Ch 19
LAPD Lock Up
Harris left Callen alone in the interview room and the door had been locked behind him. Callen sat there with his head in his hands for about ten minutes, aware that anyone could be observing him from the mirrored window opposite. He closed his eyes and considered his options. A Federal prison was out of the question. Sure, he thought, he could survive in prison - for a while at least - but only if he were not there as himself. There was no way Harris would allow him to not use his real name and he could not rely on Hetty's influence to ensure he was incarcerated under an alias. So that meant his only option was to escape from LAPD. He had already managed to obtain a few small objects; a bobbi pin from one of the long haired inmates and paperclips that had been dropped on the floor. They would enable him to pick the lock on his handcuffs and probably the cell door, but he needed a weapon. Stealing a gun or a baton from a police officer would be a serious challenge and currently, Callen was not quite that desperate, but he may have to reconsider if an opportunity presented itself. Earlier, he had seen the shape of a pocket knife through the trousers of the officer who had escorted him to the room. Obtaining that knife was the best option so far, and to obtain it would require a lot of reliance on luck; namely that the same officer would escort him back to the cells and place himself within close proximity.
The door to the interview room opened and Officer Rudd entered. Callen suppressed a sigh of relief. It seemed that lady luck was smiling on him today. First Harris had visited. He was unsure whether Harris' presence meant he was the one behind Callen's current predicament. On the one hand, they had never like each other but Callen was fairly convinced he had not caused Harris that much pain to warrant the man destroying him now. On the other hand, Callen had never trusted Harris and his gut instinct told him that he was hiding something, and that Harris was somehow connected to Callen being labelled a traitor. Callen pushed the thought to one side and focused on his second stroke of luck; Officer Rudd was still on escort duty. Rudd was in his early fifties and Callen thought he must be waiting on retirement any day. Rudd wore wire-rimmed glasses and had a full head of greying hair. The first impression was that he was a caring and compassionate man. Callen observed a wedding ring on his left hand, and noticed a lethargy to his movements. It was time to use a tried and tested method, one which had always worked a treat when he was a kid. He doubted whether it would have the same emotional appeal now he was in his mid forties, but the con would still serve a purpose.
"C'mon," Rudd had said to Callen, who still had his head in his hands.
Callen shook his head slightly and muttered, "Give me a minute,"
Rudd moved closer to Callen. "C'mon son, not got all day,"
Callen moved his fingers slowly down from his hairline to his cheeks and turned to look at Rudd. "I just...I don't feel...just a..."
Rudd placed a hand on Callen's shoulder. "You OK?"
"Er, yeah..." Callen pushed back his chair from the table and stood up. He swayed a little and took a pace backwards, before stumbling forwards in to Rudd, his cuffed hands brushing past the police officer's pocket. Seconds later Callen had secured the pocket knife and Rudd was holding Callen up with two hands, gently easing him back into the chair.
"Sorry," Callen mumbled. "It's just the shock of Harris's words and... Can I have some water?"
"Sure you don't want to see the medic?"
Callen leaned forward, lowering his head. "Just water, I'll be fine in a minute."
"OK..." Rudd looked at the broken man in front of him. He had seen thousands of criminals, many of whom had acted in a similar way when the severity of their crimes and the realisation of their impending prison sentence finally hit home. He felt no pity for those who showed no remorse, but for those that did, the least he could do was treat them with a modicum of compassion. Rudd gave a final glance in Callen's direction and exited the room to find a glass of water.
Callen remained seated, fully immersing himself in the role of someone who felt physically sick about his crimes and impending punishment. His next move would have to be carefully timed and would probably involve seizing a window of opportunity made in a split second. Rudd returned with a glass of water and Callen milked his performance, taking slow slips until he had drank half.
"OK," he stood up and gave a pathetic smile of thanks to Rudd.
"Good, let's go," Rudd opened the door and led Callen down the whitewashed hallway towards the cells. As they approached a right turn in the corridor, Callen saw a man exiting a door and adjusting his fly, and he realised it must either be the restroom or the locker room. He instantly realised this was the moment he was looking for.
Just before they walked past, Callen raised his hands to his mouth. "I'm gonna be sick," he said and gently pushed past Rudd into the restroom, heading directly in to one of the stalls. Rudd reluctantly followed, placing one had on the stall door so Callen couldn't lock himself in. Not particularly wanting to witness a grown man throw up, Rudd turned his head away. From Callen's bent over position, he observed the reaction and moved instantly, throwing his shackled hands over Rudd's head, placing him in a choke hold. Seconds later Callen eased Rudd's unconscious body to the ground. He ran to the door and turned the lock to avoid any unwelcome guests and immediately set to work, patting down Rudd's pockets for the keys to the handcuffs.
Seconds later the cuffs dropped to the floor with a clang, and Callen left them there, glancing around the room. The windows were tiny trap doors and there was no chance of escaping through them; his only option was to walk out the front or back door of the station. Callen realised he would not get far dressed in the same clothes he had been wearing the previous day, and swapping clothes with Rudd was his only option. Working deftly, he muttered an apology to Rudd as he stripped him of his trousers, shirt, shoes, utility belt and weapons and donned the attire himself. The one item he was missing was a cap of any kind which would at least partially shield his face and a quick survey of the rest room confirmed there were no other clothes lying around.
He knew that either he or Rudd would soon be missed and that time was of the essence, so Callen dragged Rudd in to the stall and hoisted him into a sitting position, angling him so he wouldn't fall. He picked the cuffs from the floor and placed them round Rudd's wrists, his hands behind his back. Callen closed the stall door and flicked open the knife, inserting it into the lock so to fasten from the outside. With the second part of the mission accomplished in less than five minutes, Callen strode purposefully to the door and took a deep breath. Exhaling slowly he unlocked the door and confidently walked back down the hallway, past the interview room and out past the front desk.
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. .. .. ...
Boatshed: Downstairs Interrogation Room
Kensi pushed CIA Agent Jessica Bolton into the downstairs interrogation room of the boatshed with a little more force than was strictly necessary, causing Bolton to reach out to prevent herself from falling into the table.
"Sit down, that side," Kensi said forcefully, pointing to the criminal side of the table.
Bolton took a few seconds to compose herself, pulling her blouse and jacket flush against her body and smoothing her loose hair. She pulled out the chair and spoke in a calm and collected voice. "This is an absolute disgrace and if you think this stalling tactic will have any effect on your colleague's case, then you're gravely mistaken."
"This is not a stalling tactic," Deeks said, entering the room and closing the door behind him. "But I must just say what a pleasure it is to be in your company again under such different circumstances."
"Sit," Kensi repeated and Bolton finally sat down at the table; Deeks and Kensi took their places opposite.
"You know how this works..." Deeks started.
"Damned right I do," Bolton interrupted. "And I also know I'm free to leave whenever I like,"
"That's quite true, you're not under arrest yet, but we're after answers on a number of matters. Firstly, why you are so intent on setting up Agent Callen, secondly who you are working for, and then of course, there is also the murder of CIA Agent Grigson." Deeks fired the questions at Bolton without pausing to allow Kensi to observe her reactions closely.
Bolton furrowed her eyebrows as she heard she was to be questioned about a murder. This was certainly not what she expected and she hoped these agents weren't about to try and frame her. From what she had seen so far, this NCIS team would try anything to protect Agent Callen. "I don't know an Agent Grigson. And in answer to your other questions, I am merely doing my job without distractions, but I guess that is something you're not used to Detective Deeks?"
"Ooh that hurt. Am I a distraction Kensi?" Deeks asked, deliberately playing up to the part.
"All the time Deeks," Kensi replied. "Just look at you now. You should be concentrating on the case but instead you're distracting me by discussing with me about how you can be a distraction."
Bolton closed her eyes momentarily. She had thought that Detective Deeks and Agent Callen were bad enough together but now she was witnessing the rapport between these two she realised how effortlessly and frequently the distraction technique was used by this team to deliberately throw their suspect off track.
"Did she just distract me by throwing a question in my direction?" Deeks smiled, turning his attention back to Bolton. "Did you kill Agent Grigson?"
"What! No. I have no idea who he is," Bolton continued to protest her innocence.
Kensi pulled two photos of Grigson undercover as Petrov and placed them on the table. "Who is this?"
"Yes that's a Russian named Yvgor Petrov," she looked up at Kensi. "How is he connected to Grigson?"
"Have you ever met this man?" Kensi asked, ignoring Bolton's question.
"Yes Agent Fordham and I visited him at home yesterday as part of our investigation in to Callen's connections to the Russian mob."
"And how did that go?"
"He was a bit cagey, tried to find out what we knew about Callen. Apparently he only recognised him by appearance, not by name. And he seemed to be trying too hard to demonstrate his hatred of Callen. I think he's hiding something – maybe the two of them crossed paths in Russia years ago."
"Interesting, don't you think Kensi?" Deeks asked, turning to Kensi.
"Yes, I do believe she has some talent, after all she's right that Petrov was hiding something, and that he's crossed paths with Callen before…" Kensi replied to Deeks.
"What are you getting at?" Bolton asked, her eyes blazing. "If you're withholding evidence I'll have your badges."
"Oh, well in that case we'd better come clean," Deeks said with a straight face. "Ygor Petrov was really undercover CIA Agent Grigson and he recognised Callen from the FBI Academy, when they both attended over twenty years ago."
Jessica Bolton's mouth dropped open as she digested the information from NCIS. She and Fordham could be in the firing line for potentially blowing Grigson's cover without realising, indirectly leading to his murder. In addition, it was one less lead she now had to tie Callen to the Russian Mafia. She sighed and shook her head in frustration.
"Damn," she said. "We had no idea."
"But you secured footage from the hotel. Surely you were made aware of the undercover operation?"
"No, Petrov – Grigson was very convincing. Did you manage to question him?"
"Oh yes we did," Kensi said.
"And what did he reveal about Callen,"
Kensi smiled. If nothing else she had to admit this woman was single-mindedly focused on the task in hand; to prove Callen guilty. She wondered at which point Bolton would finally admit she was wrong.
"Grigson reported to his handler that he recognised a Federal Agent who turned up to the meeting unannounced, and he believed that Callen was playing a part in order to secure information. Grigson stated that Callen was pretending to be a disgruntled Fed who was willing to work for the Russians. That's what he fed that back to his handler and that is what is in his last official report."
Kensi watched the glint in Bolton's eye fade a little and took great satisfaction with such a small act of triumph on their part. To chip away at Bolton further, she fired the next question to the CIA Agent. "Why are you setting up Callen?"
Bolton sighed. She was covering the same ground already with these two and she had a feeling it was going to be a very long day. "I'm not setting anyone up. I'm following leads and evidence that have led to Callen being arrested."
"And who are you working for?" Kensi asked.
"The CIA. You've seen my badge and at least I'm not pretending to be someone I'm not," Bolton said sarcastically.
"No doubt that would be because you are no good at going undercover, unlike Grigson and Callen. I bet you like the rules too much," Deeks answered conversationally, looking directly at her.
"OK," Bolton held her hands up in defeat. "I am specifically working for and reporting directly to John Harris, Deputy Director of the Clandestine Service of the CIA."
Kensi flipped over pages of the file she held in her hand. Nell had managed to prep her and Deeks earlier with some basic information about Harris and this was the area with which they were really tasked with digging. Without looking up she said, "What's a deputy director doing, getting his hands so dirty with this investigation?"
Bolton shrugged. She had no answer to that question. She had worked in the Clandestine Service almost since starting with the CIA and Harris had always been around the chain of command.
"How long have you known Callen?" Deeks asked.
"I only met him at the start of this investigation," Bolton answered.
"OK, let me re-phrase that. How long have you known of Callen?"
Bolton sighed again. She was sure NCIS had read through her records and compared them to Callen's. "He was at the tail end of an undercover mission in Moscow in 1999. I was a field based intelligence analyst and was briefed on all our cases and personnel in Russia before I left the States. Callen was one of the agents in the field at the time but I never met him. He shipped out hours after I arrived."
"Did you come across his name again in Russia?"
"No, not when I was operational there."
"But you've come across his name since then," Kensi stated, reading between the lines.
"Look, whatever you believe or think of me, I am not on a witch hunt. I would never persecute a fellow agent on a whim or because someone asked or paid me to. In 1999 there was no comeback from his mission or the information he acquired and there was no other reason to doubt he was anything other than a loyal and very competent undercover agent."
"So what do you believe has changed?" Deeks asked. Bolton's statement seemed to hint there had been some game changer which had placed Callen in the firing line. "How did this investigation in to Callen start?"
"The CIA has received random pieces of chatter over the past fifteen years, about an American Federal Agent who's also working for the Russian's, specifically the FSB. There was talk this started during a CIA operation in Russia, and since that time, sensitive and classified information has slowly found its way to them. A number of missions have been compromised, weapons have been stolen and the Russian Mafia have become more powerful as a direct result. Some dates were passed to us, together with information that the double agent's past was sealed or classified. Details beyond that are sketchy but it gave us a timeframe and some background to work with. Callen was one of four names that came up as possibilities. And the more we dug in to his background and his history, the clearer it became that he was the prime suspect."
Kensi and Deeks looked at each other. This was the first serious piece of information they had received from Bolton. At least they know how and why the CIA was investigating Callen in the first place, however they were still no closer to absolving him.
"Tell me about your boss."
"John Harris? He's old school CIA. He relies on gut instinct but still wants the hard evidence in his hands before making a decision."
"Sounds like a very admirable man," Deeks said. "So why does he think Callen is guilty and the other three suspects aren't?"
"Well Detective," Bolton said sarcastically, cocking her head to the right. "It's called detecting, investigating and analysing evidence."
"Touché," Deeks smiled quickly, glancing at Kensi who rolled her eyes in despair. "Who else was on the list?"
"You'll have to ask Harris that question,"
"We will, but first tell me about Harris' connection with Callen."
"They worked together in the late 90s, Harris was Callen's handler for a number of CIA missions to Russia and the former Eastern Bloc. From the basic intel Harris gave me, Callen was difficult to manage but a very effective operator."
"Is that all?" Deeks asked. "For someone who worked closely with a man he believes to be a traitor that is very sketchy information, wouldn't you say Kens?"
"Harris kept it basic so as not to bias our investigation," Bolton pouted.
Kensi leant forward and placed her elbows on the table, glaring at Bolton. "Everything I'm hearing from you is very, very sketchy. You haven't given us anything solid. Our analysts are reviewing the CIA chatter as we speak and it seems like even your boss hasn't given you any evidence to go on - and he knows Callen."
"And that means that your actions are looking very suspicious," Deeks continued. "Very sketchy and very suspicious indeed."
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. ... ...
The Boatshed: Upstairs Interrogation Room
"Assistant Director Harris," Hetty said, observing the man who sat sweating in the upstairs interrogation room. She closed the door and walked to the vacant chair opposite Harris.
"Henrietta Lange," Harris replied, standing and offering Hetty his hand. "It's been too long."
Hetty accepted and shook his hand firmly, "Please, sit," she gestured as she also sat down.
"I would ask to what do I owe this honour, but I know exactly why I'm here - your Agent G Callen," Harris practically spat out the last words, displaying contempt for his former charge.
"Ah yes, for a moment I was fooled in to thinking we could have a civil conversation," Hetty said, shaking her head. "I need you to answer only one question and that is why are you framing Agent Callen?"
"I'm not framing anyone. He's guilty and will get what he deserves. But my question to you is why are you so intent in protecting your agent?" Harris leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his wide chest. The buttons on his white shirt were straining and Hetty prayed that one would not burst whilst she was in front of him.
"Mr Callen is a highly valued member of my team. He is innocent and as he is not in a position to fight, I am pursuing his cause on his behalf,"
Harris snorted with laughter. "You really expect me to believe that old horse shit, Hetty?
"You can call it whatever you like but I know damned well you've set up my agent and I'm very close to finding out why." Hetty stared at Harris who visibly flinched. He raised a hand to his collar, loosening his tie and unfastening the top button.
"I have hard evidence that Callen is a double agent, backed up with a stack of circumstantial evidence. I knew from the moment I laid eyes on him that the boy was trouble." Harris tried to stay resolute.
"That boy," Hetty replied, speaking slowly to emphasise the gravity of her words. "That boy has, over the twenty or so years of his professional life, developed into a highly respected Federal Agent. Granted, he can be a touch impulsive but he is fearlessly loyal to his team, his agency and his country. If I had any doubts about him or any member of my team, I would be conducting my own investigations."
"I find that hard to believe Hetty. It's well known that you form special bonds with your agents. You'd die to protect them before admitting you were wrong,"
"Don't you dare to presume you know me," Hetty said, slowly and deliberately. "I know all about your past relationship with Agent Callen. You two didn't exactly hit it off...Tell me about the accusation you made that Callen deliberately sabotaged an operation in the Ukraine and Romania?"
Harris stared open mouthed at Hetty. He was well aware of Hetty's reputation but he was unprepared for this. He closed his mouth and thought quickly. "I withdrew that allegation shortly after I made it and all records were destroyed."
"Clearly not," Hetty could tell Harris was riled. "Now tell me."
"I was Callen's handler for a ten month op in the Ukraine. It was fairly standard intelligence gathering on organised crime, political corruption and illegal weapons trading. Callen came to me with information about a joint human trafficking ring between two crime gangs in Ukraine and Romania. He refused to disclose his source and without hard facts I couldn't allow him to pursue that line when we had other priorities. Callen disobeyed and continued to investigate so I shut him down," Harris paused and smiled at Hetty. "And would you know it the very next day the op was blown. What I strange coincidence, I thought..."
"And that was your accusation, that Agent Callen compromised an entire operation as he didn't like your orders, and because you thought it a coincidence?"
"Yes, you have no idea what Callen was like. He came close to being fired more times than he knows, he could be very argumentative and hot-headed. I never put it past him to deliberately let something slip to the wrong person in anger or revenge...so I wrote my report to launch an official investigation. A week later it turned out a disgruntled member of the Ukraine Government had been the leak and so I withdrew my allegation."
"Hmm," considered Hetty. "Did Agent Callen know any of this?"
"I don't believe the investigation had even started, but if there are still records, maybe you could tell me?" Harris deflected.
"That's the official line but if I ask Mr Callen about this, what will his version be?"
"Look, I suspended him from the mission the day before it was blown. He then disappeared for several days and when he surfaced yes, I told him the whole operation had gone south and I advised him of my suspicions about him."
"Advised or confronted?" Hetty leaned forward, peering at Harris through the thick lenses of her spectacles. Harris did not respond. "But Callen was exonerated, so why do you believe he is guilty now?"
"Because Henrietta, the CIA have had a number of missions compromised in Russia and Eastern Europe since 1999. Chatter received two months ago revealed that the Ukrainian official was seen with Callen the day before the op was blown. Leaks of information coincide with Callen's visits to the area and loose descriptions are a match to him."
"Sounds like a lot of coincidences to me," Hetty said with conviction.
Harris slammed his palms on the table as he eventually lost his cool. "Now you listen to me little lady, Agent Callen is a bad apple. I'll bet he always has been and Lord knows how he was ever able to become an agent in the first place. The information received over the years and the recent surveillance confirm he is a traitor to the United States. He is a dangerous man, Ms Lange, mark my words."
Hetty sat back in her chair and listened to Harris' rant. Oh she had definitely riled him, she thought, and he had indeed revealed himself. He had revealed how passionately he hated Callen and that he had a deep desire for revenge. She was still unclear as to what exactly Callen might have done for Assistant Director Harris to obsessively place Callen under investigation over recent weeks and she sincerely hoped that Nell had discovered the missing link in this vendetta against her lead agent.
Hetty delicately moved her chair back and stood staring at Harris. "'Headcase Harris', that's what the field agents used to call you. As I recall the reason being that you had a talent for knowingly sending them into highly volatile situations and for not being trusted. I'm starting to see why..."
Harris was apoplectic. His face turned bright red as Hetty's words rammed home. Even the all-knowing Operations dwarf had heard his nickname, he thought. He bet Callen had told her about that and he suddenly feared what else Hetty knew or could possibly learn.
Hetty had her hand on the door handle and was reading the emotions run across Harris's face as if it were a kindergarten book. If he had been a cartoon character, steam would have been blowing out his ears.
"I think you'd better wait here until you calm down," she said and exited the room before Harris could respond, the door locking behind her.
Thanks for the continuing reviews etc. They are all much appreciated, especially as I have struggled with these latest chapters, and the ones that will now bring this story to its conclusion (but at least another two - four chapters to come).