Chapter 8
Pins, Bullets and Journals
A/N I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter. I prefer to work ahead, yet it came to a point I am not too sure where this story is heading… Well, I sure hope you'll like this chapter like the previous one. It's a shorter one indeed.
Thanks for leaving your reviews, Mulderette, Linda Wiggington, LostForeverInHisEyes, Janice S, ssl71, countrygirluk56, Wotumba1, josephine66, Guest, n4d1n3 en Amjm
Disclaimer: Of course, any resemblance with actual persons, places, buildings, and addresses are purely coincidental. This means that names or incidents which come by in this story are simple fictitious. All, except for the ones who were made up by CBS, Shane Brennan and R. Scott Gemmill.
o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)
Los Angeles || opposite of the NCIS office of special projects
It was odd, Henrietta Lange thought, that Shay Mosley asked for her presence because of an older case. Without telling which case. She shook her head, more or less to herself. Of course she could've asked herself.
The new assistant director never required anything from Hetty before and, after all, she had access to all there was. Besides, there was Nell, with the knowledge of and access to the systems too. She hoped she left the young woman with all there was to know. And Mosley could rely on Callen.
But then, Hetty doubted Mosley would ever turn to him for the assistance she wanted. Such a shame. Hetty had taught the senior team leader well, and his memory was accurate, faultless actually. Such a perfect team she had in here, but for herself there was no reason to stay. Things had changed during the period she'd chosen to leave the country for things that needed to be done, and once she was back, it was too awkward to continue like nothing changed. Because everything had changed, even the interactions between the team.
Deep in thoughts she drove her classic Jaguar opposite of the building she picked herself so many years before.
Before she turned off the engine of the car, she heaved a deep sigh. She tried to shake off the feeling that something was not right.
o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)
Los Angeles || outside the NCIS office of special projects
He was about to press the number he knew by heart, yet Callen wondered what he was going to tell the petite former case manager. He inhaled slowly through his nose, and looked up when he heard a car coming nearer.
The black-and-white LAPD car halted where Callen had expected a taxi to stop, near their office. An agent got out, still wearing a bulletproof vest, and then a LAPD cop, also in the usual uniform. Callen didn't really pay attention until he heard his name being called.
"Hey, you want a ride, Callen?"
He looked up as he heard his name, grinned and shook his head. "Thanks guys, but no thanks."
"Wrong answer my friend."
From behind him he recognized the sound, and in the same second electric waves reached his body, making him stumble and fall to the ground.
"Why, hello again, agent Callen."
From his semi-paralyzed position Callen understood. His own vest. How Paul Angelo escaped from the theatre after he was shot. Angelo, who had friends everywhere. All they had done right now was try and find him. And being right here, right now, without a car of his own, made him vulnerable in being found.
A boot came his way. No way to avoid it. It hit his shoulder, and immediately after, his stomach. Pain shot through nearly every inch of his body and he knew for sure that bones broke.
He couldn't help the scream of pain he let out. One these men didn't appreciate and the fist which took his shirt, pulled him halfway up before the other fist landed on his cheek. It made his head snap back and Callen knew from experience the skin tore with the punch. Did it matter, right now?
He was too late, but for what?
Another attack came of what felt like hundreds of small pins entering his body. A taser. No way to fight back. He tried to concentrate on his breathing while his muscles simply refused, powerless, letting him down.
He felt how strong hands dragged him towards and into the police car.
o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)
At first, she took it for granted.
A LAPD car, an agent from one of the NCIS teams. An unwilling captive.
Nothing extraordinary.
She, Henrietta Lange, had seen scenes like this many, many times before. A scene she was about to ignore, until she realized it was not at the boathouse and having LAPD at their NCIS headquarters was weird.
The officers around were rather hard-handed, she witnessed, and the man who was taken captive was tasered even though he wasn't really resisting any longer.
Then, all if a sudden, she knew it.
Everything she witnessed right now were far from how things should be. The unwilling arrested man's head lolled back after another shock went through his body and in the same minute she saw his face and gasped in disgust, a voice behind her sounded.
"Not exactly a position in which you want to see your favorite agent, right, Lange?"
o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)
Los Angeles || NCIS office of special projects, meantime
"A-hum", Nell announced her presence in Mosley's cozy office near to the Ops room. "Ma'am?"
"Jones. Knocking may work better than humming something and next to that, I'd prefer to not have any irregular updates. So, instead of have you dropping by whenever it suits you best, I suggest we work by hourly briefings. Agreed?"
Although Shay Mosley smiled politely from behind her desk, Nell sensed the superiority and it left her staggered.
"Excuse me, what did you say? You mean you don't want me around, not even when there's any new developments from our side? Cos that's what you're saying, am I correct?"
Mosley leaned back in her chair, facing the young, annoyed hazel-eyed agent. She only nodded. "It'll work, Jones. It worked for Harley as well."
Nell shook her head, then switched to a tight nod. "I'm not Hidoko, and excuse me for saying... it's not how we do this in here."
She cocked her head just slightly and decided to leave it like this. She dropped a paper file on the desk. Then she added a small journal. "Until your next moment of update you may want to study this. You may question me later. Ma'am."
On that she left the office, not awaiting any reply.
o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)
"I really… I don't believe it, Eric. Why would she do this? She didn't even let me explain, it was just that she dismissed me. Just like that."
He pushed up his spectacles and swiveled his chair in her direction. "Nell… Let it go. All you can do is wait until she summons you back in her office. This is how she works and I suppose all we can do is get used to it. Or move on, find another job."
"That's not what I want. Not what I meant either. I mean… It was to help her understand what Callen went through and how close he and Hetty are. After all, that is what is going on, and that is how Callen figures how Paul is going to take care of the business."
Eric nodded. "He asked me to take care of Hetty, once she's in here. He's going to try and warn her beforehand." He frowned and continued "even though he's injured, he goes on and on. And I'm pretty sure he's already on his way, with several rerouting and different ways of transportations."
"He's not even allowed to drive himself, so yeah, I bet he has to be very inventive indeed," Nell said. She nodded to her best friend and took a seat behind Eric. After a short sigh, she decided that it was worthwhile to try and find out more about Paul Angelo's whereabouts of the past few years.
o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)
Los Angeles || outside the NCIS office of special projects
"You may want to get in this car too, miss Lange."
It sounded as a kind invitation but then, even before she saw him, faced him, she recognized his voice and in that same seconds she knew it was bad. Beyond bad, perhaps.
"We could talk about it, Paul. About everything you want to talk about. Like civilized people. So, why don't we get in the office and see what we can do for you."
"So your man lied. Said you didn't work here no longer." He nodded to one of the uniformed men and added "From what I remember you don't want any liars around. Right?"
How was she about to think of a plausible answer? Besides, how could she give an answer at all when she had to watch how the taser was held against Callen's left shoulder. She froze and just closed her eyes. Gasped, horrified by as she saw how his muscles spasmed time after time and his body staggered against the backseat of the police car. It was about the first time she was around to see him being tortured and suffer, hearing him groan out loud.
He should not be a victim of a decision she once made.
"Mr. Angelo... Callen was right. I suggest you let him go. If you want to discuss any matters about your past at NCIS, you ought to discuss them with me."
Could it be that Mosley wanted to discuss a matter like this with her too? But Callen knew all about it. And how and why take Callen when all Paul Angelo wanted was her?
"You don't want him... don't need him," she tried to convince the former agent. Immediately after, she wondered why back then, after Angelo had betrayed her team, she deleted the files, his files, and thus making sure to wipe out any paper trail, wipe out an identity — his identity?
Why? She knew all too well how much an identity meant to people, after all she saw what it had done to Callen. His struggle to find anything, any files, that would get him to know who he was or where he came from.
She'd done it deliberately to Paul Angelo though. And now he was back, making sure he'd punish her by hurting Callen.
Her fault, her very own fault.