HALO PART 4
The next morning, Jordan quickly found herself explaining the events that led to her "non-death" to Hetty and Granger in the bullpen. Callen stood by her side along with Sam and Tom, offering additional information.
"So this Dylan person claims to be part of a Black Ops within the CIA?" Granger spoke up, casting questioning eyes on Jordan.
"Yes. He said that he'd been undercover for the past six months trying to bring down a Russian mobster by the name of Denis Sokoloff, who is rumored to have ties with a fringe terrorist group in the U.S." Jordan responded; holding his gaze.
"Dylan was the only name he gave you?" Hetty replied looking puzzled.
"That was it. Wouldn't say if it was a first or last name," Callen answered, focusing his attention on Hetty's face. He tried to find any hint of recognition from her at the name, but found nothing from her expression. This was Hetty Lange after all; a master at putting up the mask when needed.
Callen wondered how Dylan knew Hetty. Was he one of her 'orphans' too; the Grace Stevens situation still leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.
Granger blew a breath through his teeth, turning his attention to Sam and Tom, "How did he seem to you two?"
Tom was silent for a moment as if considering his answer, "Seemed to be on the up and up; but I think there's more to his story."
"I agree; not sure he's telling us everything," Sam added as Callen and Jordan nodded in agreement.
Granger turned on his heel and headed in the direction of the boatshed, "I'll make a few calls and see what I can find out about this mission and this Dylan character."
Hetty waited a beat before speaking again, "Miss Harris, has your family been notified?"
"I spoke with them last night and with Agent Ross this morning, he's the only one at the FBI that knows I'm still alive."
Hetty steepled her fingers beneath her chin, "I see. So, what is the next course of action?"
"We're going to give Bessonov what he wants…my death. Or at least he'll think I'm dead," Callen explained. "Once he believes I'm out of the way; Jordan and I will follow him and Dylan back to Sokoloff. I'm thinking either he or Bessonov will lead us to the mastermind."
Hetty nodded, "Very good. Well then; it appears we have a death to orchestrate," she remarked before reaching for the phone.
Next Day -Hotel Room:
Dylan sat at the table by the window reading the paper. Zakhar sat across from him working on a crossword puzzle and listening to Prokofiev on his iPod; the music was set on continuous loop. Dylan felt like he was slowly going insane.
His thoughts went back to the events of the cabin and his talk with the NCIS team; He had the feeling that they didn't trust him completely which was understandable.
Agent Harris had asked why he'd saved her when he'd let the other agents die. It was true that he was protecting his cover; something he'd have to answer for come judgment day. It was also true that he didn't like to hurt women; the very idea made his stomach turn. The main reason, if he were completely honest, was that he didn't want another woman's death on his conscience. The sudden vibrating of his cell phone brought him out of his morose thoughts. Putting his paper down on the table; he slid his chair back and headed for the door.
Zakhar glanced up from his puzzle, his ice colored gaze following Dylan's movements, "Where are you going?"
Dylan looked back with his hand resting on the doorknob, "Just going to check out the vending machines."
Zakhar shook his head in reproach, "You're going to ruin your teeth with that junk."
Dylan responded by rolling his eyes and exiting the room. Turning left he moved down the hallway to where the vending machines were located. Taking his cell from his pocket he read the text message on the screen from Agent Callen. Turning the phone off and slipping it back into his pocket, he bought a bag of chips from the machine and then headed back to the room.
The Rooftop Bar and Grill: Evening
Callen sat on one of the stools at the end of the bar nursing a bottle of beer. From his position he had a good view of the entrance. His eyes roamed the room; taking in the patrons who'd come in for a cold drink and hot music on a Friday night. Some were dancing; some were at the tables with food and drinks while others sat at the bar. Deeks was acting as bartender.
"They're here," Kensi's voice sounded in Callen's ear piece.
"Show time," he whispered taking a pull of his beer.
A moment later the door opened. Callen casually slid his eyes to the entrance as both Dylan and Zakhar sauntered into the bar. Dylan gave him a brief glance then turned his attention straight ahead. The two men went to a nearby table and sat down. They soon flagged a waitress to give their order. Zakhar was dressed in a suit; his long coat draped over the back of his chair. Dylan was dressed more casually in a button down shirt and jeans.
When their drinks arrived, Callen decided to give them a few minutes. He took another sip of his drink, draining the bottle, and then he counted backwards from one-hundred in Russian. After reaching number one he raised his hand to signal Deeks, "HEY BARKEEP! ANOTHER ROUND," he called out a little louder than necessary making sure the two men noticed him.
Deeks moved closer to where Callen was seated, a look of disapproval etched on his face, "Look dude, I think you've had enough. I'm cutting you off."
"Aw come on, I haven't had that mush…" he slurred moving his arm to knock over his bottle.
Deeks leaned forward placing his hands on top of the bar table, "You've had five. Why don't you go home and sleep it off."
"I thought bartenders were supposed to be friendly," Callen smirked patting the other man on the arm.
"Guess I'm not one of them. Now leave your keys and I'll call you a cab." Deeks growled, putting his face close to Callen's.
Callen backed up, sliding off the stool and giving a saucy salute, "Don't bother…only live a few blocks from here so I'll walk. Your bar is lame and the beer sucks anyway," he finished before stumbling to the exit and out the door.
Outside, the night was clear with a blanket of stars in the sky and a large crescent moon. Turning left he sauntered toward his car that was parked a block from the bar.
"They've left the bar and are tailing you." Kensi announced.
Callen made a show of stumbling down the sidewalk toward apartment complex. Coming to a darkened alleyway he stopped at the entrance and placed his hand on the side of the building and mimicked dry heaving. His ears picked up the sounds of footsteps coming closer. He moved into the alley that was dimly lit by an outside light attached to one of the buildings. Just beneath the light was a door that probably served as a back exit from the building. Moving toward the back of the alley where a large trash dumpster sat by the gate.
"Keller. Or should I say G. Callen," came a Russian accented voice behind him. Callen slowly turned around facing both Dylan and Bessonov. Callen stared at both men, noting that Bessonov with his pale face, colorless eyes and thin, bloodless lips was even uglier up close.
"W…what? I think you've got the wrong guy. Name's not Keller or…Callen was it? Never heard of those names before," he insisted backing up with hands raised until he made contact with the dumpster.
"How pathetic; we know who you are," Bessonov sneered producing a gun with a silencer from the pocket of his long overcoat and aiming it at Callen's chest.
"Wait…I have money…" Callen pleaded.
The gunman merely scoffed, "Поздоровайтесь с вашим Агентом подруги шлюхи Харрисом." (Say hello to your whore girlfriend Agent Harris.)
Callen's face twisted in rage, "You bastard!" he cried out as he started to lunge toward Zakhar. He heard a pop and the bullet hit him square in the chest propelling him backwards. He sank to the ground as the blood poured from his wound.
Dylan stepped forward, squatting down next to where Callen lay, placing two fingers on Callen's neck to find a pulse. He turned his eyes to Zakhar, "He's dead."
Zakhar's lips formed a cruel smile as he pulled his cell phone from his pants pocket. Pushing the required numbers in; he brought the phone to his ear. "It's done," Zakhar whispered to the person on the other end. Sliding the cell back into his pocket, he motioned to Dylan to follow him. Within minutes there was a blood curdling scream coming from the alleyway the two men had just vacated.
OPS:
"…the scene of a horrific murder earlier this evening. The body of a man was discovered in this ally with a single gunshot wound to the chest…"
Jordan stood next to a very much alive G Callen listening to the news reporter on the large screen; the other team members were milled around the room.
"This should convince him that I'm out of the picture. Good scream by the way Nell," Callen stated, glancing at the petite intelligence analyst.
Nell swiveled her seat around and smiled, "Thanks."
"What do we have on Denis Sokoloff, Eric" Callen asked, folding his arms across his chest.
"Denis Sokoloff, forty years old and CEO of a software company with offices both in California and in Russia. There were allegations of ties with the Russian mob but nothing ever proven." Eric stated bringing up a picture of Sokoloff on the smart board. He was a fair skinned round faced man, with small brown eyes, a large nose and very thin lips. His dark brown hair was slicked back and parted to the side.
"He also sponsors a non-profit youth organization called `Project Tomorrow' which helps newly immigrated Russian teens become acclimated to life in the United States." A picture of the group's flyer appeared on screen showing pictures of their members and the various services they provided-counseling; tutoring; activities such as computer training, or athletic activities like boxing or wrestling.
Sam moved a little closer to the screen; studying the image of the pamphlet, "`Project Tomorrow' huh? So there's nothing out of the ordinary with this organization?"
"None that I could find," Eric replied, pushing his glasses back up on top of his nose.
Callen's phone buzzed. Reaching into his pocket he pulled the phone out and glanced at the display screen. It was a single text that read `returning to Russia tomorrow.'
"Dylan and Bessonov are going back to Russia tomorrow," Callen announced to the group, "Any new activity with our friend Collingwood?"
Nell began pushing buttons on her tablet, "Wow…uh… Collingwood was found dead in his apartment yesterday afternoon from carbon monoxide poisoning from a broken gas line on the stove. Authorities believe the death was accidental."
Jordan turned the bit of information over in her mind for a moment, "Or made to look accidental," her eyes finding Callen's and seeing that he had the same thought.
"Now the only one left related to the case is Anton Polzin," Tom added, tapping his finger against his chin.
"Let's keep an eye out for him too…Jordan and I will fly out to Russia as soon as possible," Callen added.
"I agree the sooner the better," Hetty chimed in, "Mr. Manea, I trust you still have your pilot license."
Tom's lips parted to form a knowing smile, "Yes I do. My plane is also at the hanger just waiting to be flown."
Jordan turned to face her friend and former partner; her jaw dropping slightly in surprise, "I didn't know you had a plane!"
"Bought it about a year ago," Tom explained.
"Good. Ms. Blye you will also be accompanying them on this mission," Hetty added before turning her attention to Jordan, "Ms. Harris, are you familiar with the Russian language?"
"I've been studying it a bit."
"Let's hear something in Russian," Hetty replied; clasping her hands in front of herself.
"Я не быстр на языке все же. Но, это - то, что я имею в настоящее время." (I'm not fluent in the language yet. But, this is what I have at the moment.)
The corner of Hetty's mouth lifted in a slight smile, "Excellent. Your command of the language is most impressive."
"Thank you Hetty."
Hetty addressed the group again, "Goodnight everyone and safe journey to the four of you," she finished; turning her gaze to Callen, Jordan, Kensi and Tom.
When the room began to clear out, Callen noticed Hetty motioning for him to come to her.
"Something wrong, Hetty?" Callen asked when he reached her side.
"No, I just wanted to say good luck and be careful."
"Don't worry, we'll be fine and we'll find who started this mess," he smirked.
Hetty gave him a slight smirk of her own, "Of that I have no doubt." She was silent for a brief moment before continuing, "Ms. Harris's Russian is exceptional. You've taught her well."
Callen's brows rose in surprise.
"Her accent, sounds very much like yours," she finished, that slight smile still on her lips as she turned and headed for the exit.
Callen could only shake his head in amazement. Heading out of OPS; he spied Jordan and Sam talking with one another.
As if feeling Callen's presence; Sam turned his head, "Hey, partner," he called out as Callen moved closer to them. "What were you and Hetty talking about?"
"She just said to be careful and have a safe trip."
"Yeah, you guys get to go to Russia while I'm stuck with Deeks and Granger," Sam groused.
"Come on, Deeks is not that bad. Give him a chance," Jordan gently admonished.
"Granger on the other hand; I feel for you buddy," Callen smirked.
Sam rolled his eyes, "OK, I'll give Deeks a chance. But, if he gets on my nerves to much I'll send him to Russia without the benefit of a plane," he chuckled. Turning his attention to Jordan he turned serious, "Take care of yourselves out there and watch out for my partner."
"I promise to hand him back to you in one piece," she smiled.
Safe House:
Jordan flopped down on the couch with Callen sitting down next to her.
"Long day," she groaned, stretching out the kinks in her back.
Callen wrapped his hand around her fingers, "Very. Glad our little show worked."
"It sounded realistic. A little too realistic," she admitted with a wry grin, "It wasn't easy listening in on everything and then the gunshot."
Giving her fingers a gentle squeeze he leaned forward to plant a soft kiss on her lips, "Sorry you had to hear what that bastard said."
"Don't worry about it. I've been called worse," she chuckled.
"I uh… meant to tell you before; Sam knows and is happy for us."
"How do you feel about that? About other people knowing we're together?" Jordan asked; shifting around on the couch to face Callen.
"I'm fine with it," he grinned, gazing into her eyes, "What about you? You OK with it?"
A soft smile formed on her lips and her eyes sparkled, "More than OK."
Morning came and the team of Callen, Jordan, Kensi and Tom arrived at the hangar at ten o'clock sharp. All boarded the Cessna as Tom headed to the front of the plane as sat in the pilot's chair. Next to him was his co-pilot Paul Sommers.
Callen, Jordan and Kensi put their bags in the overhead compartments. Jordan was given clothes by Hetty with the strong stipulation that they be returned unharmed. Callen and Jordan sat next to each other with Jordan next to the window. Kinsey sat in the seat across from them reading the paper. As the plane began to taxi the runway and lifted up into the sky, Jordan looked out the window as the ground grew farther and farther away. She said a tiny prayer that this mission would be successful.
TBC:
Hope you all liked this chapter; it took me forever to write it. I may wait and see how season 5 goes before doing the next one. I want to follow cannon even though I know Jordan doesn't exist in cannon. Please review I love reviews.