Disclaimer: I don't own any of the recognizable characters, they all belong to Shane Brennan.
My biggest thank you to ClaudiaRain for beta-reading.
Chapter 2
Monday 15th
The photo of a tall muscular man with dimples on his face lifting a lovely little girl into the air served as a lure in his revenge plan. A very expensive lure, but he could afford to pay the price for it and for Callen's e-mail address.
The illegal business of his family still functioned albeit to a smaller extent.
Well, familie, most of the business was now led by the associates of his family. The massacre in the beach house in Romania four years ago hit his family very hard. Further encounters with law enforcement – for instance NCIS or Hawaii 5-0 - didn't help either.
He had found the person who was to blame. He had never met Special Agent G Callen personally but now he was prepared.
When the little old witch and Callen's team attacked their house in Prague he was in a gym. Quite ironically because he didn't exercise or work out regularly. He had always been more interested in other activities he could enjoy. But the visit to the gym saved his life.
His brother didn't have such luck. He was shot. Aunt Alexa was furious, she wanted to get revenge, but before he arrived to Romania and could help his family, he heard that most of them were murdered.
In four years he had lost aunt Alexa, Vasile, Dracule, Vlad and many others, plus the illusion of Ilena.
But he had gained something, too – self-confidence, trust in his own abilities, knowledge of tactics, toughness, cynicism and some muscles. And he was ready to use everything in order to get even with Special Agent G Callen.
Gracian Comescu looked at the photo one last time, copied it on a flash drive and clicked on send. His mission began.
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The ocean was cool, chilly maybe. The water woke up Callen's senses. He heard every noise, perceived every change. He was on alert. Paradoxically he was relaxed at the same time because he was in control, nothing could surprise him here.
After a while he decided to swim back to the beach and go home. When he emerged from the ocean, he suddenly felt the urge to run across the beach just to be quickly somewhere else, anywhere else, just not there. He was cold and absolutely alone on the beach.
In this moment he remembered, vividly, how he had been on the beach in Romania, the sun had been shining, he had been making sandcastles and his mother had been shot. Back then he, too, had felt so horribly alone and cold inside.
He tightly squeezed his gun and hurried up, he was almost running. ''No, it's crazy. Everything is ok. It's just a damn beach, one of numerous beaches in California. I can't be afraid of beaches. That would even trump Sam's fear of clowns. It's just a beach,'' Callen tried to convince himself.
Deep breath. ''I'm calm,'' he repeated a few times aloud. ''It was about time, otherwise the legends about my paranoia could become real,'' Callen thought sarcastically.
When Callen arrived home, he wanted to continue playing the unfinished game of chess on his computer. He just routinely checked his e-mail, deleted a few unwanted advertisements and briefly registered new guidelines from work – this could wait.
Callen's attention grabbed an e-mail with a subject written in Czech, it said 'Invitation to Prague, life or death?' –'Pozvánka do Prahy, život nebo smrt?'
He clicked on the e-mail. The message was completely empty. Callen clicked on the attachment and immediately saw a photo. ''Sam,'' he almost shouted. ''And Kam,'' he added alarmed. ''Comescu,'' was the third name, and Callen pronounced it grimly.
Callen carefully looked at the photo again and read a message in small print: I'm sure you'll come and won't inform anyone because you want them to stay alive.
In fact, Comescu didn't have to add this message to the photo. Callen was absent-mindedly packing a backpack and didn't even think about informing anyone about it. He wanted to deal with Comescu alone and to end the pointless blood feud. And above all he needed to keep Sam and his family safe.
Callen was quickly going through a pile of ID cards, credit cards, driving licences... "Michajl Sokolov. Nobody would notice it. A Russian lawyer flying from America to the Czech Republic. Perfect cover," Callen muttered. He bought an air ticket to Prague – Václav Havel Airport, copied the photo on a flash drive and left the house. When he was far enough from his house, he took a cab. And then another.
If Callen paid closer attention to the photo he would notice that it was taken at least four or five years ago, Kamran was almost a baby there...
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Tuesday 16th
Gracian Comescu checked his guns for the third time. An older man approached him: ''Everything is alright. We are ready.'' He gestured at a row of big armed men.
''Gracian, calm down, you don't have to worry. It's our usual business. He comes, gives us the goods, we give him money, they beat him, shoot him, hide the body... We move on,'' the man said calmly.
''It's not that easy, Constantin,'' Comescu replied.
All the men believed that today was just a normal day, that they would rob a trusting businessman of his goods and instead of paying him, they would murder him.
But the men, who were paid for doing and not thinking, sensed that today was something different. It didn't have much to do with thinking, it was just instinct. Instinct that was much needed in their dangerous games. However, it was something Comescu didn't take into account while planning this scenario.
''What's not so easy?'' one of the armed men, clearly their leader and spokesman, asked roughly.
Comescu didn't say anything.
''Who's the businessman, is there a problem?'' the gunman asked even more harshly.
Comescu lost his temper: ''Yes, there is a problem. Shut up. He murdered my family!''
''Ok, and we'll kill him,'' the rough man said laconically and everything would go according to Comescu's plan...
But Constantin, Comescu's trusted co-worker, familiar with most of his affairs, yelled: ''You want to... You want to kill him? Kill the American? You are crazy! He's an agent. You don't remember? They will find us. They will kill us. Just like they killed Dracule and Doamnă Alexa*. You can't, you can't! That's insane,'' Constantin seized Comescu by the collar and was almost shaking him.
Comescu quickly calmed down, he needed his plan to function. ''For you it's just business as usual.''
''Yeah, he's got goods to sell,'' Constantin ironically answered.
''Without the goods part. You all get your commission though,'' Comescu retorted.
The eight armed men discussed the situation heatedly. ''We can't do that. Killing naïve Czech businessmen is one thing, but an American agent? It's too dangerous. They will find us. They'll know it was you,'' the spokesman of the group announced.
''Nonsense. America's not as almighty as you think. It's on the other side of the world! They'll certainly send only a small team to investigate. What's the death of one agent? Besides, before we return to the business here, you'll go on a short vacation to Romania and I'll visit London,'' Comescu showed them an airplane ticket as if this could change their decision.
''No, when you solve your situation, we can continue in our successful cooperation,'' the men stated and then they left.
''Gracian, you know that I like you, you are like my son, but this is a mistake. You should forget, not seek revenge. You know how much trouble and sadness it has already brought to us. Don't do it, that's the only thing I can tell you,'' Constantin said sadly.
''So you won't help me?'' Comescu challenged him.
''Gracian, please, you have to understand me... I'll pray for you.''
''I don't need your help, if you don't want to offer it. I am a Comescu. I can do it alone,'' he shouted.
He was alone in their house in the center of Prague. His plan failed but he wouldn't give up. He was the only Comescu that could finish what had begun in WWII.
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Somewhere on his way to the airport Callen began thinking rationally again. No doubt, a Comescu or Comescus were behind this e-mail and threat. He had to take this seriously. The Comescu family were some of the worst criminals he had ever met, which meant he had to make sure personally that Sam and his family were safe and would stay that way.
Callen couldn't call Sam just out of the blue. He never called him when they had holidays and especially not when he knew that Sam was with his family. Sam would also immediately get suspicious.
It wasn't very difficult for Callen to make a few phone calls and find out that Sam was safely enjoying time with Michelle, Kam and Aiden in a hotel in New York. Both Sam and Michelle were exceptional agents, so Callen was almost sure that there was no immediate danger. But he couldn't risk not going to Prague. Something would happen there. Another threat, blackmail, a trap... He had to stay focused and concentrate.
His plane landed safely in Prague. Callen had been in Prague several times, always on business. Despite this he managed to notice the exceptional beauty of the city. The panorama with the castle, the Vltava river, the Charles bridge with statues from the Middle Ages, the baroque St. Nicholas church with a green cupola...
Today, Callen wasn't wasting time. He would never forgive himself should something happen to Sam or his family. He needed a gun, ammunition and a knife. He knew where to buy these, he also knew where to find Comescu. He remembered their safe house in detail. He didn't even consider the possibility that someone else might have been behind the threat. His instinct was always right.
* doamnă (Romanian) = madame
If anyone wondered what the Czech tongue-twister (chapter 1) meant: Třistatřicettři stříbrných stříkaček (stříkalo přes třistatřicettři stříbrných řek) - 333 silver fire engines (sprayed water across 333 silver rivers).
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