my neck."
It all went too slow in his opinion but he managed to carry her away, not really having the time to mind the IV-tubing or the hideous gown and all the skin his hands touched.
"The nurses station," he panted.
It seemed to take minutes but he was aware that had to do with the sudden rush of effort. He sat her down at the floor.
"Get down, stay down. Find something warm for her and keep her alive," he snapped to the nurse who watched it all without understanding what she saw.
He snatched a white coat from a hanger and quickly put it on. It didn't really fit but it was all he had.
He hurried back to the room. The IV-pole, the tubes, his coat… He gathered it all, threw it on the bed and covered it all as good as he possibly could with the comforter. One sleeve of his coat slightly visible on the pillow, as if someone lay in the bed. Then he took his gun and studied the small medical monitor. Not that had been connected to any of the systems patient Jane Doe had been connected to, but he needed to think on his feet right now.
He estimated that once the ones stepped out of the elevator, there'd be about 15 rooms to pass on his side. Who-ever came his way, they came fast. In seconds, he hurried to a room opposite of room 3.32.
From where he stood, he noticed how the three men approached who had no doubt whatsoever for where they were headed to. Darkhaired men, dressed like an army of three, though not in a uniform. It made him wondering if there was a fourth person waiting for them nearby, perhaps outside. There was no time to ask Eric or Fatima, or to alert Sam and Roundtree. He had to trust his team and to rely on his own experience and gut feeling. He noticed how two of the three men pulled their guns out in the open when they were nearly in front of the room in which Elisabeth Sharden was supposed to be staying. Guns with silencers. Each fully loaded. So was his, but all-in all he had only third of the rounds they had.
Callen deeply inhaled and slowly let the air escape through his nose.
Somehow he surprised himself with the improvising and immediate action he took.
In only a few steps he was only a matter of a second later where he needed to be. A nobody, but perhaps a collateral passing-by hospital worker with a wheelchair. His trained ear heard the shot which he knew ending up in a heap of fabric on the hospital bed.
He let the wheelchair hit the third man's calf who stood, big mistake, with his back to the corridor, blocking the entrance door. The guy stumbled backwards into the wheelchair whereas Callen shouted the short sentence he always did 'Federal Agents, drop your weapons'.
He had his own weapon aimed at the man who was closest to him. Another big mistake of his opponent was that, without really concentrating on his position, simply shot in his direction. The first bullet must have been a lethal one already and the second grazed the head of the man's fellow. He felt an explosive thump of what he figured was the handle of the wheelchair in his side, simply because the center mass of the guy fell back in it.
Callen still never hesitated to fire his own gun four times. The first bullet killed the man who just killed his own partner. With the second and third shot he hit the third man's wrist and knee, disarming him with that way. The fourth shot deliberately hit the small monitor above the bed, which caused a wailing alarm. The shrill sound would alert others too, he was all too aware of that.
Shootings in a hospital should never happen, he knew that. He kicked away the guns of all the three men and counted the moments help would come in.
He stood close to the wounded man who groaned in pain.
"Why are you after her?" Callen demanded.
The dark eyes of the man glared at him. He shook his head.
"Why?" he angrily repeated.
"Du-te dracu!" came as a grunted reply.
"Ah… What's that?" For a single second he wasn't sure if he really heard 'go to hell' in a language he knew - Romanian.
Another low curse came his way. "Futu-ți pizda mă-tii!" [F.. You]
Staggered, Callen shook his head. He swallowed and his lips tightened. His eyes squinted as he snarled "Cine ești tu? Cine te-a trimis?" [Who are you? Who sent you?]
There was no reply but a huff. Then the guy simply spit his way.
All of a sudden, Callen felt terribly exhausted. He slowly stepped back and sank back on his heels against the wall.
He even managed to ignore the sounds on the corridor, the rush of people coming his way. He even wasn't aware of how the alarm finally was shut down.
"You! Drop your gun!"
Callen looked up and around when he heard the order, then finally realized it was meant for him. He recognized the head of security of the hospital, the same guy who had guided him to the room, earlier that day. He never realized he still held his gun, and he slowly released it.
He read the disgust in the eyes of the other man and he slowly breathed out, knowing what it looked like, with the mess of blood, brain tissue and more blood from the ones Callen shot only moments before. "The patient is safe," he said.
The nurse that had looked after Elisabeth, Maxime, exclaimed an 'Ah!' in terror when she noticed two dead men and another writhing in pain, and glared his way. This was not what nurses or doctors experienced in their inner walls and it was clear she blamed him for doing this.
The deep voice saying 'G!' was more welcoming, although, when he looked up at Sam's dark eyes, he knew that even his partner was startled by what he saw.
He got up on his feet, too fast he figured since he felt faint doing so.
"Damn, G. Look at this mess." He noticed how his friend's gaze went from the three men in the room back to Callen, shaking his head in unbelief.
He wanted to explain. About her, about how these men shot each other, but it was like was swaying on his feet and he cursed when he actually realized he was bleeding too.
His own voice was ever so soft when he said "Must be just a graze."
TBC,
Thank you for reading. As ever, feel free to review.
Kni®benrots