Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: Los Angeles or any of its characters
CHAPTER 12: THE BACKUP
The red evening sun sank behind the dark silhouettes of skyscrapers. At the Mission, Granger sat, legs crossed, on a chair in Hetty's office. The Operations Manager perched regally behind her desk as always, sipping from one of her dainty floral tea cups, tasting the exotic tea brewed from leaves that were originally grown in the Far East.
Deep evening shadows crawled up the stucco walls.
"The Angelo op is growing more bizarre by the second, Henrietta," Granger muttered.
"I am thankful Kensi was on point and has turned the tables on Angelo," Hetty stated proudly.
"This had to be traumatic for her, though," Granger countered. "She got beaten pretty badly, a lot like in Afghanistan. We may need to have Dr. Getz speak with her again. "
"Agreed." Hetty nodded. "But only once the case is closed. I am confident that she and Mr. Deeks will nab this bastard and procure the stolen weapons."
"Yeah, but between this latest episode with Blye, and Deeks' personal issues with Martindale's family, it's only a matter of time before something blows their cover," said Granger.
Hetty's smart phone buzzed from her desk. She picked it up and found a text message. A sly grin curled her thin lips.
"What is it?" asked Granger.
"Backup," Hetty responded sharply.
Another beautiful sunny morning filtered through the grimy windows at the cover beach house. Deeks and Kensi were up in the living room, dressed, and speaking into their respective smart phones.
Deeks was giving much needed good news to his old friend.
"My babies are in Catalina," Ray's grateful voice spoke softly on the other end.
"I told you we'd find them," Deeks said happily.
"Jenna must be bargaining with Angelo somehow," theorized Ray. "To keep herself and Carrie alive."
"Angelo is sending Kensi to Catalina," reported Deeks. "We'll reunite you guys soon enough."
"I'm scared that time's running out, Marty," Ray said despondently.
"Don't talk like that, man," Deeks said calmly. "Jenna's tough and smart, too. She's a survivor. She needs you to stay strong for her and recover."
"All I need is my girls back," Ray said firmly.
"I know," said Deeks. "They're alive. We'll get them back."
"Yeah." Ray whispered.
"We'll talk again soon, brother," Deeks promised.
"We will," said Ray.
"I'll save your girls."
The two friends bade farewell for now.
The detective glanced across the living room, where Kensi spoke with her worried mother on her phone. "Yes, I'm capable of working," Kensi said a little exasperated. "I can't pull out now."
Deeks stared at her. She wore worn-out jeans and a trendy long sleeved purple shirt to hide most of her cuts and bruises. She had just put on a stylish black choker to hide the massive bruise on her throat. She also painted her face with Fern's signature slut makeup, complete with liberal amounts of smoky eye shadows.
"Yes, the case is coming along, but you know I can't get into that with you," stressed Kensi - "All right, we'll all go on a vacation or something when this is all over."
Deeks joyously grinned as his girl continued her frantic conversation with her mother.
"What? Seriously? Deeks, come here." She beckoned him.
Deeks gladly crossed over to her. "What?"
"Monty wants to say hi." She switched her phone to speaker. The couple picked up timid barking coming out of the phone.
"Hey, Monty, my boy!" Deeks said heartily. "You better be chasing a scary ninja ghost cat away."
"Hey!" Kensi lightly slugged his shoulder. "Leave my dead cat alone!"
Deeks humorously ignored her. "And keep away from the underwear drawers."
"It's a little too late for that, Marty," Julia's wry voice followed Monty's out of the phone.
"What?" Deeks grew embarrassed. "Monty, I understand where you're coming from, buddy, but that's a no!"
Kensi rolled her eyes.
"That's hardly important," Julia said pointedly. "Just keep my daughter safe."
"I'm not going to screw that up again," Deeks vowed. "You got my word."
The two said goodbye to Julia.
"Deeks, you've got to stop blaming yourself for what happened," Kensi pleaded. "You actually heeded Thapa's warning. You told me what he said and I was as vigilant as I could be. It's okay and I'll continue on just fine."
"Y'know, personally, I agree with your mother," Deeks told her. "I want to take care of you right now and you need to rest."
"Yeah, well, there's no rest for Angelo's newest thug," muttered Kensi.
"Sahib."
The two started, reflectively drawing their guns.
Thapa had snuck his way into the living room.
"Sorry," the Gurkha apologized hastily, raising his hands. "I have to do this. Angelo can't know we are soul brothers. I take it we are safe to speak here freely."
"Yeah," replied Deeks.
The two lowered their guns, returning them to the small of their backs.
Deeks smiled. "You got something for us, brother?"
"Yes, I have." Thapa nervelessly approached them. "I discovered that the disgraced Gurkhas aligned with Angelo are in Catalina. They are occupying a hotel called The Paradise Sun Club."
"Small world," Deeks remarked. "That's also where Angelo's holding my friend's wife and daughter captive. He promised that something big will go down soon."
"I would say so," Thapa concurred.
"Why would a bunch of Gurkhas want to work for Angelo?" Kensi queried, brows furrowed.
"These Gurkhas are being paid in heavy artillery," said Thapa.
"And Angelo wants the bragging rights of having warrior race guys on his team," Kensi deduced.
"While trash like Max are in charge of the lowly street thugs," conceded Deeks.
"How did you insert yourself into Angelo's gang?" Kensi further questioned Thapa. "I mean, do the other Gurkhas know who you are?"
"The Gurkhas working for Angelo were part of a small, specialized infiltration unit. They seldom interacted with other Gurkhas and had no previous dealings with me," explained Thapa. "They vanished two years ago, likely once they began their association with Angelo. They know only I am a Gurkha and I am interested in profiting from Angelo's crimes as they do."
"When all the while, you are working your way into Angelo's circle here in Los Angeles conducting your investigation," Kensi further deduced.
"That is exactly right," Thapa complemented. "Is your partner's detective skills manifesting in you?"
"I am a criminology expert," Kensi boasted. "And I better go. I can't be late for my first day as Angelo's favorite coast trash."
"I'll catch you later," Deeks told her.
"Okay, bye, babe," Kensi said as she reached the front door.
"Bye," replied Deeks.
"Don't aim another grenade launcher at Angelo without us," Thapa cut in. "That was very entertaining."
Kensi laughed as she opened the door and left.
The Gurkha instinctively sensed that his American detective friend was angsting. "You are worried about her."
"She almost got killed yesterday right in this room, and I wasn't here to help her," Deeks murmured.
"Don't blame yourself, my friend," Thapa said to him. "Like you said yesterday, you both know the risks and she is strong. But there will always be things that are out of your control."
"Yeah, like Fern going toe-to-toe with Angelo while he indulges in his dirty old villainous crush," Deeks mumbled. "And Max is stuck mingling with even less appealing criminals on the streets."
"Are you two still stranded on your frozen lake?" Thapa inquired.
"Nope." Deeks exhaled. "But almost as soon as we hooked up, Angelo happened."
"Your heart still may need more discipline," advised Thapa.
Deeks smirked. He wasn't even sure he understood what that meant, though. "You're the coolest, brother." The detective's smart phone ding. He received a text from Salvator Santos. "Oh, good, my friendly neighborhood arms dealer is ready for our morning meeting."
"Who is that?" asked Thapa.
"Salvator Santos," answered Deeks.
"I know him," Thapa informed him. "He watches over me like a starving hawk whenever I am in the presence of Angelo's weapons."
"Santos has clearly become one of Angelo's top baddies," said Deeks. "Maybe he's one of the links between Angelo and the weapons."
Later that morning, Fern took a huge swig of her virgin Bloody Mary in the lounge of the Vista. Gorgeous sunlight streamed through the expansive windows. She sat at a small round table with Angelo. Nate resumed his cover as the bartender. Every now and then he snuck Kensi a 'we're-so-having-a-massive-therapy-session' look. The Special Agent ignored him.
Angelo seemed quite relaxed and secure in Fern's presence. There was a wicked irony in that he hired her to have his back, not just because Fern fearlessly threatened to blow him away with a grenade launcher, but also because Kensi riddled his hotel suite with bullets, prompting rumors about the attempt on his life in the first place. Thanks to Angelo's lustful obliviousness, he trusted her of all people to keep him safe from gunfire.
That itself was a perfect crime.
Once she finished gulping down her virgin Bloody Mary, Fern realized Angelo was openly staring at her. "What?" she demanded indignantly.
"For someone who took a beating from a gorilla, you look really good," the mobster said silkily.
Fern snorted. "I've looked better."
"I don't know, I think you look like a savage warrior princess," Angelo said admiringly. "I like it."
Fern said nothing.
The mobster's smart phone vibrated inside the front pocket of his tailored blazer. He checked the ID and answered the call. "Yeah... You'd better get that shipment sorted out, or I'll eat your greasy head for breakfast." He hotly ended the call and deposited the phone back inside his front blazer pocket. The pocket was easily within Kensi's reach. Her ears pricked up at the word 'shipment' and how testy Angelo seemed.
"Is there a problem I need to know about?" She kept her voice flighty and casual.
"Just a slight business hiccup," Angelo dismissed. "It doesn't concern you."
The mob boss looked around the glistening room. There weren't many people in the lounge this time of day. He trailed his beady gaze over to the large room's entrance. His face dramatically fell when he witnessed an overweight old man jovially strolling in.
"Oh, God, hide me." He childishly hid his face with his hands.
"What's up?" Fern was befuddled by this newest quirk.
"Arkady Kolcheck," Angelo groaned. He acted like he was about to bump into a annoying random acquaintance in some grocery store aisle.
"What?" Kensi felt like hiding herself, too. If Arkady noticed her, her cover may be blown.
Of course, the ex-KGB agent spotted them and approached their table. He'd already gotten a good look at Kensi. Once he made it over to them, he glanced down at Angelo like he found something smelly sticking to the soles of his expensive designer shoes.
"Vincent, long time no zee, uh?" he said in his thick accent. "What'z with the hiding of face? Your hotel is not, as they say, too gaudy."
Angelo removed his hands from his face and snickered. "Very funny, wise guy!"
"I heard you had party here," said Arkady. "Why didn't I get invite?"
"It was too frivolous for you," exclaimed Angelo.
"Come now! I am king of frivolouz!" Arkady declared animatedly. "I feel hurt. Maybe I throw party and not invite you."
"That would hurt my feelings," Angelo responded, obviously lying.
"Then at next party, you invite Arkady," he declared, poking his flabby chest with his fat thumb.
"Will do." Angelo nodded.
"Who'z your lady friend?" Arkady leered directly at Kensi. "A very hot Amazon."
Kensi stared back at him. Evidently, her cover wasn't blown. "Francesca," she replied, flattered.
"She works for me," Angelo explained. "She's really neat with the fighting."
"Ah." Arkady nodded.
Two other recognizable men ventured into the affluent lounge, wearing suits and blazers. They veered towards the table. Kensi expertly held her surprise at bay. The new guys were Callen and Sam.
"Ah, my entourage," said Arkady.
"What you think your doin' holdin' us up!?" Sam harshly shot at Arkady, obviously playing a street character.
"I not holding you up, Desmond," Arkady insisted. "I was finding us a table to dine at."
"Hey, who are these two pogo sticks?" Angelo sneered at the newcomers. "I've never seen them around."
"Don't get short with Desmond," Callen told Angelo in his skilled Russian accent. "He is, as you say, explosive."
"Shut up, Alexi!" "Desmond" shoved Callen, who timidly shielded his face with his arms. "Oh, please don't hurt!" cried the Russian pathetically.
"Hey, hey, you boys are causing a scene!" Angelo said affronted.
While he was distracted, Kensi pickpocketed his smart phone. In her formative years, when she was homeless on the streets, she'd learned this ancient art of thievery, along with lock picking. She swiftly scrolled through Angelo's contact list, hiding the phone under the table.
"If you got held up by this bloated Ruskie, you'd be pissed, too!" "Desmond" spat at Angelo.
"There's no need to cause a scene," Angelo chided. "You are in a classy joint. I mean, this isn't Denny's!"
Angelo shot out of his chair. Loyally, Fern followed him up, keeping herself between her boss and the pogo sticks. Kensi snuck the phone back inside his blazer pocket, his attention still glued on the three questionable clowns.
"Yeah, you are usually the ham," Arkady retorted to Angelo.
"Are you going to find your own table, Kolcheck, or do I need to uninvite you from my hotel?" Angelo sniped moodily.
"Very well, we get our own table," Arkady said coolly. "Come along, fellas."
"Like I said, Desmond explooooodes," "Alexi" whispered to Angelo smugly.
"Desmond" smacked "Alexi" hard across his head as they found their own table. "Don't get weaselly," he warned him.
Fern and Angelo watched as the three men claimed a table by the empty piano stage. "That Arkady Kolcheck is a strange, wishy-washy commie," Angelo whispered to Fern. "I mean, look what he's keeping company with!"
To Kensi, Arkady seemed like a way more normal mobster than Angelo.
"I don't commune with him much," Angelo went on. "I get the feeling he's prone to double crossing."
Kensi snuck a quick sideways glance at her two partners skulking in their seats by the stage. It felt good to finally have Callen and Sam back from Mexico, especially providing backup.
At the OPS center, Eric and Nell sat on their chairs, alertly keeping watch over the monitors. Hetty and Granger lurked in the background, also observing the monitors. A light ding went off from Eric's smart phone. "It's from Kensi," he spoke, reading his phone.
"What did she send you?" Hetty inquired.
"A list of names from Angelo's smart phone," Eric excitedly filled in.
"Put them up on the screen," commanded Granger.
The list of seemingly random names popped up on the big screen. Names that mostly belonged to lowly criminals. Then the quartet looked into the name of Vic Holdren.
"Vic Holdren is a Warrant Officer." Nell speed read the man's file.
"Fancy finding a distinguished man like him in a deranged mafioso's phone," commented Hetty.
"Looks like we found our traitor," Granger said seriously. "Find out everything about Holdren," he fiercely ordered the Wonder Twins. "And I do mean everything."
"Right." Eric nodded nervously.
"Will do, sir," Nell responded professionally.
Max stalked the docks with the typical posturing of an arrogant street thug. Seagulls glided slowly through the sunny skies, squawking. The salty briny stench irritated his nostrils. Max spotted the sinister, oily presence of Salvator Santos waiting for him in the shadows by a rundown warehouse, arms tightly folded over his chest.
"Max, I heard your spicy mistress went bat crazy on Angelo," Santos said by way of greeting.
"Yeah, but they kissed and made up," Max drawled.
"I also heard she's his muscle now," said Santos.
"Power of forgiveness," muttered Max. "I'm told you've got something for me?"
"Yeah, inside the warehouse." Santos nodded towards the building behind him.
Max quietly followed the arms dealer inside. In the darkened, shadowy warehouse, a terrifying, yet dazzling engine of destruction caught his eye. A gigantic war tank loomed motionless in the shadows, looking impregnable and mighty.
Deeks kept his face emotionless.
"Angelo wants me to tell you he means serious business," Santos relayed to Max.
The thug merely shrugged. "I thought it would be bigger."
Santos scoffed.
Next Chapter: The Warrant Officer
