Last man standing Chapter 8, a ncis: los angeles fanfic

Thank you all for reading, following, favouriting and above all reviewing. Here's the last short chapter.

Thank you, ClaudiaRain, for beta-reading.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the recognizable characters, they all belong to Shane Brennan.

Chapter 8

Wednesday 24th, Prague

Constantin watched as five men stealthily breached the safe house in Prague. He laughed in his sleeve. They wouldn't find anything. He cleaned, left it, and he would never return – exactly as he was taught to.

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London

''I've sent an NCIS team stationed in Paris to Prague to search the safe house. It was empty, completely abandoned, no evidence left, I'm afraid to say,'' Hetty informed Sam and Callen.

Antony examined Callen before he was discharged and allowed to fly home. ''Haven't you lost track of all the languages you speak?'' Antony asked his patient. He was obviously in better mood and willing to talk a little.

''English, Spanish, German, Italian, French, Russian and a lot of dialects, Pashto, Czech, Romanian, Polish, Arabic... uhm... that's all.''

''That's a lot.''

''Doc, why did I use Czech first? And then German and French?''

''The last clear memory you had was probably from Prague. So when you woke up, you spoke Czech. You couldn't remember much, you had a concussion, but your brain probably recognized that languages are easy for you, so you tried this again and again.

Subconsciously, your main goal was to remember, and the languages helped. You wondered once why didn't you speak Russian or Romanian – and during our little game you told me that you came from the Black Sea. So you were right before you knew it,'' Antony clarified.

''You know a lot. Do you remember everything I've said?''

''Oh, not at all, if that's what is required,'' Antony replied carefully.

''You are learning the spy stuff very quickly,'' Callen noticed.

''I flew to Prague, I followed him to London,'' Sam quoted Callen.

''Nell and Eric had a hard time searching for you. We didn't even see how you left the house after you came from the beach. Being paranoid is one thing but how could you leave the country unnoticed?'' Sam asked with great interest.

''An alias,'' Callen revealed just as much as he had to.

''Nell and Eric checked all of them.''

''Michajl Sokolov, Russian lawyer, it seemed appropriate. I had this alias prepared just in case... You never know when such an alias comes in handy.''

''A spare frying pan comes in handy, yes, a teakettle, yes, a few hundred dollars, definitely. But I don't know anyone who has a few aliases prepared just in case... Except for you, of course.''

Friday 26, Los Angeles, ops

''Mr. Beale, Ms. Jones, what do you have?'' Hetty asked resolutely.

''We took the laptop to pieces, metaphorically speaking. We found some evidence about his criminal activities,'' Eric began.

''We've already informed the Czech and the Romanian police,'' Nell told Hetty.

''But there was nothing related to Callen. Only the photo of Sam and Kam,'' Eric continued. ''We were able to hack Comescu's e-mail. He received this photo from an unknown person by e-mail.''

"On the same day he authorized this payment to an account in Switzerland,'' Nell showed the evidence on the screen. ''Swiss banks don't cooperate, they won't tell us the identity of the account's owner.''

Eric had a more positive message: ''Fortunately, we don't need their cooperation. We read the whole electronic communication between the seller and Comescu. Comescu wanted leverage on Callen and then he wanted assurance that this photo would really work. The seller told him that this came from Keelson's archive. This was good enough for Comescu.''

''Keelson?'' Hetty couldn't hide her surprise.

Nell looked at both of them questioningly.

''A few years ago he sent someone to follow Callen. Then he tried to blackmail him. Callen shot him, he also found his sister, that's another story. Keelson had a huge archive filled with secrets of many, many people. He had one full box on Callen,'' Eric explained.

''The archive was destroyed by an explosion. Electronic data was deleted by a bug,'' Hetty added.

''We believed that Keelson's only accomplice was Carl Browning and he was murdered by Akbari... He had to have another accomplice. Find him now,'' Hetty ordered.

''The evidence is five year old, lists of phone calls, account statements, credit cards... But it looks like Browning was in contact with Sergej Murajev, a Russian ex-pat, suspected of blackmail and death threats, never convicted. Without Keelson's knowledge maybe they stole a backup of the electronic version of his archive. Or they copied some of the real documents...'' Nell explained.

''So Comescu contacted Murajev and got Callen's e-mail address and a photo of Sam. Well done, Eric, Ms Jones. We'll pay Mr. Murajev a visit soon.''

''We dug deep,'' Eric began.

''Really deep,'' Nell broke in.

''Yes, really deep. Ladies and gentlemen, I have the honor to tell you that Gracian Comescu was the last living Comescu,'' Eric announced.

''They are all dead,'' Nell confirmed.

''There's still Ilena Vadim in South America, Dracule's cousin,'' Callen said.

''You ruined my announcement. She's not a criminal and Comescus are criminals. All of them are dead,'' Eric rephrased.

Prague

''Pavel, there's a letter for you,'' Alžběta said to her son. He opened the letter.

''Dear Pavel,
if you read this letter, it means that we can't meet again. But don't be sad. We had a great time together. Now, I want to tell you a story. A story that started in WWII and I also want to tell you something about a little boy on the beach in Romania... Now, you have a great responsibility. I also want to pass a task on you. You are the last person who can successfully complete it...''