Hetty looked at the confusion on the poor boy's face, what was he?
No child should have to ask that question.
She held out her hand and G looked over at it. Sighing she beckoned him to follow her.
He looked over at Sam who nodded encouragingly, realizing that he had his new masters permission he followed her.
Sam followed behind, not able to understand the conversation between the pair of them, but hoping to offer moral support.
Hetty sat on a couch and tapped the space beside her for G to sit down.
Automatically he looked to the floor for a space to sit, but as she patted the couch, again, he nodded, and he sat beside her, his hands in his lap awaiting his next set of instructions.
"G…Can you tell me what you think you are?" she asked in Romani.
G nodded slowly. "I am the masters property, I am the lowest of the low, I was born to a Callen…Callen's are murderers and it is my place to pay the price for being born to an evil woman."
Hetty looked uncomfortable as she shot a look of sadness to Sam who had straightened up upon hearing the word Callen spoken with such venom.
"Who is your master?" She asked.
G looked from her to Sam. Was this a trick?
He started breathing faster and recognizing that he was going to upset them he focused for a moment.
He spoke quietly, but the room was so quiet his voice was clear.
"My Master was Yoska Comescu, and he has been my master since I was born. I belonged to him, I displeased him somehow and my trainer told me I was to leave, so he threw me overboard, gave me the letter and told me to swim to the shore. I was told to ask for you, I was taught from birth your name, and those English words. So…I think…Maybe you are my mistress now?"
"You are in America now," Hetty told him, "There are no Masters or Slaves here."
Callen looked at her confused, "But…there are…" he insisted, he had met American Masters who had had business with his Master before, "There was a girl, she had a long name, her Master called her Missy, but I don't think that was her name. She was about the same age as me, I was twelve." He sighed, "She was from America, she had the same accent as her master, and my Master said she was from America, my Master never lies to me." He said with absolute conviction.
Hetty realized that this one conversation was not going to change the boy's mind, but she filed the information he had given her away for later.
"Here in this house…there are no Masters, this is my home…Sam…the man behind you is staying with me as he was married to my daughter," she stopped for a second as her throat closed, "She died, she was Sam's wife…She was your sister." She told him, "That makes you family."
He blinked at her…his mind whirling, He knew of sisters, his Master had a sister and he had had to obey everything she said. "How? She was a Callen, was she your slave then?" he asked.
Hetty shook her head, "No she was my daughter, my child…I adopted her when she was six and she grew up with me,"
G was confused, "But Callen's are slaves," he insisted.
Hetty humphed, "No, Callen's are not slaves, no more than Sam or I am."
"I'm…not…a…slave?" G asked again, "But you're not going to kill me…are you?"
"Goodness me no!" Hetty said in English causing Sam to once again, focus on the pair of them.
G flinched; he knew by the tone that he had upset the woman, "Der'mo! Mne zhal'!" [Shit, I'm sorry!] He said and Hetty stopped in surprise.
"You speak Russian?" She asked.
G Nodded, "My trainer was Russian; he raised me until I was old enough for my Master."
"Will you learn English?" she asked him.
"If is it your wish Mistress." He answered automatically.
"No…remember G, not a slave, you get to choose." She reminded him.
G smiled, "I get to choose…for myself?" he looked over at her and she nodded, "Then I would very much like to learn English…and …could I…I mean…I've always wanted to…to learn to read." He gulped afraid he had overstepped the rules but she smiled wider.
"Of course you can," she replied.
Hetty turned to Sam, "Mr. Callen is going to learn English and he would like to learn to read." She smiled.
Callen felt a strange warmth in his chest as both adults turned and smiled happily at him, not because he had done something they wanted him to do, not with the cold smile that his master usually gave him, but a warm smile because they were happy and he had chosen something for himself.
Hetty looked outside, it was getting dark and she knew he needed to sleep as G let out a yawn.
"Let me show you to your room, where you are to sleep. No one will disturb you while you are in there and I will wake you the next morning." She told him.
He nodded and followed glad they did not want anything from him tonight his arms still ached from that morning's swim and his body was finally succumbing to the rigors of the day.
Sam followed them upstairs and Hetty showed them the rooms they were to use, "Sam, I have put you in your room, If you are alright with that, I know there are still a lot of Amy's things in there." She looked to see if he was all right about using the room.
Sam nodded, "Thank you Hetty, Can you tell G I'll be in here and he just needs to come and get me if he needs anything during the night?"
Hetty nodded and translated what Sam said to G who nodded and smiled.
As Sam shut the door, Callen automatically started to lay by the door.
"Mr. Callen, you have a room for yourself." Hetty said.
"But…How am I to be on hand if I am not nearby, what if …Sam…Needs my services?" G asked.
Hetty fought the tears and bile that rose in her throat, "No one will need you in that way again," she told him. She opened the door to his room and ushered G inside.
G fought his own tears, no one would need him, which meant no one would love him, and he missed his master so much.
Hetty showed him where the bathroom was and bid him goodnight.
She headed off to her room to request some leave time from Director Vance for Sam and herself and to fill him in on the appearance of the boy and the information she had learned since then.
As soon as she was gone, he allowed the tears to fall.
He walked to the window; he could see his masters' yacht, in the distance, bobbing on the waves. He could see the lights sparkling and he imagined his Master with a new slave and sobbed.
He did not like this new life; he missed his master and his home and the sparkling blue lights around his masters yacht made it look like his master was pleased he wasn't there anymore.
He felt so alone.
Yoska Comescu felt anything but alone.
He was livid; he had come back from watching the funeral of Amy Callen Hanna to find his slave missing and his trainer dead on the deck by apparent suicide.
He had looked disdainfully at the body of Nikita Reznikov and had called for his boy to clean up the mess, 'poetic justice' he had thought, the boy had killed his mother and now he could clean up the brains of his father.
"G!" Yoska called again annoyed that the boy had not appeared. "G!" he went below, he was certain he hadn't left the boy tied up in his cabin, but it had been a busy day, and it wasn't the first time he had gone off and forgotten to untie the boy.
He threw open the doors to his cabin to find it empty.
"Attention aboard, the Dusmănie!" A voice over a tannoy cut through his anger. "This is the US Coastguard. Heave to and prepare to be boarded."
Yoska threw his hands up in frustration; He took the gun out of his belt and locked it up in the lock box.
"Officers thank goodness you are here!" he cried looking upset as he came on deck. "I was coming to call you, my son is missing and I have just arrived back to find his tutor dead on my deck!"
The coastguard officer looked at the body, and the grieving man. He looked genuinely distraught and he sent a message to his captain.
"Who are you?" the officer asked as his team went over to look after the body.
"My name is Yoska Comescu; I was here for a funeral. It was my son's half sister, he was too distraught to go so I left him with his tutor, please…you need to find him, and he does not speak any English."
The coastguard officer looked at the man, his team could take care of the dead body, and he motioned to two other crew-members, "We have a missing child." He said and they swung into action.
"Mr. Comescu, can you tell me your son's name and his age…do you have any photographs of him we could use?"
Yoska nodded, he was prepared for just that situation and he was not prepared to lose his boy.
He pulled a picture out of his wallet, it was the 'show' picture as he put it, G looked happy and was dressed in smart clothes.
"His name is Callen, we call him G…it is a nickname. He is nearly 14."
"Do you know his date of birth?" the officer asked.
Yoska nodded, "11th March 2000." He said.
"Is his mother with you, maybe he has gone with her?"
Yoska shook his head and looked sad, "His mother died in childbirth, please officer find my son, he's all I have." He pleaded.
He glanced to the side and shook his head sadly as Resnikov was bagged and taken away, He would be missed, a good trainer was hard to find.
"I'm sorry for your loss sir," The officer said as he mistook his regret for grief.
Yoska gave a small nod.
"Very well let me read this back, Missing child… 13 years old. Named Callen Comescu, answers to G." Yoska nodded. "About 5 ft tall, dirty blond hair and blue eyes."
"Yes…please find him." Yoska said.
"We will put out an amber alert for him, Sir, your yacht is a crime scene, I will send you down with an officer to retrieve some clothes but you will be unable to stay here."
"I will stay in a hotel on land." Yoska told him as he listened to another man relay the information over the radio to the police.
"We will have a crewman accompany you so we can find you if we hear anything."
Yoska nodded, "Thank you officer."
An hour later, in his suite at The Huntley Hotel he let his mask drop. His fury washed across his features and he paced the room. How had this happened, had someone taken his boy...? had his boy killed Reznikov and run away? No…G was far too well trained for that to happen, one of his enemies must have taken him.
He picked up his phone, he had one contact in Los Angeles he could trust, and he waited as the phone rang.
"Bonjour." A man's voice said on the other end of the phone.
"Marcel…it is Yoska, I need your help."
There was a small laugh the other end, "Yoska Comescu, you need my help?" Marcel Janvier laughed.
"I am in Los Angeles, for a funeral, there has been an incident. My trainer was murdered and my slave was taken, I need you to use your contacts and find him. I will have back what belongs to me and I will kill whoever took him." Yoska promised.
"I will see what I can do…I may have already heard a rumor that would interest you." Marcel smiled. "How much are you willing to pay for the information I have?" He asked.
Yoska looked at his phone in disgust, "What is your price?" he asked.
"Three million dollars, is your boy worth that?" Janvier laughed.
"Three….." Yoska spluttered. "You should give me proof with that."
Janvier smiled and turned and looked at the large house in front of him and the young boy he could see from the window, "I will have proof." He smiled and thanked God that he had seen the boy pushed off the yacht as he had been on his way to visit with Yoska, and instead had seen an opportunity and followed the boy instead.
"I will need a week." Yoska told him.
Janvier smiled, "I am a patient man Mr. Comescu, I can wait a week."
The call cut off the same time as the light went out in the room G was in, Janvier closed his phone and walked back to his rental car, he could rest easy knowing that the boy would still be there in the morning and that by the end of the week he would be three million dollars better off.