A/N: Thanks to my reviewers SP SVU B, ChlollieRockz, Rebel Magnus, terken, evershort, and vampirefirl2009 wolfgirl77769; and thanks to sheerylynn for favoriting E.O aLL tHe WAY for adding this story to favorites.
Now, this takes us all the way to the prologue. It's a jam-packed action chapter, so strap in your seatbelts and get ready for the ride!
Chapter 8: One Hour Earlier
"Okay, G, comms are up," Sam said, fixing his earpiece in place. When he heard nothing but static, he tried again. "G, do you read me?"
Then the crackle of static cleared, and Callen's voice came through. "Yeah, I read you."
"Kensi?" Sam queried.
"Loud and clear, Sam," she replied.
"Deeks, you on?"
"On and ready," the liaison responded.
"Renko?"
"Present."
"Nate?"
Said operational psychologist turned in the passenger seat of the car they were sharing to give Sam a funny look.
"I need to check your link," Sam explained innocently.
"It's functional," Nate answered.
"G, did you hear him?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, I heard him. Eric, we good to go?"
"Camera angles up and running; backup in place; Ops standing by…" the technical operator replied. "Yep. We're good."
Sam quickly ran through their strategy in his head. Callen and Kensi were ready to enter the cosmetics store for the meet with Gordon; Sam and Nate were across the street, ready to go in at the slightest amount of trouble; Deeks and Renko were stationed in the back alley; and Eric, Nell, and Hetty were watching from Ops, as usual.
"You may commence, Mr. Callen," Hetty's voice said.
In response, Callen and Kensi, as Jacob and Alison Carmel, got out of their car and walked into the cosmetics store.
"Here we go." Renko's mutter was heard by everyone.
Sam knew the stakes had just gotten higher. It might have been low risk before, but it definitely wasn't now. But they'd all been in more potentially dangerous situations than this, and they'd made it through perfectly unscathed. So what was it about this op that unsettled him now?
"Callen?" Kensi's voice was soft, uncertain. She paused hesitantly by the entryway to what they affectionately called 'their' space. She hadn't expected to find her team leader – now her partner – alone by himself in the bullpen at this particular time.
Callen turned his head away so she wouldn't see the tears in his red eyes. She saw them anyway.
"G, have you been…crying?" she asked gently, slightly incredulously.
"No," he denied. She scoffed at the obvious lie as she walked closer.
"You're not fooling me," she told him. Slowly, she stretched out her arm and placed a tentative palm on his shoulder. They might not be on the best of terms right now – they might be arguing, and on fairly rocky ground – but Kensi Blye was not one to hold grudges when her friends needed her. And right now, even if he wouldn't admit it, she knew Callen needed someone to talk to.
"I'm fine, Kensi," Callen insisted, pulling away.
Kensi sighed exasperatedly. "G Callen, for once in your life, stop trying to lie to me and let me in."
"Are we going to start this again?" he asked with a hint of weariness.
"Callen," she said firmly, "I know we have our differences, but right now, you need a friend, and I'm willing to be just that – a friend. Not…whatever we were or are."
"Just a friend?" he questioned.
"Just a friend," she affirmed. She sat, uninvited, on his desk. "So, as a friend, I'm asking: what's the matter?"
"As a friend, can I say no?" Callen countered.
Kensi fixed him with a stare. "Callen…" she said warningly.
He sighed. "Hetty's back," he said.
Kensi raised an eyebrow. "While that is very interesting news that I'm sure everyone would love to know, I have to ask how this relates to you sitting here, alone, in the dark, with tears in your eyes."
Callen exhaled. "She told me about my mother," he answered softly.
Kensi's gaze softened as understanding sank in. "Oh, G," she sighed. "Did you get the answers you were looking for?"
"Some of them," he replied. He looked quizzically at her. "You don't seem surprised that Hetty knew my mother."
Kensi shrugged. "It's not exactly news to me, Callen. I suspected, after Prague."
"You really are an exceptional agent," he commented. She smiled, accepting the compliment, enjoying the warmth that was currently missing in their relationship. Callen's sharing had brought some of what she loved most about their connection back into their lives.
"What did she tell you?" she asked.
"Everything she knew," he replied.
"Knowing Hetty, that must have been a lot," Kensi said light-heartedly.
However, Callen didn't chuckle. He merely replied, "Yeah. It was."
Kensi hesitated, wary of the bitterness in his tone, before asking her next question. "What was her name?"
"Clara." Callen spoke the name with a deep sadness – but also a profound sense of comfort and love. After all his years of searching, he finally had some closure – some connection to his past, his family – even if it had also brought him pain. "Her name was Clara."
"She loved you." It wasn't a question.
"She did," he agreed.
"Do you remember her?"
"A little. Hetty gave me a photo, and it brought up some old memories. She had black hair, fair skin. Her eyes were blue, like mine."
"What did she call you?"
"I don't know." The bitter tone was back. "She was on an undercover assignment in Romania for the CIA. Hetty was her handler. But she disappeared for six years. When she finally resurfaced, she was killed before she could get out of the country." He exhaled. "Hetty never even knew she had children until after she died."
Kensi remained quiet, offering him sympathy in her silence.
"I'm sorry."
Callen sighed. "So am I, Kensi. So am I."
Kensi sighed too as she stood up. Somehow, she sensed that Callen was done talking. The magic of the moment had passed; reality had returned. There were still unresolved issues between her and Callen, and they couldn't fully repair their relationship until those were sorted out. "See you tomorrow, Callen." She started to walk away.
"Hey, Kensi," he called after her. She half-turned, her eyes questioning.
"This morning, when you said you wanted us to open up to each other to make this partnership work, you had a look on your face…what did it mean?"
Kensi immediately threw up her guard, her walls surrounding her. She exhaled as she felt the final vestiges of the spell of the moment shatter and dissipate. "Goodnight, Callen," she said with finality, walking away.
Callen frowned after her, momentarily forgetting his tumultuous emotions in his puzzlement at her reaction. His stomach tightened slightly at the thought of there being more tragedies in Kensi's life besides the ones she had already told him.
He convinced himself it was no business of his; their relationship was over – now they just had to find some semblance of the friendship they used to share to settle into until they reached the point where it no longer hurt.
This was why he didn't – or shouldn't – date law enforcement.
Sighing, he straightened his desk before leaving the office.
The string of bells over the door tinkled softly as Callen and Kensi entered the air-conditioned store.
"Cute," Kensi commented.
"Jake! Allie! Welcome!" Gordon greeted expansively, coming out to meet them.
"Nicknames?" Callen inquired with a raised eyebrow.
"Well, we're all friends now, aren't we?"
Kensi stepped closer to Callen on the pretext of taking his hand. Gordon was being entirely too jovial for her comfort.
"So, where's your friend?" Callen asked, looking all over.
"He's at the factory."
"The factory?" Kensi repeated.
"Yeah." Gordon lowered his voice. "See, this store is just our front – a place for customers to buy our product, if you get what I mean. They can purchase their goods as makeup and lotions."
"What about people who don't want to buy the product?" Kensi wanted to know.
"Well, we've got samples of the real thing to give them. It's quite profitable, actually."
"So…do you have our product?" Callen questioned.
Gordon coughed as he edged closer. "Not here," he said. "The truth is, I asked you to meet me here so we could take my car to the factory for the meet. This is to throw off anyone who might have followed you here." Kensi started to protest, but Gordon cut her off. "Unlikely, I know – but my business is a little outside the law. It's harmless, really – but the cops don't see it that way. Of course," he added, "if you tell anyone, that means no more contact, and you could get into some trouble – especially since I'll deny even knowing you." His tone was light, pleasant even, but there was no mistaking the veiled threat in it.
"Okay…" Callen put on a show of looking hesitant. "So where's your factory?"
"Follow me," Gordon beckoned, leading them to the back of the store.
"Shit," Deeks swore. "This wasn't on the agenda."
"We're gonna be out of position," Nate agreed.
"Eric, what type of car is Gordon driving?" Sam queried.
"It's a silver Volvo," Eric replied. "It's pulling out of the alley now."
"We're up," said Renko, revving the engine. "Sam, I'll tail them. You follow me."
"Got it," Sam agreed.
"Let's go." Renko steered the car out of parking mode.
Fifteen minutes later, Gordon pulled up at a rural cosmetics factory by the beach.
"Come on," he said, killing the engine. "Let's go."
"This is where you…keep your stock?" Kensi asked, climbing out of the car.
"Something like that," Gordon confessed, locking the door.
The three of them made their way to the somewhat run-down building; they were met at the entrance by a burly, bearded man with dark eyes. Following the man were several others – all members of the same drug ring.
"Jacob, Alison, meet Harvey Simmons…my boss," Gordon introduced. "Harv, this is the couple I was telling you about." Leaning towards the two agents, he added, "Harv's the one you'll have to deal with if this goes south. He's not as nice as I am."
The threat was no longer veiled. Callen and Kensi gulped to play up their characters' fear, while they concealed their surprise at Gordon introducing Simmons as his 'boss'. Apparently Gordon was not the real chief here – Simmons was. Gordon was just a decoy.
They both heard Sam telling Eric to run a search on Simmons, and they both heard Eric's reply.
"Bingo. The twenty thousand in Cross' account was wired to him from Simmons after a series of emails about the hit on Campbell."
"This is big," Nell's voice intruded. "There must be twelve, thirteen drug dealers with you in there."
Harvey Simmons stared at them impassively, noting the anxiety they were expertly radiating.
"You're nervous," he observed. "Good. Means you'll be less likely to rat on us."
"We wouldn't, sir," Kensi lied, imbuing her voice skillfully with just the right touch of terror.
"You'd better not." Simmons switched track. "I understand you need some cocaine for your niece."
"Yes, sir," Callen admitted. "She's an addict, and we're trying to wean her off slowly."
"Gordon told you the deal?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Follow me."
He led them to a supply room in the back of the building – followed by his entire posse – and pulled out a package of white powder from one of the boxes stacked there. Tossing it to Callen, he said, "There you go. Five kg's of pure, high-grade cocaine. Should be enough for your niece."
"Well done, Mr. Callen, Miss Blye," Hetty's voice spoke in their ears. "We have the proof we need. Now buy the drugs and get out of there."
Callen counted out the money Hetty had given him for this purpose and handed it to Simmons. When the drug lord nodded approvingly, Callen took it as his cue to leave.
"Well, thanks," he said, slinging an arm around Kensi's waist. "I guess we'll just be going now. Gordon, you mind taking us back to the store?"
"Not so fast," Gordon said. "I told you if this went wrong, you'd have Simmons to deal with, didn't I?"
"What do you mean?" Kensi asked, even as Simmons stepped closer, threateningly. The other men strategically spread out and surrounded them in a tight circle. Kensi's heart sank. This was going wrong, very wrong.
"What he means," Simmons explained, "is that you are not going anywhere, because you're going to sell us out the moment you leave."
"Crap, we gotta go in," said Deeks, halfway reaching for the door handle. Renko's arm shot out to restrain him.
"Not yet," he warned. "They haven't said the distress word."
"Screw the distress word!" Deeks exclaimed. "They've been made!"
"Callen and Kensi can handle themselves," Renko disagreed.
"They're unarmed, outnumbered, outgunned, and in the company of nearly fifteen dangerous drug dealers," Deeks pointed out. "Not to mention all the problems they've had lately. You really wanna risk it?"
"What problems?" Renko asked.
Deeks immediately clammed up. He'd forgotten Renko didn't know about the strain in the two agents' relationship. "I – forget it. I'm saying we have to go in now."
"And I'm saying we wait," said Renko, "at least for a while. Sam, what do you think?"
There was a short silence over the comm as Sam contemplated this.
"Middle ground," the ex-SEAL decided finally. "We'll get out and position ourselves outside, but we don't go in yet. G and Kensi might still talk their way out. They're good that way."
"All right," Renko agreed. He opened his door. "Coming, Deeks?"
"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid we don't know what you're talking about," Callen lied smoothly, playing up nervousness.
Gordon snorted. "Right." Simultaneously, he and Simmons pulled out guns, to exclamations of shock and surprise on the 'Carmels'' part. "Let's try that again," he suggested, as the other drug dealers followed suit.
"G, you want us to come in?" Sam's concerned voice inquired.
"Let's not be hasty," Callen said, choosing his words carefully; Gordon and Simmons thought he was talking to them, but Sam knew he was telling him not to come in yet. "Look, we gave you our word that we aren't going to tell anyone."
"Sorry, can't take you at your word," Gordon said conversationally.
"Why not?" Kensi squeaked, making her voice high and fearful.
"Because," he answered, "I drove by Hollywood Boulevard yesterday and what do I see? I see Jake here" – he used his gun to point – "talking to a big, bald guy – and then I see that same big, bald guy in a car outside the store earlier today."
Kensi's heart jumped in her chest. There was no way they were talking their way out of this one. Beside her, Callen stiffened, silently berating himself for not being more careful, for not insisting that he and Sam wait before talking about Kensi.
Over the comm link, Sam had had enough – he'd given the order to go in.
"Twenty seconds, G," the big agent assured his partner. The words varied in tone and quality, so they knew he was on the move. Kensi didn't allow herself any form of relief, however. Twenty seconds was more than enough time to fire a gun.
Gordon was still talking; his voice had lowered to a near-whisper, taking on a menacing edge.
"I told you it would be bad for you if this went wrong, remember?" he reminded them for what must have been the third time that afternoon. "And unlike you, I'm a man of my word."
Without any prodding, merciless in his lack of hesitation, Harvey Simmons raised his Sig Sauer and fired a shot that froze all who heard it.
The second shot, seconds later, unfroze them and had them all rushing around; banging the door in, rushing in with their guns raised, announcing their presence, as per protocol.
The next flurry of shots – too many to count – were all part of the ensuing firefight.
When silence finally reigned again, the inevitable made itself known, painfully, insistently.
Their agent, riddled with two bleeding gunshot wounds, lying prone on the floor.
The nightmare was indisputable.
A/N: Right now you guys are probably complaining bitterly about how evil I am for STILL not revealing who it was who got shot - because I know most of you were expecting to find out today. But there's really no need to kill me - honest! - 'cause the answer you've all been waiting for will be revealed tomorrow, that I promise.
This chapter alludes mostly to Season 3 episodes Lange, H. (Episode 1), Backstopped (Episode 3), and Deadline (Episode 4) - but there are also tiny references to Season 2's Familia.