Boulevard of Broken Dreams
Chapter 9
Author's note: As ever, I'm grateful for the kind reviews, the follows and favorites you left! And you may or may not know that I live far from the City of Angels. I don't work in law enforcement in the United States and most certainly don't have a map of LA in my back pocket either. So if you were to discover any odd facts in a previous chapter or this one, don't hesitate in letting me know.
Disclaimer: all the original characters belong to CBS and Shane Brennan. I just used them for this storyline and try to stick as close as I possibly can to their way of working together. I sure hope there'll be more exciting stories around during the hiatus, and look forward to new adventures the showrunners come up with for our favorite team.
Kni®benrots
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"You sure you don't want me to drive you somewhere else? I mean... all this was just a means of getting out. And it worked." Roundtree reasoned.
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Los Angeles || Odd Fellows cemetery
"One more thing," Callen turned to Roundtree. "Your coat... any chance ehm, that Elisabeth in here can borrow it for let's say the next 24 hours or so?"
"Why not yours?" Roundtree curiously but also lively asked.
"Since mine has bullet holes in it." The answer was crankier than Roundtree deserved and so Callen added "Guess it was considered as a serious enemy. The lady should not catch a cold, right?"
A genuine smile appeared on Roundtree's open face. "Got that. No problemas at all with that, ma'am." He glanced in the rearview mirror, then remembered she was facing the other direction.
They left the Santa Ana Freeway and approached Witthier Avenue. It was the moment Roundtree asked "What do you want me to do now, Callen?"
"Enter the site and park the car next to the other ones. Then help me to help Elisabeth out."
"And after that?"
"Then you leave," Callen simply replied.
"But..." Roundtree was about to ask more, but another look from the senior agent stopped him from asking any further questions. He simply knew too little of how Callen reasoned.
Perhaps Sam was willing to tell him more. The big guy was more like a mentor to the younger agent, whereas Callen kept so much more close the chest. No wonder he'd heard things like the lead agent going 'lone wolf', or the whispers about his job with previous agencies as 'the Ghost' or 'the legend', yet until now he never had a reason to find out why that was.
Roundtree understood Callen's question about using his coat better when he helped Callen to get Elisabeth out of the back of the car. Callen had covered her with his jacket so far, and compared to the temperature inside, it would be far too cold outside indeed. Besides, the woman was released from the hospital under the condition that she got her rest. From what he noticed, she was pale and perhaps nauseous from the drive.
Even Callen appeared to be less energetic than usual when he shrugged into his own jacket.
Roundtree took off his coat and handed it to the woman. "Here you go," he said as he gently helped her in it. It covered her upper body and her hips, hiding the thin two-piece suit that was issued by the hospital.
Once she'd settled in it, she sank down gratefully on one of the benches and closed her eyes, feeling the sun warm her up.
"Thanks, Devin, for helping us out." Callen said. "You'd better go and assist Sam, I'm sure he could use a hand."
"You sure there's nothing —"
Callen just shook his head. "We're gonna be alright. Thanks man."
Roundtree hopped in behind the wheel again and Callen closed the door. Then he tapped it twice, a sign for the young NCIS agent to take off again. A faint headshake to himself when he saw Callen raise his hand as a greet.
Then Callen turned his attention to the woman he helped to get away.
"Can you just wait here for another 10 minutes or so?" He asked as worry crept in his mind for how frail she now looked.
Her voice was strong enough though when she stated "Of course."
He nodded and for a split second he wondered if he should hand her his gun. So far, he hadn't spotted any tails and why would there be any danger in here, right now? So, he doubted. It would made him unarmed himself, which would make him feel too exposed, somehow. Never mind the odd and easily won trust he felt for her, he decided there actually wouldn't be any risk to leave her around. Anyway, it would be a calculated risk they'd have to take.
He sighed and without further explanation he said "I'll be back with you as soon as I can."
She hummed, a sign she heard and understood what Callen said.
He managed to nearly jog to a gravestone no-one would ever link to him, not even his co-workers, Callen was pretty sure about that.
'Alfred and Jean Knoll' both died in 1956 in a car accident and he had not a clue who they were. But after today, he realized, he'd need to find another location. Never again at Odd Fellows, but somewhere else. Right now, he took what he needed and what he'd kept hidden in here for a few months already — two sets of keys.
He put the vase with fake flowers back where he once placed it and hurried to an unseen place behind the bushes, where he'd cut the fences way before, when he'd chosen the location.
The inconspicuous Ford was still in one piece in the parking deck opposite the street. It took a few attempts to start the engine but once it ran, he drove it to the one corner he knew that was left unseen from the camera's.
Elisabeth was where he left her — like a grieving woman on a graveyard.
"We ought to leave now," Callen told her. He was glad she got on her feet herself. He supported her until she sat down in the passenger seat.
"I've been thinking," she said once they were on the way. "You need to know who you're dealing with. And because I don't know your agency and its jurisdiction, you need to carefully decide how to deal with... well, with this situation."
"Go on," he said.
She glanced sideways, unsure how to really explain. "Have you ever heard of the Riviera Maya gang?"
Callen was surprised. "Mexico?"
"In a way, yes. It had an estimated thousand gang members throughout the world. Most of them in Mexico indeed, but also in Europe. And in here, in the States. When you asked about Comescus, I think they're involved too. You see, the leader is Florian Tudor and he's Romanian indeed, with long arms, even in our country. The Mexican authorities will probably grant him political protection measures."
She paused, saw that he still listened and continued. "Some of Tudor's men were arrested in the States. Men who know a lot about Tudor and who claimed to have evidence against him."
"And willing to testify against him?" Callen understood as he asked.
She fell silent for a moment. "Indeed."
He also got an idea of what she might have been through. Things she said and left unsaid, things he'd heard from Sam.
"I once... you know, I work as a US Marshal. Or maybe this is all past tense and I once worked for them."
She hummed instead of shaking her head and Callen asked her how she felt, remembering her injuries.
"It's okay," she said and continued. "My job was to protect people. Nothing more, nothing less. Some of them were innocent citizens who witnessed a crime, some of them members of a jury. And some of them criminals as well."
"Forced or willing to help the government in order to get a reduction of sentence."
She hummed again as a confirmation. "Vasile Lupu was such a person. A too rich, louche business man, with a lot of associates in Romania as well as in Mexico. Still, he lived in here, well, not in Los Angeles but in Phoenix. He was arrested but no-one could prove he was guilty of any crime at that moment. He however agreed to testify against the others, saying he knew things. I.. I just sensed there was something going on and that he was on the wrong side of the law too. But it wasn't my job to investigate. He was under my protection for two days only. Then, I accompanied him to the courtroom. In there, my nightmare started. In there, he was guarded to his place, whereas I was shown a place in the back with the other Marshals."
She stared ahead in a few moments of silence. Moments that Callen didn't want to interrupt.
"They say he died of a heart attack. Which I suppose is true. Still, I think those were the long arms of Tudor's men. There was nothing that could be proven, but Lupu needed to be silenced. Did they poison him? I still don't know. Immediately, their attention turned to me, since I was the last one seen with him, alive. My guess is that he knew things that needed to be kept from public, evidence against the Riviera Gang. I've been thinking. Maybe loose papers, maybe a briefcase with paperwork, a thumb drive or a key to a safe deposit… Since I was the last one seen with him it was assumed I knew about it."
He listened carefully to what she told him. With his experience, he could partly figure out that this was what had made her need to run and hide. That it was the reason she needed to be protected herself, that her identity had to be erased.
She heaved a deep sigh and leaned back a little more in the seat. Without words he noticed how it all bothered her and he shook his head unnoticeable. Leaving the hospital was something they both had agreed to. For her, it probably was all too soon.
"We can talk about this later," he told her.
Instead of agreeing she asked "Where are we heading to?"
"Little Tokyo," he told her. "Nearly there."
Minutes later he was about to drive his car into the garage underneath a not too fancy apartment block when a large SUV with a couple of teenagers cut him off and he cursed aloud.
It made her look up, probably not used to any company showing any emotion like this.
He parked the car and told her to use the cap of the coat she was wearing. He got out and took a backpack from the trunk. He swung it over his shoulder, closed the boot and helped her out. "Let me do the talking, okay?" he suggested.
They walked towards the elevator doors and had to pass a small and all too bright lighted office room in which an older woman was observing how the two of them arrived. "Why, Mister Clark! Aint it good to have you finally back. How's it going in Germany?"
He smiled politely at the older dark skinned woman and replied "Es geht sehr gut, Ma'am. But it's good to be back home indeed."
"Now you stop ma'aming me, young man. It's Regina to you!"
Callen chuckled. "Right, Regina. Listen, this is my little sister, Ellie. She's had a real tough flight. Flying in from Germany is peanuts compared to the bumpy ride she's had from Turkey. She's been teaching at the international college in there, but now here's the thing, she's lost her job and she called me for some good advice. I just picked her up from her flight, though it took me hours after my own arrival. She'll be staying in here till she finds a place for herself."
Two dark brown eyes went over Elisabeth, who really looked exhausted. Then she turned her attention to Callen again and addressed him like a schoolboy, raising her arm and index finger, shook her head and said "Gregg Clark, where is the misses' clothes and all?"
"About that…" he rummaged in his own bag until he found something that felt like a ticket and he held it up high "Her suitcase is on its way, but didn't arrive with the flight Ellie was in."
"Good grief… How will she —"
Callen moved closer and confined with a wink "Regina, we'll be alright. Ellie, well, she's not the first female visitor in town, you know. We'll manage."
"Of course, of course". With that, the woman turned around, opened a drawer and handed a small bundle of mail to him. "Of you go, young man."
"Thanks," he replied.
Elisabeth murmured another. "Thank you."
Once in the elevator, she said "She has a point in there, I have nothing to wear."
"You need to rest, Elisabeth. I'll take care of the rest, okay?"
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Los Angeles || NCIS office of special projects
Devin Roundtree took his coffee from the machine and, with a satisfied sigh, he spooned a creamed milk in it. From behind him he recognized the voices of Deeks and Kensi, and the heavy step of Sam, all three of them coming down from Ops. He turned and rested his back against the wall, trying to catch what they were talking about, but it never made sense anyway.
"Anything new?" He asked nobody in particular.
Sam turned to the younger man. "Hey. Didn't expect you to be back already."
Roundtree nodded. "Just turned in the van."
"And Callen?"
A shrug came as a reply, followed by "Don't know."
"You dropped him off at his place, I suppose?"
Roundtree put his cup on what was known as Kensi's desk and shook his head. "I left them in the cemetery."
"Wait, what?" Deeks picked up his share of the conversation. "The agent in charge is into role playing too, like the tech-twins? Who would've thought that."
Now Sam shook his head. "Cut the crap, Deeks." He then turned to Roundtree again and asked "I don't get it. Why did you leave them?"
Again, Roundtree shrugged. "He insisted."
"Damn." Sam's comment was all he shared so far. He couldn't come up with any reason for his partner to not share his whereabouts, but trusted his friend would soon show up again. Still, he'd ask Eric Beale to try and find out more.
They say it's what you make
I say it's up to fate
It's woven in my soul
I need to let you go
Your eyes, they shine so bright
I want to save their light
I can't escape this now
Unless you show me how
When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It's where my demons hide
It'ss where my demons hide
Don't get too close
It's dark inside
It's where my demons hide
It's where my demons hide
~ Demons – Imagine Dragons ~
TBC