Chapter 8: Family is Everything
A/N: I know this update also took forever and I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter - I got sidetracked with a story on bullying that fits into the Quinn series. It was hard to get back to this story, but I managed to do it finally. I see one more chapter and then this one will be finished.
A/N 2: This story is going further and further AU - Scenes have been shifted and dialogue from previous canon episodes has beem adapted to fit this story - especially in this chapter - You might not agree with the explanations of why people did and said what they did - but the plot bunnies told me it happened this way and I tend to believe them - I hope you enjoy it.
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Washington, DC
Henrietta Lange was sitting on a park bench outside the Department of Justice building, waiting for the afternoon investigation session to resume after the lunch break. Her two security guards were standing about twenty-five yards on either side of her, when Retired Navy Admiral Hollace Kilbride appeared, his height casting an afternoon shadow over the small woman.
"May I sit next to you, Henrietta?" the impeccably dressed and flawlessly groomed man asked her.
Hetty looked at his face, his hair and beard just slightly longer than when she last remembered him working at the Pentagon, in full uniform coordinating Naval intelligence reports with CIA rumors. She tried to remember what three lettered government agency it was to which the man was now attached, but she hadn't really followed his career. Since he retired from the Navy, he became a head-hunter for several of these agencies, and the last time Hetty had a run in with him was shortly after Callen had been shot and nearly killed, when the Admiral tried to recruit her back into the CIA.
"It's a free country, Admiral, at least for some people who don't have chains tying them to their watchdogs", she said, indicating her security guards.
"I must say, Henrietta, after all this time it seems strange seeing you here in D.C." he said as he sat down near her on the park bench.
"It is probably just as strange as it is for me, seeing you here, out of uniform, landlocked."
"We all have to make sacrifices, and hope that they are for the greater good. It's actually not so bad living and working here."
"It would be a lovely city, Admiral. All you would have to do is get rid of all the damn politicians and upper level bureaucrats."
The man had his hands folded in his lap. He twiddled his thumbs, nervously looking off in the distance as he asked her, "Do you think you could do a better job?" He chuckled softly at her answer.
"Monkeys could do a better job than what is being done here."
"So then, perhaps it is time for you to consider returning to Washington." he said, looking at her. His face had now taken on a serious look.
"I'd rather be taken off to Montelupich Prison, in Kraków, Poland, shortly after the Soviet Secret Police, the NKVD, set up shop there when they 'liberated' it from the Gestapo."
"Well, Henrietta, anytime that you want to move back to the civilized coast here, I'm sure that all these problems that have arisen for you would simply disappear."
"I don't know if I could do that, Admiral. I do have a life and a job on the other side of the country. Or at least I did when I left. I also have people who need me."
"There are people here in Washington who need you."
"Admiral, the people here do not need me. I am no politician. I never have been, nor will I ever be one."
"Henrietta, I would never insult you by suggesting you are anything of the kind. I just think you could have a bigger impact here. We need someone with your skills and experience."
"Ah, there's the bottom line. My experience. I thought I was sent here to protect me."
"It is my understanding that you were."
"But it sounds like you want to pack me off into the sunset, riding a desk here, where others can keep a close eye on me."
What I am offering you, Henrietta, is the chance to make an impact on policy.
"I do hope you and Vance aren't using these hearings to do your dirty work. You never know what secrets an old woman might reveal in the throes of her dementia. If you or anyone else thinks that I'm no longer capable of doing the job, all they need to do is just say so, and request my resignation."
"You know that I would never do that. I am in no position to do so, nor do I have any authority to ask you to resign."
"Good, because I'd probably tell you to go to hell."
"I know. That's what you told me the last time I talked to you about it. But you have to admit, I almost got you to move when your boy was shot."
She remembered back to the time that Callen was ambushed and took five bullets in the chest, It was only by the grace of God and the large hands of Sam Hanna trying to plug those holes, that kept him from bleeding out in the street that day. If he would not have made it, Hetty was sure that she would have resigned from NCIS and taken the Admiral up on his offer to come back to the CIA.
"I'm glad you phrased it as you did, 'my boy'. Yes, he really is 'my boy', and if I would have lost him, I think I would have seriously taken you up on your offer. I had... no I have become too emotionally attached to him. But you know what that is like."
"You are right. I do know what that is like. I still don't think that Nancy will ever forgive me for what happened to Tom. She blames me for not transferring him off the Enterprise. She claims I gave the orders for him to fly that mission only because I wanted to show off how brave my son was."
"How many years ago was that?"
"Tom went down, along with his RIO, Lt. Jeremy Grissom, on May 19, 1972. I will never forget that date. They were flying their F-4 Phantom just north of Hanoi, trying to suppress the AAA fire there before the rest of his squad began their bombing run. The two men and their plane just disappeared in a huge fireball, that was the report from his wing man, whose plane was also hit, but managed to make it back to the carrier. This was confirmed by enemy transcripts after the war. There were no remains to be found, so Nancy never got the closure she needed."
"Have you tried to talk to her, Admiral? Maybe, after all this time, she might listen to you, and share her grief."
"I don't even know where she is. I know she remarried, to a guy that had absolutely no connection with the military. They were living in Iowa, as far away from the ocean and the Navy as she could get. The last thing she ever said to me was that she never wanted to see me or any member of my family ever again. Since then I have lost track of her, more than likely, that is just the way she wants it."
"I could have some of my techs look into it and locate her for you, if that is what you wanted?"
"No. She would just look upon it as me trying to intrude into her life again. I'm sorry, Henrietta, but she is going to have to make the first move. I don't want to dredge up all those old feelings for her if she has moved on, and locked them away."
"How is your other son, William, isn't it?"
"Your mind is still like a steel trap. Yes, it is Will. He is now home with his family after he received a medical discharge from the Marines."
"He was injured? I never heard about it. How bad was it?" Hetty asked.
"He almost lost his life when his convoy was attacked near Kabul in Afghanistan. A twelve year old kid let the first two trucks go through, waiting until Will's humvee was passing by, and then fired off a roadside bomb that destroyed the humvee, blowing it ten feet into the air, and ejecting everyone that was inside. His driver was killed immediately, and Will spent a week in the Bagram field hospital near Kabul before being airlifted to Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany. He spent three months there in rehab. But he managed to walk away. Well walk might be the wrong word, since his knee has now permanently stiffened up, and he will always walk with a limp. He also suffers from PTSD, but he has a good doctor and group to work with, and Becca, his fiancée, is working hard with him to make his life as normal as possible."
"I'm glad to hear that he is doing as well as he is. You know, there is a strong sense of duty and obligation that runs deep in your family, just like in all the children I now have." Hetty exclaimed.
"All? You now have more children?" The Admiral asked, his eyebrows raised in astonishment.
"Yes. My family has grown. When you knew me before, I only had, as you put it, my one boy, but I was working on another two, not to mention a girl. They were part of his team, but they hadn't worked their way into my heart as he had. Since that time, my heart now wraps itself around four boys and two girls. These are the members of my family. They would, and already have, done anything and everything on this earth to keep me safe, and I will protect them and fight for them with every ounce of my being."
"I dread having to face an old she bear like you, who is trying to protect her cubs."
"That is what I fear the most with this investigation. They are trying to get rid of me first, and then destroy the team that I have spent so many years to build up."
"You know, I could probably find a spot for all your children, along with you, in one of the groups that I deal with. Just move all of them over to this side of the country, and do the same thing you do out in Los Angeles, but just do it here."
"I don't know of any other agency, military, government, or even quasi-government that will allow me the latitude that I and my team now have. Basically we are given the problems that no other agency can or is willing to undertake. We are told what to do, but never told how to do it. We may bend the rules, sometimes even warp them almost beyond comprehension, but if we break them completely, we suffer the consequences the same as anyone else. Too many of these other groups want to micro manage all their programs. Far too often, my agents have to change things on the fly, while the operation is in progress. They can't wait to get permission to change what they are doing. They may call in and tell me, and then a simple yes or no reply, tells them what they are going to be able to do."
"I think I can guess what type of operations your team are involved in, and I can understand how you would never be able to have to work under those micro managing parameters."
"Admiral, almost all of our operations are classified, You can understand what I am talking about. Think Navy SEALs. What we do is somewhat like the civilian version of what they do."
"Ahhh. I now can see why I can't access any of your mission logs, or find any information about your agents."
"You worked with SEALs, didn't you? You know about the inseparable bond between Buds and Teams?"
"Yes, Henrietta. In some instances the bond is closer than that of husband and wife. They become a family of brothers."
"Now you are beginning to understand what it is like for my children, the members of my team. The team dynamics are now almost perfectly balanced. Most of the time they do not even have to talk to each other, because the partner seems to read the other's mind. Correctly, I might add. How many agencies would allow them to work that way, if we were to switch?"
"You are right. Almost every other agency with which I am familiar could not tolerate an arrangement like that. They would destroy it in an instant by demanding that your people do things "their" way."
"I also have a social problem with moving my operation to the East Coast. Two of my children love to surf. One of them is trying to teach his partner to join him on the waves, even though she seems somewhat reluctant to do it. It is hard for them to get the time away for them to do this out in Los Angeles. With the colder water and less desirable waves all up and down the coast here, I don't think that they would tolerate a move here."
"I can understand that the amenities here may not be the same as they are in sunny California, but there you cannot find anything to compare with the historic sites, cultural offerings, or gourmet restaurants that are available here."
Hetty chuckled, as she shook her head, thinking about the members of her team. "Admiral, my people are involved in making history almost each and every day, so historic sites do not hold a major interest for them. Their idea of a cultural event is more of a MMA contest or night at a kerioke bar, and your gourmet dining cannot match the fish tacos from the excellent food trucks that are in Los Angeles."
Admiral Kilbride broke out in a great big belly laugh. "Ah, Henrietta, the people you have gathered around yourself must be as unique as you are."
She turned to the man still sitting there next to her, raised one of her eyebrows, and said to him with a cold smile that indicated the truthfulness of his statement. "They have to be in order for them to do their jobs. You know I would accept nothing less of them."
The Admiral just smiled at her and nodded.
Hetty looked up and saw her two security guards looking at her. One looked down at his watch and then back at her, as he nodded the message that it was time for them to return.
"And now, Admiral, if you'll excuse me, I'm late for my daily flogging."
They both stood up. Hetty walked past him to join the men in her security detail. The Admiral shook his head sadly, somehow knowing that his old friend would survive everything that was thrown against her. He just wondered how many more times she could endure treatment like this or how much longer the powers that be will allow her to live. The longer she walked the earth, the more secrets she became privy to, and the more fear would continue to fester in the minds of high ranking officials, that those secrets would someday come out in the open. "Oh, Henrietta, I do hope you know what you are doing," he said softly as he walked away.
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Los Angeles, California
Sam was hard at work in the bullpen, intent on finishing off part of the paper work that he knew would be demanded of him by Hetty and Granger, and now he supposed Wallace and her crew would want a copy too. Sam was siting at his desk, so he didn't notice Chief Investigator Ava Wallace. She had quickly looked around, and saw that they were the only two people in the area, so she walked up to his desk, and waited for him to acknowledge her presence.
When he looked up, trying to think of just the right word to use for his report, he saw her standing there. Sam looked at her and said with a chill in his voice, " Investigator Wallace, is there something that I can do for you?"
"Agent Hanna. Ahh... look, I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot. I was sent here to do a job, just like you."
"Oh, no. You are not like me. I go after the bad guys, not good guys."
"Well, I'm sorry that you feel that way. Maybe when all of this is over, we can find someplace that's neural ground, and I can buy you a drink...as a peace offering."
"I don't think that would be a good idea. You see, I'm married, and I'm sure my wife would not appreciate me doing that."
"Oh... Oh!" she said, both of her eyebrows raised in surprise. "That's not in your record. I wonder why your file lacks that information."
"Yeah, well, there are a lot of things that aren't in my record, or Callen's or Hetty's or any of us. Sometimes information is shared verbally on a need to know basis. Other times, these things are purposely kept out of the records, so that no one could use the information to force us to divulge top secret plans and information."
"I'm sorry. I...None of your other, uh, team members were married. I guess I just assumed...Yeah. Some things like that would make a lot of sense. I mean, it must be hard...in your line of work."
"It can be hard in any line of work. But yet, anything that is worthwhile is worth the effort, right? My wife used to be an operative. She understands the situation better than most."
"You are a lucky man."
"Oh, I definitely know I am. My family is everything for me."
Callen came walking up, opening up his buzzing cell phone, and checked the text message that was sent to him.
Ava Wallace waited for the senior agent to close up his phone again, nodded at Sam and then just said, "Agent Callen." as she hurried past him out of the bullpen area.
Sam immediately became preoccupied with papers on his desk, holding up an open file folder so he did not have to look at his partner.
"What was that all about?" Callen wondered as he watched the DOJ investigator leave the area.
"I have no idea." Callen shifted his gaze to Sam, but the man remained absorbed in the papers at which he was looking.
"Well, what did she ask you?" he asked, while standing at the edge of Sam's desk.
"I don't know," he said with a laugh, a smile growing bigger and bigger on his face. "It was nothing."
"Okay," Callen replied in a voice that indicated he knew something was up. He dialed his phone again as he went over to his desk and sat down, still looking at Sam with a smirk on his face.
Sam shot a quick glance over at his partner, then went back to looking at the papers he was holding. "So stop looking at me." he said as he continued to read.
"I'm not looking at you." Callen claimed with his eyes turned away from Sam. When Sam raised his eyes to challenge that last remark, Callen defended himself by going on the attack. "Now, I'm looking at you 'cause you're looking at me. Why are you acting so weird?"
Sam tried to take the offensive again, "I'm not acting weird," he said as he pointed his finger first at himself then at Callen, "You're acting weird."
"Wow. I did not see that coming." the team leader said, trying as hard as he could to keep a straight face.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Sam tried denying it again, but his huge smile gave him away.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about. Callen said mockingly. "This is how you act when you get hit on. You obviously made an impression on her. Must have been that good interview you gave her while you were driving."
"It was nothing."
"Sure it was."
"She just wanted to have a drink with me...as a peace offering."
"As a peace offering...or as a piece offering, big guy?" Callen asked as a joke, knowing that Sam would never cheat on Michelle. Both of them had worked way too hard to keep their family safe from outside influences and internal mistrust to blow it on a casual fling.
Callen looked down at his phone. Sam used the distraction to throw his pen at him, but Callen quickly held up a file folder as a shield, and diverted the pen to the floor.
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Washington, DC
Hetty entered into the empty hearing room and walked over to the witness table. A few minutes later, Special Congressional Investigator Michael Thomas threw the main door open and breezed into the room. He looked around, surprised that there was no one else in the room to watch him make his usual grand entrance.
The congressman walked over to his victim, and asked her, "Where is everybody?"
"I would just answer you with the words of an old Polish proverb, 'It's not my circus, they're not my monkeys.'"
The Special Congressional Investigator Michael Thomas took note of the sarcasm in the old lady's voice, "Well, I'm glad to see that you're feeling better."
Hetty looked around the room, "How much longer are you planning on dragging out this fiasco?"
"Well, I think it's best if we wait for the others." he said, as he made his way toward the long desk-like table where he and the others investigators held court.
Hetty decided to soften her tone and put him at ease. "You don't have to be afraid of me, I don't bite, Congressman." But, just so he would know that she would not give in to his methods, and tell him everything he wanted to know, she added this warning, "Unless, of course, I'm provoked.'
The man turned to look at her, as he got to the edge of the investigator's table. He was already tired of dealing with her arrogance. With the room empty, there was no audience to watch him justify his treatment of this woman. "I prefer to have everything on the record, Ms. Lange." and then continued to his seat at the center of the table.
Hetty looked at him and thought, **What a pompous ass. All he cares about is how good he looks as he tries to destroy me and my family.** Her sarcastic mode kicked in again as she answered him. "Of course you would. Even I understand that."
He stood by his chair, thinking that his elevated status would help him intimidate her as he looked down at her and said. "It's called accountability. You don't ever seem to think that you have anything for which you have to answer. None of the rules ever apply to you. You and your people, with your ... secret operations and black budgets ... you seem to think that you can run all over the place, and do whatever the hell you want, with total freedom from liability."
With a wry smile on her face, Hetty looked intently at him, as she started to walk toward him. She answered, slowly and succinctly, going into her teacher mode, so he could understand, "What we do ... is protect people like you and your family, so your wife can eat at Le Grange today, without worrying about being blown up by a bomb. And your daughter can attend George Washington without being kidnapped by extremists."
"How the hell would you know where my wife is having lunch today?" he asked, keeping his anger at this revelation contained just under his emotional surface.
Hetty's sarcastic mode kicked in to answer his question, "Accountability."
Thomas closed his eyes and shook his head. **Damn her,** he thought. **She's doing it again, turning the tables on me. Wallace had better find out something to take her down, and soon. I'm beginning to understand why everyone is afraid of her. But I am going to beat her at her own game.**
Hetty's face changed again, now showing her disappointment and indignation. She promptly addressed him as a scolding parent, who caught her child doing something wrong, "And just for the record, you don't want to know the sacrifices we make, because if you did, you would be so ashamed of your actions, this hearing and your pathetic excuse for a career."
He never expected to hear her say anything like that. Hetty's words stung him to his very core. He was trying to find the right words to go back on the offensive. But before he could open his mouth, Hetty's watchdogs opened the double doors of the hearing room and waited until the rest of the commission members filed in.
Congresswoman Ann Jones was the first one to notice the empty room, "I'm sorry." she apologized. "Are we late? We all got a text message saying that the hearing was pushed back by a half hour."
A grimace appeared on Investigator Thomas' face. He knew the little lady standing in front of him had gotten in the last word, and he would not be able to defend himself. He glared at Hetty as he asked the rhetorical question, "By whom?"
She just smiled and raised her arms slightly with open palms in the universal gesture that said she had no idea of what he was implying.
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Department of Justice Hearing Room, Washington, DC
Later that afternoon, Congressman Thomas was pontificating for everyone in the room again. "We all make important decisions that affect the lives of others. We use a complex set of rules to do this, because history has taught us which decisions protect the most lives.
"When you're in the middle of a war, Mr. Thomas, sometimes you find that you cannot rely on past history to make those decisions." Hetty countered. "History is being made at that very moment, and all those sets of rules, no matter how complex they may be, can prove to be a little outdated."
"Mm. So you believe that you have the authority to change these rules, whenever you see fit?" he asked.
Hetty's phone started to buzz. She pulled it out of her pocket, and kept it under the table so no one could notice she was reading the text sent to her. The only words on the screen were, "your uncle Mattias is back in town". Her mind staggered at the blow, as it started to devise all sorts of countermoves. The first would be to get out of this investigation. Could she make the pompous ass up there see she had far more important things to do than to answer his questions? Probably not, but she had to give it one last try.
" Mr. Thomas," she asked, "what would you do if one of your family members were kidnapped?"
Remembering her earlier warning about being provoked, he asked, "Is that a threat, Ms. Lange?"
"It's an exaggerated example..."
Her opinion of the man went down even further. He was trying to paint her into a corner as someone who cared nothing about others, as she worked to accomplish her own agenda. But she was glad that he took her earlier warning to heart. She would not be intimidated by someone as inept as he was. But if she couldn't get through to this old fool, perhaps by using him as an example, she could defend her position to the other members of the Committee.
"...I have no desire to kidnap any member of your family. I'm just asking you to humor me for the sake of argument.
Thomas started sputtering in self-righteous anger, thinking that he had won a point from her. The sly smile on his face belied the words that he threw back at her. "W...I don't see any humor in that question."
**Could he really be that dense? He must have shown some intelligence for him to be elected, unless his time in Washington has sucked all the brain cells from his head.** When she thought about it again, the latter seemed to be the more likely option.
"Neither do I. How...far...would...you...go if the life of a family member was threatened?" Her hands were folded, but the index finger of her right hand broke away from the others, and pointed at him, emphasizing each and every word.
The man answered, also using his hands to emphasize the points he made, imaginarily drawing all his points in toward himself. "I would use every resource available to me, ...within the law..., to save them. But this case is not about my family.
Hetty looked coldly at him, her hands folded and not moving at all. She wanted nothing to distract from the words she used to answer him. She deliberately had a slight pause after each one to make sure he heard, and the rest of the committee members understood, every single word that she now said. "But it...is...about...mine."
The Chief Investigator felt that here was a weakness in her argument that he could exploit. "And maybe that is your basic problem." he said. "None of the agents and the support personnel, that you oversee, are members of your family. They are, in fact, employees of the U.S. government. They are human assets. They..."
Hetty saw that there is no understanding in him at all. In fact, he wasn't even paying attention to her words. He was rummaging through a stack of papers, it looked like a whole bunch of statistical printouts. She had no more time to devote to this fool, not when her family needed her. She stood up, and started to walk to the door.
Congresswoman Ann Jones, thinking that Hetty might be suffering from another medical emergency, interrupted her colleague as she called out to the older woman in concern, "Ms. Lange, is there a problem?"
Thomas finally realizes that he is no longer the center of attention. He looked up to see Hetty's back as she neared the doors of the room. "Where the hell do you think you're going?!" he yelled at her, demanding an answer.
The little ninja had finally had enough, There was absolutely no way to get through to that man. She dismissed him, like she would treat anyone else that refused to have an open mind. He no longer existed in her world. She could care less about what he demanded. Instead, she looked at the security guard at the door, and waved to him her desire for him to open it. He complied and she left the room.
Thomas then turned his attention on Matthew Ogilvie, Hetty's NCIS appointed attorney, and started demanding answers from him, yelling even louder. Maybe she could hear him out in the hall and would come to her senses, returning to the room, so he could question her further.
"Now what is she doing? Just where does she think she is going now?!"
Her lawyer raised one hand, asking to stop the proceedings, as he left the room to talk with her. "One moment, please," he asked, raising one finger to emphasize his point as he rose, and chased after his client. He saw her walking away down the hallway, and ran to catch up with her.
Puffing away from that little bit of exertion, he asked her, "Hetty, what are you doing?"
"I'm going home." she answered, without even looking at him; she was so intent on her decision.
" You can't." he responded, with his words and with his hands.
"I need to get back to Los Angeles." she countered.
Ogilvie looked down the hallway, and what he saw let him know that was not an option. "They won't let you go anywhere."
Hetty looked one way and saw the uniformed security guards at that end of the hall. She turned her head and saw that the other end had her personal watch dogs. Both of these groups could hear Thomas' shouting and started to converge on her.
"Horse feathers." She vocalized the mild curse, as she continued to think of some way to exit the building without them, and make her way home.
The elevator bell rang, indicating the car had arrived at that floor. The people that had occupied the car exited, and started walking down the hall. Hetty hurried to get into the car before it moved to its next destination. She made it and the door closed, bearing her away to temporary freedom.
Knowing that she would not see him again, she gave her final orders to her lawyer, "Enjoy my dinner, when it arrives, Mr. Ogilvie." He continued to stand there, looking at the space where she was just seconds ago, with a very confused look on his face. Never, in all the time that he had practiced law, had he ever had a client as eccentric as Ms. Henrietta Lange.
One of the security staff behind the Committee members received a report on Hetty's escape in his earwig, and walked up to Congressman Thomas to apprise him of the situation. As he whispered these new developments to the Committee Chairman, the man receiving the report was clearly becoming more and more upset with what he heard.
"Come on, how tough could it be to find one little woman in a building with as much security as this one did? Do I have to figure out everything for you people? Put the building under full lock down procedures. Do not allow anyone to enter or leave the building until we find her." The congressman wondered if he would have to hunt her down himself. Certainly the people of the security force could not even keep this little old woman in their sight for five minutes.
All of a sudden a blaring alarm started to ring. Everyone at the podium was startled and immediately stood up and looked around.
"What the hell is that?" Thomas asked no one in particular.
Congresswoman Jones, who had been seated to the Chairman's immediate left, smiled as she turned toward him. She knew the trick that Hetty used and fully understood why the older woman would want to get away from the room. The younger woman gave the older one full points for escaping the badgering of her committee chairman. It was no wonder that she had been placed in charge of the Office of Special Projects. "It's the fire alarm. We have to leave." she told him.
"She did this." he said, "She's relentless." The Congressman knew that he had lost control of the committee, indeed the whole investigation. Even Congresswoman Jones was falling under the spell of Ms. Henrietta Lange. He could see it in the smile on her face just now, as they all started to leave the room. But she was a woman, and everyone knew they stuck together.
He was really pissed off, but he knew he have to leave…
In the back of the building, a third floor window was opened. It overlooked the alley, with an open top dumpster down below, its filled garbage bags and shredded paper overflowing its brim. The fire alarm continued to blare throughout the building. Hetty stuck her head out of the window and stared downward. "Agh," she said as she thought about what she was going to have to do. She took off her glasses and tucked them into the inside breast pocket of her smart blue pantsuit. She crossed herself and said a small prayer that this would work, and she would not kill herself in the process.
She remembered her morning routine that day, and berated herself for skipping parts, "Of all the mornings I forgot to stretch in my workout."
Knowing that there was nothing else to do to help her prepare for the jump, she climbed up into the window, took a deep breath and jumped out, landing on her back with a loud groan, in the middle of the shredded paper. She looked and smelledthe mess in which she had landed, and thought that perhaps her time as a field agent was completely over. She was so very glad that there were no members of her family as OSP to hear her say to herself, "Maybe I am getting too old for this."
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Andrews Field, Maryland
The plane had already been waiting for ten minutes on the tarmac. The engines of each of the three Marine Lockheed C-130 Hercules had been at idle, the turboprops whirring, waiting to take off and pull the planes into the sky. Each had its full complement of soldiers in travel gear, strapped in and waiting to depart. Then word came down across the radio to shut the engines down, but the troops were to remain as they were.
As the troops in the center Hercules continued to wait, they were starting to complain among themselves that this was typical military procedure, hurry up and wait. The scuttlebutt that came back from the cockpit was that they were waiting for one more person who had something to do with the flight.
All of a sudden the side door panel opened up and Hollace Kilbride appeared at the door.
He entered the plane and started to walk forward on the flight deck, his eyes focused on one person seated before him, "Just where do you think you're going?"
Staff Sergeant Shane Davies remained seated and looked intently at him, wondering who this man in the blue suit and tie was. He carried himself as if he was military, but this was Washington, and the well dressed man could be part of any of a whole host of different agencies, so he answered as briefly as possible, "Camp Pendleton, sir."
The retired Admiral looked at Davies and said, "I wasn't talking to you, Staff Sergeant." There was a mild tone of anger in his voice, as he verbally dismissed the soldier.
A half dozen seats ahead of Davies, Hetty leaned forward to look at the man she knew was talking to her. Even though her small stature hid her behind the taller soldiers, her chic pants suit stood out as never being anything that was government issue. She didn't want the Staff Sergeant to have to suffer the anger that she knew was directed at her, so she turned her head to face the former Admiral.
The retired Admiral fired a full broadside at her, "You just cannot walk out of a congressional hearing."
Hetty immediately thought, **If he knew about it already, he was working for some agency, and was not here as the friend he claimed to be.** "I can and I did," she told him. "If they want to punish me by taking my job, I will do them a favor. I quit. I'm going home."
"For what?" Kilbride asked her, "To take on Mattias Draeger? That is exactly what he wants. I've been trying to avoid that at all costs."
**DOJ? CIA? Certainly not NCIS,** she thought. **Who would have that kind of information?** "Would you rather an enemy agent like that be running around here in Washington?" she asked.
"No." Kilbride snapped back at her. "I would prefer for you to follow orders."
Again she wondered at who was giving those orders. "I've never let anyone fight my battles for me." she said in her defense.
The former Admiral was having none of it, dismissing her words, "Are you trying to test my patience?"
Hetty made one last attempt to make him see why she had to go, "I'm trying to protect my people. Hollace, please, let me do this." She very seldom used personal names with people, unless they were very dear friends and the situation called for it. This was a situation that definately called for it. The pleading woman used the Admiral's personal name, as she tried to make him see how personal this was for her. Her family was being attacked. It had nothing at all to do with her job.
He sighed in exasperation, knowing that there was no way he was going to change her mind on this subject. A look of defeat came over his face as he asked her the question he feared he would be left with, "And what am I supposed to tell Congressman Thomas?"
**He's working for that idiot? How the mighty have fallen.** Hetty thought. With a cold look in her eye, she gazed directly at him and said, "Tell him I think he's an ass."
The soldiers that were partially eavesdropping on this conversation could not help contain their muffled laughter, knowing that the little woman among them had bested this military-officer-type man and shut him down completely.
The former admiral felt the sting in her rebuke, and knew that the soldiers around her recognized it too. "Keep me informed," he said to her, as he turned and left the plane. He tried to make it sound as if it were an order, but it didn't sound convincing, even to him.
)( )( )( )( )( )(
Los Angeles, California
Nell was sitting in her apartment, her tablet in her hand, looking at the pictures that were stored there. She had a strange look on her face, as if she were reliving the events all over again. She saw the picture of a green bathroom door filled with bullet holes, and heard the burst of automatic weapon fire. She used her thumb to advance to the next picture, and stared at the intruder that she shot, laying dead on the floor, and remembered pulling the trigger of her Sig, and his falling, as he absorbed the impact of the shells. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she already knew what the next picture would be, but she thumbed to it anyway. There was the close up of her would be assailant, the picture zoomed in on his chest, as she thought once more about how quickly the life ebbed out of him, and his body stopped moving completely.
Her phone started buzzing, and for just a moment she stared at it, wondering why it was destroying her concentration. She picked it up, and did not recognize the number on the caller ID.
"Hello?" she said hesitatingly.
On the burn phone that Granger had smuggled to her in the halls of the Department of Justice building, Hetty was calling her from the C-130 still in flight.
"Ms. Jones, I need you to give me a sitrep." she said to her young analyst.
"Hetty?" Nell asked, somewhat surprised. "Where are you?"
"I'm somewhere over Kansas", the older lady replied. "More importantly, where is Mattias Draeger?"
Nell was forced to admit, "I ... don't know."
Hetty automatically went into her Operations Manager mode, giving her orders to Nell to pass on to the team, "Well, I don't want anyone to go out after him until I return to Los Angeles.
Nell has a very worried look on her face as she speculated, "It's probably too late already. I'm sure Callen and the rest of the team are out there looking for him."
The words that Nell used to answer her questions finally registered in Hetty's mind, "You don't know?" she asked.
"No..., I'm not at work. I am... I'm home. Nell admitted.
Knowing that this was something completely out of the ordinary for the younger woman, Hetty immediately became concerned, and asked her, "Why are you there? Are you ill?"
Nell wanted to give her some sort of story, but this was Hetty. Not only would she find out any story she could make up would be just that, but the older lady had taken her under her wing and trusted her. For that reason alone she deserved the truth. "I'm not." she said, and waited for her boss to respond.
Knowing that something must have gone horribly wrong in the analyst's life, Hetty knew she had to get more information in order to help this young woman, who had become the youngest daughter in her family, "Nell...? What's going on?" she asked, hoping that it was something that could be fixed.
Nell looked down at her tablet, still displaying the close up picture of the dead intruder, her fingers nervously tapping the tablet, trying in vain to change the outcome. But it still was there. Reluctantly, she was forced to lay out the facts, as she remembered them taking place. "Hetty..., I shot someone." she said, a small hitch in her breath.
Hetty knew where this was going. Her dear, sweet Nell Jones had lost her agent innocence, and it was eating down to her very soul. This had always been a possibility, as soon as Hetty sent her out into the field. She just wished that they would be sitting together at her desk, discussing this over a cup of tea, instead of the way it was being played out. Trying to find out how badly the young woman was being affected by this, Hetty just said, "Oh, I see." Both women knew that it was nothing more than a command for Nell to continue to describe what happened.
Nell continued as ordered. "And... he died." She still was somewhat in a state of denial. The facts all pointed to the fact that she killed the man. But her heart, her very soul wanted to find something, anything, to dispute those facts. That is why she kept looking at the pictures. Maybe there might be something in them that she hadn't seen before, something that would tell her that the man was not dead, that she had not killed him.
"Was it self-defense?" Hetty asked, knowing the anguish that Nell was going through.
Nell knew that the intruder was coming after her because she had been disguised as Hetty. She knew that it was a kill or be killed situation. But it was in every fiber of her being to analyze the situation from every possible viewpoint, until there were no more different ways to look at it. It was the over analyzing Nell that started to answer, "Yes., But... it all happened so fast..., and now I'm not..."
"Hetty could see that the younger woman was obsessing with these 'what if' thoughts and knew she had to put a stop to them. She knew the training that Nell had gone through, and knew that on previous occasions, the agent in her took over from the analyst, allowing her to act and not over think things, as she was doing now. Make her get back up into the saddle again. Calm her down and divert her thoughts. She interrupted her protege, just praying that she was doing the right thing. "I know, Nell. I know. But I now I need you to focus. Keep your chin up. I'm on my way back to Los Angeles and I'm going to need to hit the ground running. Is that understood?"
"Yes, ma'am." was the only answer Nell gave her.
Hetty breathed a sigh of relief. It appeared from her answer that Nell was back on board. Now, the bigger question, would Nell still be able to work with her and the rest of the team? "Good girl. Do you have a pen?"
She went to her tablet and wiped away the photo that still had the close up of her dead assailant, and turned to her notebook mode with a blank note page where she could write down Hetty's instructions. "Go ahead." Nell confirmed and waiting for Hetty to go on.
Hetty started listing the things she expected Nell to assemble for her "I'll going to need a chopper waiting for me at Pendleton to fly to the Santa Monica airport. When I arrive there I will want a car there waiting with some of my weapons.
Nell acknowledged the order and started thinking what she needed to do to carry it out. "Got it," she acknowledged. Even though Hetty mentioned weapons and Nell knew that there was the possibility of a fire fight upcoming, she immediately switched to agent mode – and kept going on instinct – or was it her complete trust in her training?