Ch 16

"Understood," Sam ended the call with Deeks and turned to Kensi. "They've formally charged Callen and taken him to the local PD holding cell. Deeks said Callen wants us to find who's setting him up."

"Did he give us any clues where to start?" Kensi asked.

"Nope," Sam replied.

"Great. Let's hope Hetty can get those unredacted files then."

"Yeah, I told Deeks to head back to Ops and catch up with Hetty and the wonder twins." Sam glanced up at the apartment block and checked his cell. "Looks like this is Yegor Petrov's crib. Let's see how Callen recognises him."

Kensi followed Sam into the narrow entrance to the apartment block. The building blended into the surrounding area impeccably. The brown facade made the block look poor and run down. On closer inspection, bricks were chipped with what appeared to be bullet holes. The next door premise was a cheap liquor store and next to that was a drug store. Both were closed and securely fastened with rusting shutters.

"Nice part of town," Kensi commented as they walked along a dimly lit corridor, stopping when they reached number four. Both agents pulled their weapons and Sam knocked loudly at the door.

"Yo Petrov," he shouted. "Arkady sent me. Got a message for you."

Eric had earlier confirmed that Petrov's cell was in his apartment and hadn't moved for the last thirty minutes. A loud grunt could be heard from inside. Sam hid his gun from view and Kensi remained out of sight, her body pressed up against the wall.

"C'mon man, not got all day," Sam kept his voice loud and gruff.

"Da, wait," a heavily accented male voice answered.

The sound of a chain being removed and a key turning in the lock seemed to take forever until the door finally opened. Before it could open fully, Sam raised a large booted foot and kicked the door open. The sudden movement took Petrov by surprise and he stumbled back. As Sam moved out of the way Kensi quickly entered the room and trained her gun on the Russian, who was raising his hands in the hope that he would not get shot. Sam followed and closed the door behind him, gesturing to Petrov to sit on the sofa to his right while Kensi cleared each room.

Satisfied they were alone, Sam reached for his cell to find a picture of Callen. Waving it in Petrov's face he asked. "You know him?"

Petrov looked frightened. His eyes darted between Sam, Kensi and Callen's official NCIS photograph.

"Da, I have met him," he answered in an unsteady voice. "And you, I met you at same time. Why are you asking me this?"

"No, you met him before, years ago," Sam moved closer to Petrov and lowered his voice. "Now where did you first meet him?"

"I do not know. He said he knew me from somewhere..." Petrov narrowed his eyes as he calmed down and started thinking laterally. "You work with him. Who are you?"

Sam glanced away and sighed, withdrawing his ID he showed it to Petrov. "NCIS. I'm Agent Sam Hanna, this is Agent Kensi Blye. Now I've answered your question, tell me how you know him?"

Petrov suddenly relaxed his shoulders and slumped down into the soft cushions of his sofa. "Ok," he said in defeat. "I'm CIA."

All traces of a Russian accent disappeared with those words. Sam lowered his weapon slightly; Kensi kept her gun trained on Petrov.

"What d'ya mean, you're CIA?" Sam challenged. "What op you on? You working for Agent Bolton?"

"Who?" Petrov asked. "Never heard of an Agent Bolton. Look. My name's Karl Grigson and I've been undercover for thirteen months, infiltrating the Russian mafia to investigate illegal arms smuggling. My handler is Agent Robert Fraser. Two days ago I was invited to a meeting at the Langham and introduced to a Russian official, Boris Kozlov. Half way through the meeting your guy shows up. Next day Fraser contacts me and says he's been asked to hand over all footage from the meeting and wants me to write a report on it." Grigson paused and ran a hand through his black hair. "So this is all about Callen then? What's he done now?"

"So now you know him," Sam challenged. Before the undercover CIA agent could answer, he turned to Kensi. "Call Nell, get her to check out Grigson's story and this Agent Fraser."

Kensi nodded and holstered her gun, moving away to a corner of the room to make the call.

"How do you know Callen?" Sam asked. He remained standing and looked down on Grigson who was nervously playing with a loose thread on his shirt.

"I don't really know him but we were at Quantico at the same time. He was in the FBI Academy for new recruit training and I was doing the same with the DEA. Our paths barely crossed but he stood out. Y'know he was quiet, determined and – I dunno – a bit different from the others, he didn't quite fit in, had a bit of an edge about him. Look it was over twenty years ago and I've changed a lot in that time, especially for this op. So is he in trouble? I thought he was undercover, interested in laser weapons and ready to sell his services to the Russians in return." Grigson stared at Sam. "Are you telling me it wasn't an act and Callen's gone rogue?"

"He checks out," Kensi walked back over to join the two men. "And no, Callen has not gone rogue but the CIA's setting him up as a double agent. And your undercover op fits in very conveniently, don't you think?"

"That's bull and you know it. Why did your agent turn up at the Langham hotel that afternoon? I wasn't expecting him and he could've blown my cover – he nearly did." Grigson pushed himself off the sofa and stood face to face with the two NCIS agents. "Why would I risk over a year of this mission," Grigson waved his arm in front of his body and gestured to the small apartment. "Why would I place my life and career in danger?"

"What did you write in your report?" Sam ignored Grigson's questions. Callen did not blow his cover and probably enhanced it, judging by the tension he had witnessed between the two men. "I reported that a man I knew as Callen, who was trained as a Federal Agent twenty years ago showed up. He knew Arkady Kolcheck and Boris Kozlov, was asking questions about a kidnapped Marine and laser weapons and was making comments that could be interpreted that he was open to working with the mafia. My interpretation was those loose comments were to help him infiltrate the group to obtain further inside information for his case. And my recommendation was the CIA confirmed which agency Callen was with, validated his mission and possibly make them aware of our ongoing operation. If he was above board, the long term view was to share intel or maybe bring Callen in for a joint op."

"So how the hell did Bolton not mention this at all?" Kensi turned to Sam.

"I don't know. But I do think it's about time that Nell and Eric started looking into Bolton and the other agent. Find out why they're being selective with their intel."

"Maybe that's just the information they received? Someone could be tampering with evidence before it gets to them." Kensi suggested.

"I think we're done here," Sam said. "You let me know if anything changes. We'll get on to your handler for copies of your report and footage from the hotel."

Grigson nodded his head. "Let me know how it goes. Hope it all works out for y'all."

"Sure," Sam replied.

"Before we go," Kensi turned back from the door to Grigson. "What do you know about Marine Corporal Mason?"

"Ah yes," Grigson shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and looked rather sheepish. "The Russians are stealing laser weapon technology and kidnapped Mason to get to his uncle who has high level security clearance and is heavily involved in the development of laser warfare. He's also been pioneering the next generation of satellite imagery and Mason was meant to be leverage. Turns out there's a lot of bad blood between the two...I heard Boris gave Callen the address where Mason was being held, so I guess he's safe now?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "He's safe. We'll be in touch. If you need to reach us, you can use Arkady. Callen trusts him so I guess I do too."

Grigson nodded in understanding and followed the two agents to the door, closing and locking it behind them. He leaned back against the door and sighed; grateful the door could still lock after the NCIS agents forced entrance. His eyes swept the room and he thought that he'd better prepare for a quick exit from his mission – just in case. His cover may be safe for the moment but there was a chance he could be implicated if someone dug deep enough and found the connection between himself and Callen.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

LAPD Lock Up

Callen lay back on the hard wooden bench of his cell. Good to their word, the CIA had stripped him of his belt, shoes and watch and thoroughly searched his clothes for any hidden lock picks or bobbi pins. Thankfully they had allowed him to remain in his T shirt and jeans. He raised his head slightly to look at the three young men who occupied the adjacent cell. Callen smiled to himself. The men were clones of each other, with tattoos covering their arms from the wrists to the shoulders, revealed through their cut away T shirts, which complimented the dirty denim jeans that they wore slung low around the waist. All three had a closer hair cut than he did and between them sported two black eyes and a bloody nose. The third man sat slightly further away from the others and Callen observed his hands shaking. He quickly realised this was not from fear of his cell mates but from drugs. He was clearly coming down from some high; his eyes were wide and bright, and darting around nervously. Great, Callen thought. It would only be a matter of time before the three men kicked off. And as the clock in his head indicated it was about three in the afternoon, he realised he was in for a long night – unless the CIA dragged him out for another interrogation.

"What you staring at?" The druggie in the next cell had stood up and now had both hands round the bars that separated his cell from Callen's.

Callen sat up. "You," he answered shortly. The CIA had pissed him off and the last thing he needed was some punk trying to one up him.

"You wanna come here and say that?" Druggie's voice was shaky and he tried to hide it by shouting, which caught the attention of his cell mates.

"I could do but what's the point? I can say it from here. Unless you're deaf or somethin'."

"What d'ya say?" Druggie shook his head as he tried to make sense of Callen's words.

Callen slowly stood and walked over to the right side of his cell until he was just beyond arm's reach. He narrowed his eyes and looked at each of the three men. He then turned abruptly and walked back to his bench, lying down again, hands behind his head, focusing on the ceiling.

"What?" Druggie repeated himself, confused by the actions of the man in the next door cell. He let go of the bars and sat down on his own wooden bench. "What?" He asked of his companions.

"Looks like he's after a fight but is too chicken," answered his cell mate.

"Do ya' think this is 1985 and we're in Back to The Future?" Callen said sarcastically, without moving position.

"What?"

"Jeez you really are stupid...and deaf," Callen sat up again. "You as dumb as each other? All related inbreds? You all look the same."

This time, the taller, more muscular of the three men stood up and strode purposefully to the bars. "You be careful what you say to my brothers."

"Yeah man," the druggie added. "You tell him, Jake."

"Shut up Clint," Jake replied.

"Yeah Clint," Callen added. "Shut up."

"What's your problem?" Jake asked.

"I don't have a problem, your brother Clint does though. You getting him treatment or did you all get arrested so he could go cold turkey on the cheap in lock up?"

"I'll tell you what your problem is; you've got a big mouth that needs shutting. And we got arrested for fighting the East LA Gang," the third brother piped up, clearly proud that they were the only ones who received the beating and were arrested for their troubles. "What about you?"

Callen thought for a moment. As far as he was aware he was still an undercover federal agent, so candidly admitting he had been arrested on suspicion of spying was out of the question, although he doubted the three amigos would believe him anyway. A lesson he had learned a long time ago was that lying was often a safer option than telling the truth. He didn't really care about earning the respect of these men but figured he might as well have a little fun and list every crime he'd committed – the ones that if he weren't a Federal agent, he would have been imprisoned for long ago.

"Theft," he started with a basic crime.

Jake laughed. "You're picking a fight with us and you're a thief!"

"Yeah, anything from picking pockets to identity theft. That then moves into the crimes of fraud and hustling. And B & E."

"B& E is the same as theft – stupid," Jake replied sarcastically.

"Technically it's not," Callen corrected. "Hell, I'll just list all of my crimes shall I?" Without waiting for a response Callen reeled off a list of illegal activities he'd been involved with over the years; from violence, gun running and drug dealing all the way up to being a hit man. By the time Callen had finished, he was once again on his feet. He had changed his demeanour to that of a hardened career criminal and slowly approached Jake at the edge of his cell. Jake had unwittingly taken a step away from Callen as he realised that he and his brothers would be wise not to upset this man any more than they already had.

"But to answer your question, I'm only here due to a misunderstanding. They've got nothing on me."

"Yeah, sure..." the men continued to move back to the bench and sat down, avoiding any further eye contact with Callen.

Callen remained standing for a few minutes longer, smiling to himself. Hopefully that would ensure he had peace and quiet from the next door cell for a few hours at least. If his team couldn't release him and the CIA were finished interrogating him for the day, he reckoned he had until about 11pm until the police started picking up drunks, more drug offenders and prostitutes. Friday nights was always a blast for local LEOs. The CIA has promised him his own cell but there was no way the LAPD would play ball with that request.

An hour later, Callen was woken by a police officer calling his name. "Callen, wake up. Visitor."

Callen rubbed his hand over his eyes and automatically glanced at his wrist, swearing inwardly as he remembered he no longer had a watch. He stared up at the ceiling, forcing the officer to repeat himself.

"Callen, get up and walk to the cell door. Hold your hands out so I can cuff them before you see your lawyer."

Callen closed his eyes, sighed and then eased himself in to a sitting position. He expected to see Deeks but was surprised when he caught sight of Hetty. He walked to the cell door and held out his hands, which were duly cuffed.

"You know, you don't have to do that," Hetty advised the officer.

"Sorry ma'am, Callen here's been labelled a flight risk and danger to others,"

Callen raised his eyebrows, aware his neighbouring prisoners were listening to every word. At least it gave credibility to the list of criminal activities he gave to them earlier.

"Nonsense," Hetty responded. "Now open this cell and let me talk privately."

The officer ordered Callen to retreat to the rear of the cell. As soon as Callen complied, the officer pulled out a key and unlocked the cell door, opening it wide for Hetty to enter. She looked up quizzically.

"Sorry ma'am, all interview rooms are taken. It's the cell or nothing."

"Very well," Hetty replied.

When the officer had instructed Hetty she had ten minutes before he returned, she nodded in agreement and allowed herself to be locked in.

"So Mr Callen, why am I always bailing you out of some mess or another?" Hetty sat down next to her lead agent.

"That's not strictly true," Callen was offended that Hetty was already treating him like the errant child he had once been. "I am capable of looking after myself, although maybe not this time." Even he had to admit that he needed assistance with this situation.

"Yes, your colleagues are working on who's setting you up. The Russian connection with Petrov was interesting. It seems he's another man who is not as he seems. You recognised him as you trained together twenty years ago back East."

Callen nodded in understanding of Hetty's slightly cryptic words. He still couldn't place Petrov but the fact he was undercover with one of the Federal Agencies, and that Callen had once trained with him, started to set his mind at ease. "Are you sure he's not in on it?"

"He has been thoroughly checked and is all above board."

"Good. What else have you found?"

"Very little so far. We're pooling all our resources to work on Bolton & Fordham." Hetty lowered her voice so only Callen could hear. "It seems there is a discrepancy between the report Petrov passed the CIA of the events at the Langham Hotel with the Russians, and the version that Bolton hit you with."

"Great," Callen said sarcastically. "So nothing really."

"Yes Mr Callen, that is what I just said." Hetty now spoke at normal volume, having sensed a slight atmosphere between the occupants of the next cell and Callen. "I was very concerned that your records would be accessed, but I have the ear of a very senior judge and several Directors, as you well know. None of your records from childhood or beyond will be released under any circumstances. So I hope that allays some of your concerns."

Callen nodded again. He was fully aware that basic information on his childhood and youth had been disclosed to all the agencies he had worked for; it was part of the natural vetting process. And there was no doubt the CIA had access to his personnel files from all agencies. It had been his classified missions that were also causing him a concern. A number of those had been either black ops, politically sensitive or downright illegal. If unredacted versions became publically available, then his career would definitely be over. He doubted he could ever repay Hetty for whatever favours she had called in.

"Thank you," Callen said quietly. "What about the information on my father? It was Granger wasn't it?"

"Turns out Owen had an innocent conversation that he was assured would not go any further. He's twisting the screws on the East coast to find out who's talking."

"So when can I get out of here?" Callen asked Hetty, catching her with a determined stare.

"Unfortunately Mr Callen, I do not have the answer to that particular question. I would suggest you get your rest before your cell becomes home to the night crawlers of Los Angeles. And you might want to work on the art of conversation so as not to upset your new cell mates and of course your neighbours over there." Hetty waved her hand in the direction of the three brothers who were all trying not to pay attention to Callen and his diminutive lawyer.

"Don't suppose you have a spare bobbi pin you could just, maybe, drop on the floor for me?" Callen asked with a cheeky grin and a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Certainly not, Mr Callen. I will not be held responsible for you picking the locks of your cuffs and the cell door, as that will only lead to violence. Oh, and I really would prefer not to be locked up myself, for aiding and abetting a felon."

"Time's up," the police officer had returned after ten minutes as promised. "Stand to the rear of the cell," he ordered Callen.

With Callen standing safely at the back, Hetty was allowed out and Callen followed her with his eyes until she passed from his sight. Realising he was still in cuffs, he shouted after the officer. "Hey, you are coming back, right? You need to uncuff me."

"Yeah, I need to escort your visitor out and process some more prisoners. It's already shaping up to be a busy one," the officer called back. "Don't you go anywhere now."

Callen sat with his handcuffed wrists in front of him. Today had really not been one of his better days and he realised very much preferred being shot at, to one spent sitting in a cell in handcuffs.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

A/N: This chapter was written before 'Rage' aired and has not been edited since (typos excepted).

Skippy, thank you as ever for your reviews. I'm very much a Callen fan...and this is now about how Callen's name can be cleared.

To my guest French reviewer, thank you for your kind words.

Unfortunately I can't post chapters as regularly as I have done on other stories as I'm still writing this one and am only about two chapters ahead at the moment!