Chapter 9

Sam held open the heavy re-enforced wooden door, allowing Callen to enter The Mission first. He let the door swing closed behind him and followed Callen through the wide hallway until they reached the bull pen. Callen veered off to the right and headed for the coffee machine. Sam shook his head slightly, looked up towards Hetty's office and then back at his errant partner.

"Hetty, we're back," he called loudly.

Hetty raised her head and looked at Sam, a knowing smile passed her lips as she caught Sam's eye. Sam nodded his head in the direction of the coffee machine and took the few paces to his desk. Moving the chair back to allow room to manoeuvre, Sam sat down without so much as a glance in Callen's direction.

Callen meanwhile, hovered around the coffee area and deliberately took his time. He knew leaving his back to Hetty was risky and potentially dangerous, but he had no desire to speed up the process of getting his ass chewed for disobeying orders, having gone tactical without permission. Callen took a sip and grabbed a newspaper as he walked back to his desk. He was taking another sip when Hetty's voice broke through the calm of the bull pen.

"Mr Callen!"

Her voice was so sharp and sudden that Callen jumped and spilt his scalding drink over his hand. He tightened his lips and refrained from swearing.

"Hetty," he said graciously, wiping a wet hand on his jeans. "I didn't hear you."

"Obviously. I've booked in your physical assessment for nine sharp tomorrow morning. However I will also ask that they test your hearing as this appears to be the third time you haven't heard me in the last twenty-four hours."

Callen stared at Hetty, lost as to what she was referring.

"You really want to do this here, Mr Callen, rather than in my office? Very well. Firstly you clearly did not hear what I said about partaking in tactical operations with your team, secondly you clearly did not hear me say that I required you to return immediately to my office – as I find you lounging around, drinking coffee and reading newspapers. And thirdly, how could you not have heard me approach you just now?"

Hetty had not allowed Callen to get a word in edgeways and instead of appearing suitably contrite, he sighed deeply and looked into the distance before returning his gaze to focus on Hetty.

"Hetty-"

"My office, Mr Callen. Now." Hetty turned her back on Callen and walked towards her office.

Callen now looked at Sam, whose attention remained firmly on his laptop screen. He rolled his eyes, and clutching his coffee cup, followed Hetty to her office.

"Sit," Hetty ordered.

"Sorry," Callen said, going through the motions as he sat himself down in front of Hetty's desk.

"Yes," Hetty replied, not believing Callen's apology for one second. "Now there has been an interesting development in one of our more recent cases."

"What? Mason's kidnapping?" Callen was confused; he had heard nothing to the contrary from any member of his team or from Ops.

"He's being questioned in the boatshed and that case is causing me some concern, a concern which I believe is shared by the rest of the team. However just as worrying is the information which has come to light involving Anton Zevlos."

"Zevlos, the Romanian war criminal..?" Callen stopped short of saying 'Zevlos was the one we apprehended and handed off to the CIA, as they were incapable'. After all, his team had deliberately disobeyed Hetty's direct order and all three male field agents had earned a day's suspension.

"Yes that one, Mr Callen, another blip on your service record." Hetty paused for effect, which was not lost on Callen, who this time did manage look suitably contrite. "Further evidence has been uncovered by the CIA regarding the extent of Zevlos' human trafficking. It has been confirmed that he formalised Romania's human trafficking ring, creating false adoption papers for babies and children. A few of these children were sold to wealthy childless couples in the West, but most were sold to the forced labour or sex trades, and to be used as organ donors."

"But Hetty we already know that."

"Mr Callen, the additional evidence shows that Zevlos worked with the Comescu's during the 80s," Hetty explained patiently.

Callen sighed inwardly and wondered if he would ever be rid of that family. "So? We know the Comescu's were involved in people trafficking so it's logical the two were connected. And Amy and I were in the US by 1975..."

"But we have never known how you and your sister arrived in America, or why. Mr Callen, whilst following paper trails from Zevlos back to the Comescu's, the CIA found evidence dating back to 1974 which state you and Amy were sold by the Comescu family to a Canadian couple; a couple who were found murdered in their beds in America three years later. Subsequent investigations confirmed they were Russian sleeper agents."

"But we were in the system long before 1977, the papers must be wrong." Shock and confusion registered on Callen's face as a number of scenarios played through his mind, all of which contradicted the thoughts he had just verbalised.

"The murders can now be linked directly to the Comescu's. By all accounts the 'Canadian couple' Freddie and Grace Turner, were less than satisfied with their new children; the boy – you – refused to speak and Amy cried whenever you went out of her sight. The Turner's quickly realised you were both too problematic and approached the Comescu's for a refund. When that was not forthcoming the Turner's carried out their threat of abandoning you two at opposite ends of the country. You were found in Maine, just a short hop from the Canadian border. Your sister – was deposited in Los Angeles."

"And the authorities never connected one abandoned child in Maine, with one in California," Callen said, thinking out loud.

"Indeed, Amy had no idea of your whereabouts and your social services records state you didn't talk for almost six months."

"No," Callen said forcefully. "That can't be true. We know my father asked Reinhardt to keep track of us. How could he have done that if what you said is true?"

"There is another scenario, Mr Callen." Hetty hesitated. This theory was entirely her own and purely based on speculation and circumstance. "It won't make for easy listening and there are no facts to prove or disprove my theory."

"Go on," Callen said. He was reluctant to hear Hetty's private thoughts; although they can't have been any worse than the numerous scenarios he had created himself over the last forty years.

"Your mother was making plans for her and her family to escape Romania. In her call to me there was no mention of your father, Nikita Reznikov, but she was desperate to escape back home to America. That may have been because you father was already fleeing or had been arrested as a KGB traitor. Your father helped refugees escape to Western Europe. He would have had a network of contacts – probably even connections with the Comescu's." Hetty held up her hands to stop Callen from interrupting. "Please, hear me out...he most likely had a plan b, using the Comescu's as a backup should the CIA fail Clara. And by utilising his connections with the Comescu's, by simply telling them her name, your father inadvertently wrote your mother's death warrant."

Callen closed his eyes and rubbed his hands slowly over his face. He wondered whether Hetty had any more bombshells of information to detonate above his head. Her reasoning was logical, although there were a number of question marks around her theory. He opened his eyes and folded his arms defensively.

"Surely my father would have told my mom the Comescu's were plan b? Why did she not recognise their name?"

"I can only assume that your Grandmother never passed down that story."

"No," Callen shook his head. "That makes no sense at all. My grandmother was Roma, a gypsy. There is no way she would not have told my mom about the Comescu's. Blood feuds are part of Romani culture."

"Don't forget that after your Grandfather was murdered, your Grandmother fled to America with your mother. She wanted to escape Romania and the gypsy blood feud, so maybe she thought it best to not pass on that aspect of her family history," Hetty said gently. She did not have all the answers for Callen, but she had spent a long time analysing the information she had acquired over the years.

"OK," Callen sighed. "But surely my mom would have told her mom that she was going back to Romania,"

"Your Grandmother died before your mother received her assignment from the CIA. If my hypothesis is correct, then the Comescu's killed your mother and took you and your sister, saying they were helping your father."

"Even if that's what happened, I still don't get how Reinhardt found me," The more he heard, the more Callen was struggling to understand the scenarios Hetty had placed before him. Sure, some of them made sense, but when each scenario was placed in the linear narrative of his early life as he knew it, certain sections did not add up.

"Reinhardt owed his family's life to your father and was forever indebted to him. Reznikov must have made contact with Reinhardt to request he looked out for Clara and her family. In the 70s, the Comescu's would have had set shipping routes they routinely used, which your father would have known and told Reinhardt about. I believe he systematically searched records and newspapers before he discovered you were at the first children's home in South China, Maine. Have you ever considered how close to Canada your early homes were? South China is a four hour drive from the port of Saint John, a four and a half hour drive from Quebec City. You know it was two years before I found you, and I had more resources at my fingertips than Reinhardt. And by that time you'd already covered half of the North East America with your foster homes. You were well and truly in the system when the Comescu's exacted their revenge on the Russian sleeper agents. The Comescu's couldn't cover the entire United States looking for two young children, even if they were Callen's. But you realise it would've been much more difficult for Reinhardt to find you had the CIA extraction gone ahead; Clara would have been debriefed for weeks in some obscure safe house, especially after going to ground for so many years."

"Why were you instructed to abort?" Callen asked, although he suspected he knew the answer.

"I was never officially told," Hetty replied. "However, if the CIA had discovered that one of their assets had re-emerged after a six year disappearance, and had two children fathered by a Major in the KGB..."

"And if the CIA realised the extraction was due to take place in front of the home of known WWII war criminals..." Callen finished for Hetty. He looked up at her, uncertainty flashing across his face. "Even if half of that is true, all that time I must have spent with my sister crossing the Atlantic and with the Canadians," Callen paused. He clenched his jaw and looked Hetty in the eyes. "Why can't I remember my name?"

The plaintive question struck Hetty to the core, and she answered him tenderly. "I'm sure you know why. You witnessed your mother's murder, your father disappeared, you and your sister were shipped to Canada, probably confined in a shipping container, given new names by a strangle couple and then ripped from each other and abandoned in a foreign country. Within a short space of time, you were so traumatised that your young mind protected itself with a form of amnesia. The only other option is that you suffered a head injury –but the end result would be the same; amnesia."

Callen shook his head. Discoveries about his family in recent years had unlocked a few early memories but he still failed to understand why, all these years, he had no other recollections. With the exception of the single memory of Amy pushing him and his falling from a cart, he still could not remember his sister. His only memory of his mom was seeing her murdered. Of his father, there was nothing. Of the journey to Canada and the Russian sleeper agents he and Amy were sold to – nothing. Everything was a blank. His earliest constant memory was of his first home in Maine. He had been five years old.

"But I want to remember," Callen pushed back his chair and stood. He stared at Hetty with icy blue eyes and raised his voice in anger. "If my mind is protecting itself, then why the hell can I remember every single detail of every single day I was in foster care," he broke away from Hetty's gaze and turned his head towards the floor. "Do y'know there are times when I would gladly have given myself a head injury if I had known it would wipe out some of those memories."

"Mr Callen, the inner workings of the mind is still a great mystery to even those most advanced in the medical and scientific profession. Nate is due back later this afternoon and I strongly recommend that you and he have a chat."

Callen turned to face Hetty, again shaking his head. "And what good will that do," he said bitterly. "I still won't remember who I am or who my family was."

"Nate can help you in other ways," Hetty said. Callen was usually so matter-of-fact about his past. To witness him displaying so much bitterness and anger underlined how much he repressed his emotions on a day to day basis, and how much his search for the truth about himself meant. "You have just received shock news about your early childhood and Nate can help you work through that, and help with your anger management," Hetty realised she was now pushing Callen but sometimes the harsh truth was required.

"I do not have anger issues," Callen kept his voice low and quiet, unsure what game Hetty was now playing and certainly not appreciating her words.

"Mr Callen, you are not the only one on my team to have problems controlling their temper."

"Well focus your attention on Deeks, I'm fine," Callen said with an intuitive guess. "...and I'm not about to shoot anyone or beat them to death in anger," he added as an afterthought, thinking ironically that the only reason he wasn't about to do that was because he'd already killed all the Comescu's he possibly could.

"Your temper and attitude has a tendency to land you in trouble, Mr Callen," Hetty continued to speak calmly as she attempted to rationalise her stance on referring him to Nate.

Well maybe that's what's kept me alive all these years, otherwise I'd be in some mental institution, Callen thought. But then again maybe he had been in a way. He thought back to how the welfare state had at times tested his own sanity to the limits and bleakly wondered how he seemed so normal now – in comparison.

Hetty held Callen's gaze, daring him to contradict her. However without uttering another word, Callen turned his back on his Operations Manager and walked towards the exit.

"Bugger," Hetty muttered, watching her lead agent leave. Sometimes a few home truths helped people see sense, although she might have known that it would have an adverse effect on Callen. Hetty sighed and reached for her tea. She knew Callen liked to think that he was a man with simple needs, but she could just not comprehend why he did not recognise the layers of complexity that made up his character. She knew he needed time to digest the information she had given him, and that once again, Callen was going to try and sort through his problems on his own.