Crosshairs

Chapter 5

"Sam?!" Callen shouted over the roof of the car to where his partner had fallen. He had his weapon out and was scanning the surroundings before moving to drag Sam out of the line of fire.

"Just a flesh wound," Sam called back, "go get the bastard!"

Usually, Callen wouldn't leave his partner behind, but in this case, he didn't have much of a choice. If this attack was similarly planned as the attacks during the raid, he wouldn't have much time to chase their attacker down. And they needed a lead badly so that they could get Nell and Deeks the antidote… and Sam as well now.

He once more scanned the area and saw someone running off. Pushing off to give chase, Callen tapped his earwig. "Eric, I need an ambulance at the boatshed. Sam's been shot. Send out Nolan so he can take care of Sam. I have a visual on a suspect."

"Copy that. Checking the cameras now," Eric spoke up, the clicking of keys audible in the background while he relayed Callen's demand to the agent inside of the boatshed. Callen tuned him out, his eyes set on the person running ahead of him. He had a head start, but Callen had a lot of anger and frustration to burn off.

When the shooter headed down the docks several slips away from the boatshed, he briefly wondered if the man had miscalculated and slipped up by backing himself into a corner, but then he heard an engine being revved and he cursed under his breath while reaching down deep into his energy reserves and lengthening his stride before careening to the left several slips earlier than the shooter had turned. All of the docks were dead ends, so if he had a boat waiting for him, he would have to get past Callen to reach the open water.

"Eric, inform the Coast Guard. He's got a boat waiting for him. I'm trying to head him off at the pass," he ordered, seeing a Jet Ski with two people coming from the right side. He raised his weapon and started firing even while he was running, "it's a Jet Ski, Eric," he shouted, skidding to a stop at the railing. One of his shots hit its mark, the Jet Ski operator hunching over and leaning precariously to the side. The man in the back reached around the other to take control of the vehicle. It gave Callen time to take a more careful aim and he fired several shots at the engine, listening in satisfaction as it sputtered and died.

The man in the back pounded a fist on the handle in frustration before turning towards Callen. Their gazes connected and Callen narrowed his eyes, his weapon raised. "Don't even think about it," he shouted, "hands up where I can see them," knowing it was futile before the words left his mouth. The shooter reached for his gun and when he brought it up, Callen fired once, hitting the man in the arm. He didn't want their only current lead to commit suicide by cop. He needed that man alive for them to question. As long as he had options, he wouldn't put a bullet into the man's brain or his heart - or anywhere vital that would lead to a prolonged surgery.

"Coast Guard speed boat coming your way," Eric told him and only moments later he could hear the sound of a powerful engine. The vessel slowed down considerably and he was ordered to drop his weapon.

"Federal agent," he shouted back, keeping his gun pointed at the man on the Jet Ski, "arrest the suspect." There was a brief pause before the vessel glided closer to the Jet Ski. At the same time, several cars screeched to a stop on the dock behind him before multiple pairs of feet ran his way. Callen inwardly sighed when he knew what was coming, internally acknowledging that the Coast Guard officers were naturally cautious. He could understand their need to make certain he was who he said he was.

When the voices shouted for him to drop his weapon, he repeated his demand, still not lowering his weapon. The Coast Guard vessel had yet to approach the Jet Ski and he knew it was a critical moment. If he dropped his weapon too early, the shooter might have a go at getting another shot off.

Two persons approached from behind.

"I'm a federal agent. Identification is in my left back pocket. Our technical operator Eric Beale asked you to assist us on my order. That man has shot at least one federal agent just five minutes ago and probably several others before. He tried to resist his arrest," he said without turning. His gaze was locked on that of the attacker and he was certain if he took his eyes off him, the man would try something. There was a gleam in his eyes that let Callen know he was still calculating ways for him to get away.

"Lower your weapon. We've got your suspect covered from the vessel," a voice shouted behind him.

He loathed the order, wanted to keep his weapon up. Still, they were at a catch-22 right now. As long as Callen had his weapon up, the Coast Guard officers behind him couldn't approach him safely. If he were a criminal, he could make use of that moment to get the drop on them. And the Coast Guard vessel couldn't apprehend the shooter either if he had his weapon pointed in their direction.

He glanced at the men in the vessel, seeing several weapons trained on the shooter. It gave him enough confidence to finally drop his stance.

Callen straightened and raised both his hands, letting his gun dangle from the trigger guard. He kept his eyes on the shooter, though some part of his senses was on the officers behind him. The vessel started approaching the shooter, still cautious in not wanting to get into anyone's line of fire. The gun was taken out of his hand before the Coast Guard officer reached for his badge, taking it out of his pocket. He didn't look behind himself, knowing it would only make the Coast Guard officers more wary if he moved now. A moment later, guns were being secured behind him.

In front of him, on the water, the Coast Guard arrested the shooter.

"Sorry, Agent Callen. Had to make sure," the same voice from before spoke up behind him.

Callen nodded and turned towards the officers, taking his offered gun and badge back. "I know," he replied simply, resisting the urge to vent some of his frustration on the men. "I need that man brought to the boatshed three docks down."

The officers obviously saw something in his expression that had them scrambling to fulfill his wish, forwarding his demand via their radio.

Xxxxxxx

When he got back to the boatshed, there was an ambulance parked out front. Sam was resisting, telling the EMTs they should just patch him up and go on their merry way. It amused and frustrated Callen in equal measures. He approached his partner and Sam glanced up.

"You got him?"

"Coast Guard arrested him. They are bringing him over," Callen nodded firmly.

"Good." Sam made to stand up.

"Where do you think you're going?" Callen hissed.

Sam frowned, "we've got a suspect to interview," he pointed out.

His eyes narrowed and Callen reached for Sam's shoulder, trying to keep him down. "No, I got a suspect to interview with Kensi. You will go to the hospital."

"G…" Sam warned but Callen was having none of it. This whole case had gone sideways in a fucked up way and all the frustration he had pushed down so far coupled with the fear for his teammates rose up in a tidal wave that rushed towards the shore, intent on demolishing everything and anything in its path. He was usually slow to anger, but right now that anger burned brightly. The tidal wave crashed onto the beach, squashing unsuspecting victims beneath.

"No, Sam, you listen to me," Callen shouted, his eyes blazing, "you will go to Cedars and you will work with Steve. Tell him whatever he needs to know about any symptoms. He needs all the information he can get from you that may help all three of you to survive long enough for us to find out just what was on those bullets. So no, you will not be interviewing the suspect and I will not watch all of you succumb to some fu**ing poison."

Callen heaved for breath once the words had rushed out. Sam had watched his partner during his rant, half taken aback and half understanding, and Callen knew he had given a lot of himself away with this outburst. He wasn't the unflappable agent, stoic and resourceful in the worst of circumstances. He was a man frightened for his friends and family. Before he could turn away, Sam stood up on one leg. He reached for him and drew him into a powerful hug that Callen clung to for a moment before pushing away to draw his masks back up and hide behind them. Sam kept a hand on his shoulder and didn't let him escape.

"Keep me in the loop, partner," Sam told him softly.

Callen nodded jerkily and sighed, drawing a hand over his face before stepping back. He turned to the waiting EMTs who had wisely stayed out of their volatile discussion and who were watching him somewhat warily. "Take him over to Cedars. I'm sure you'll be expected already by Dr. Mitchell." With that, he turned and headed towards the boatshed.

"Uhm, Callen?" Eric's voice came over the line and Callen grimaced. He had forgotten the line to Ops that had been kept open ever since Sam had been shot. It seemed that not only Sam had witnessed his second outburst of the day. Brilliant, just brilliant.

"Yes, Eric?" he acknowledged, keeping his voice deliberately even.

"Kensi is on her way to the boatshed. The Coast Guard should arrive with the suspect in a few minutes as well."

Callen entered the boatshed and turned towards the screen where Eric appeared. Their tech looked hassled and worried, his face drawn. "Any news on Nell and Deeks?" he asked softly.

"I just talked to Hetty. She said they were holding their own," Eric replied in an equally quiet voice.

No news was good news, but still…

Callen took a deep breath, trying to settle his mind and regain focus. They were all off their game, but he needed to focus so they could solve this, make sure all of their respective partners survived this. When he glanced up, he knew his masks were mostly back in place - Sam and Hetty would probably see the cracks, but neither of them were here. "Alight, Eric, you know the drill. Run facial rec as soon as the suspect walks through the door and find out anything about him that you can. I want to know his favorite meal and his preferred beverage. If he ever stepped onto his neighbor's cat's tail, I want to know when that was and with which foot. Do the same for the dead Jet Ski driver as soon as you get the crime scene photos. Check where the Jet Ski came from. And so on."

Eric straightened, obviously reacting to Callen's in-charge-persona and snapping to attention. He affirmed the command with a short "copy that," before signing off. The tech's eyes were clearer though, more focused now that he had a new purpose and a task to work on. It would keep him busy for a while.

Xxxxxxx

Usually he liked to let their suspects stew for a while before he had a go at them, but today, he didn't have that luxury, so Callen marched into the interrogation room the moment the shooter was settled.

He threw the door closed behind him and slapped a notepad down in front of the man. "Name," he growled.

The shooter looked up with a grin, "Stevie Wonder."

"Not yours, idiot," Callen spat, "I don't care one iota about you. I want the name of whatever poison you put on the bullets."

The man leaned back in his chair with a self satisfied smile. "What poison?"

He knew the man was goading him and Callen held onto his control by his fingertips, merely glaring at the man.

"I suspect they aren't doing well, are they?" the man needled.

Callen sat down opposite to him, deciding to keep the table between them for the moment to still the itching he had to just let loose on the man. He needed to wrest control away from the guy, "your partner isn't either," he shrugged nonchalantly, fixing his masks in place and preparing himself for a battle of wills and a lot of mind games ahead. They were both taking each other's measure and so far, Callen felt he didn't muster up… then again, a lot of people had paid the price for underestimating him.

Xxxxxxx

They had traded quips and meaningless words between them, Kensi had a go at him and they had tag-teamed him. So far, they hadn't gotten anything from their shooter. Neither had Eric, trying to scour every available - and unavailable - database for him.

Callen once more resisted the urge to kick something while he watched Kensi have another go at the man.

His cell phone rang and Callen glanced at the display, paling slightly when Hetty's name was displayed. "Yeah?" he said in greeting.

"Anything, Mr. Callen?" his mentor asked and he could hear the urgency in her tone.

"Not yet," he muttered, somehow feeling frustrated and ashamed both at not having made any headway. Hetty sighed and his own worry tripled. Callen turned and strode into an unmonitored interrogation room of the boatshed, not wanting anyone to overhear this conversation. If Hetty had called him instead of enquiring about the state of the investigation via Eric, then things were not good. "How are they doing?"

"Not well I'm afraid," his mentor admitted. "Ms Jones had another seizure that lasted longer than the previous ones did. Mr. Deeks' lungs are beginning to fill with fluid and Steve is worried they will have to put him on a ventilator soon as well. Mr. Hanna is still reasonably well, but also displaying some cardio-vascular symptoms."

That was exactly what he did not want to hear. "Alright, the kid gloves are coming off now," he muttered under his breath, fury and ice clashing inside of him.

"Mr. Callen…" Hetty hedged.

"No, Hetty," he interrupted quietly, "this is not worth our people's lives. If anyone wants my badge after this, I will gladly give it up if that means Nell, Deeks and Sam survive."

Xxxxxxx

Note: Admittedly, I'm not sure if the Coast Guard would be able to lend a hand in this way since it's probably not exactly their cup of tea. Then again, there's interdepartmental assistance and since technically the suspects were fleeing on the water, it might just fall within their area of offering help. If not… creative license on my part ;)