The Collector
Chapter 28
...
Deeks had no idea who would be waiting for him when he parked the Corvette in the back of the hanger. His left arm was growing stiff and virtually useless, his sleeve black with drying blood, so he reached across his body to open the door. A wave of dizziness left him nauseous as the door swung open and he rested his forehead on the steering wheel until it passed. Forcing himself to move, he stumbled out and leaned heavily on the door, trying to steady himself and prepare for the questions he knew would be coming. He was suddenly jerked back by his collar and shoved against the side of the car, and he cried out at the sick slice of pain that shot down his wounded arm.
"What the hell happened to you?" Ruben asked, stepping away when he saw the blood.
"The blood not enough of a hint?" Deeks said, his eyes closed against the burning pain and seeping weariness.
He was slapped and he opened his eyes to see Cortez staring at him, his face rigid and his eyes simmering with distrust. Solano was behind him, a sly smile flitting across his thin lips, and it made him angry and gave him an idea.
"Did you set me up you sonofabitch?" Deeks accused, pushing himself off the car and lunging for the man.
Cortez grabbed a handful of his shirt and shoved him back against the car, his face hard as he ripped the bloody sleeve away from the wound. Deeks gasped at the sudden stab of pain and wasn't role-playing when he slid partially down the side of the car as his knees gave way. It was Ruben who held him up, surprising him.
"What the fuck happened?" Cortez demanded.
"A shitload of cops hit us," he replied weakly. "Barton started shooting and we ran. Sikes went down after shooting a cop. When Barton was hit, I almost managed to slip out the stage door, but a bullet caught me first."
"And you just happened to get away?" Solano snarled.
"They knew those two were gonna be there," Deeks said angrily. "How'd they know that unless somebody tipped them off?"
"The cops must have suspected they were dirty," Ruben suggested. "Probably were hoping to catch whoever was paying them off."
"Did the cops see you?" Cortez asked, his voice calm and somewhat rational.
"Just my ass," he said softly with a quick smile.
Cortez laughed and patted him gently on the face, and then his features went stone cold as his other hand closed over the oozing wound on his arm. Deeks' vision went white as he screamed and if Raul hadn't been holding him against the car he would have collapsed.
"Did they catch you, puta? Did they interrogate you?" His question an intense whisper as Deeks struggled to stay on his feet. "Did you rat me out, my little whore?"
"No. No, sir," he gasped out. "They wouldn't have let me go. You know that, man."
"Maybe they followed you," he said more reasonably.
"No one...no one saw me, Raul," he mumbled. "I made sure. I made sure."
He was covered in sweat when Cortez let him go, and he wondered if he was going to be sick. Giving them that satisfaction was not what he wanted to do, and forced himself to stand up straight as he sucked much needed air into his lungs, trying to calm his building anxiousness.
"We're still out six grand," Solano said. "Your ass isn't worth that."
Deeks reached behind his back and pulled the bloody envelope full of cash out of his back pocket and handed it to Cortez. He couldn't keep the smile off his face when he saw the shocked surprise on Solano's face and neither could Cortez.
"Well done, puta," Cortez said quietly as he passed the envelope to Solano. "I knew there was a reason I kept you around."
Deeks' smile slowly faded as he recalled fighting to breathe after the man had ordered him tied up and left to die in a coffin of thick plastic. Selective memory from a man who now gave Ruben orders to drive him to Krista's place, telling him he would send a trusted doctor to tend his wound. He found he was unable to speak, his mind numbing from the pain and blood loss. He simply nodded as Ruben led him away. He remembered nothing of the drive over until Ruben shook him awake. He smiled when he saw the towels that surrounded him and covered his wounded arm.
"Didn't want to get blood all over your pretty car, yeah?" Deeks grinned.
"Shut up and get out," Ruben said. "You can keep the towels."
"Gee, thanks," he replied as he stumbled out of the car and looked around.
Ruben backed rapidly away as soon as the door closed, leaving him standing unsteadily in a small, mostly empty parking garage behind Krista's condo. He sighed, letting the tension ease, thankful to be alone and still alive. He turned toward the elevator door and walked slowly toward it, pulling his arm close, gripping his elbow and the remnants of his bloody sleeve and wrapping his arms around himself as he began to shiver from shock. Leaning heavily against the back wall of the elevator, he smiled and rather enjoyed the soft innocuous music that serenaded him as he rode up to the third floor. It felt good to be alone and he found himself looking forward to seeing Krista, wondering what her reaction would be.
She was standing in front of the elevator door when it opened and obviously startled to see him, her hand going to her mouth when she saw all the blood. He thought there was real concern in her eyes, but he was going into shock, so he might be wrong. When she reached for him, it surprised him. She immediately wrapped her arm around him and helped him from the elevator,
"Ruben called to tell me where he'd dropped you," she said, her voice low and angry. "He's a real bastard. He should have helped you."
"I like you better," he said with a goofy grin. "And you're prettier."
Deeks was having trouble keeping his eyes open, stumbling as she guided him to the guest room.
"I'll get blood all over your nice pretty bed," he said, sounding silly even to himself.
"Raul can buy me new bedding, you idiot," she scolded. "Now lie down before you fall over. The doctor is on his way."
"It's not that bad," he said cockily.
She looked doubtful at that and began to fuss over him, helping him out of his bloody shirt and jeans and he wondered if Cortez was watching. She eased him down on the bed and he gratefully crawled under the covers with her help. He let out a low groan when she gently laid his arm on one of her plush towels, and he saw her grimace at the blood still oozing from the fairly fresh gunshot wound.
"I think it went all the way through," she said, running her hand down his cheek.
"Were you a nurse in a former life, too?" He asked. "Cause you have a very good bedside manner."
He saw her frown before he closed his eyes, letting his body sink into the welcome comfort of the soft bed, finally beginning to feel warm for the first time since he'd been shot. Her hands brushed the hair back from his forehead and it felt soothing and kind, and he wondered once again if she didn't care for him at least a little bit. His mind drifted as his muscles went lax, but the sound of a deep voice jerked him back to a state of uneasiness, and he lifted his head to see who it was. The man was young and wore hospital scrubs, his dark brown eyes serious behind round glasses. He quickly placed a thermometer in his ear and just as quickly read it before looking down at his arm.
"How long since you were shot?" He asked in a clipped, professional voice.
"Not sure. Maybe an hour," Deeks mumbled, growing cold again.
The doctor lifted his arm gently, but he bit his lip at the fresh pain as the man went about his examination. He said something to Krista, but their conversation sounded like buzzing in his ears as his mind and body began to numb. The warm water felt good, but he hissed when the doctor began cleaning the wound with something stronger, and he tried to pull away.
"Quit fighting me," the man snapped. "You've lost quite a bit of blood, and I need to close these wounds or you'll lose more, so suck it up."
Deeks grunted as the man shoved a needle in his vein none too gently, causing him to jerk again.
"You're lucky. The bullet missed the bone and your main artery, or you'd have bled out already," the man said hurriedly. "What I gave you will help with the pain and put you almost under while I stitch you up."
"Thanks," Deeks whispered as his world began to go dark. "Hope your stitches are better than your bedside manner."
The last thing he heard was a dry laugh.
...
It was very late when he woke to unpleasant voices outside his bedroom. Krista was trying to dissuade someone from waking him, keeping her voice low, but insistent. The telltale slap and her small cry had him out of the bed as quickly as he could manage. Pulling on his jeans with one hand, he grabbed his weapon and shoved it in the waistband of his pants, striding to the door and yanking it open. Krista was on the floor against the wall with her hand trembling over a red mark high on her cheek. There was pure, unhidden anger in her eyes and no trace of tears. She was a tough woman, and he admired her in that instant before Solano confronted him, his eyes bloodshot and his mouth fixed in a vicious sneer, the smell of alcohol permeating the narrow hallway.
"What did you tell Raul?" He asked, his voice angry, but there was just enough worry in it to make Deeks realize the man was afraid.
"Maybe we should talk about it in the bedroom," Deeks suggested with a slight smile. "Unless you don't want Raul to find out you're here."
"You think you impressed him today, don't you?" Solano spit out.
"You're fuckin' jealous," Deeks said, even though he knew he had just stepped into a minefield.
The man's eyes narrowed as he lifted his chin, trying to make the comment a lie, but Deeks could see he had hit a nerve and knew he should be careful about what came out of his mouth next.
"Let me get you a drink, Javier," Krista said as she rose and moved in front of Deeks. "Raul won't like this."
"You made him doubt me, you little fuck," Solano growled, shoving Krista aside as she tried to get him to calm down. "You think you can replace me? I've bled for that man. I've fucked and tortured and killed men and women for his personal enjoyment, because he gets off on watching. Now he wants me to kill that Russian sonofabitch. He asked me, you fuckin' little shit. Me. Not you. I do his dirty work, so don't think a little gunshot to the arm makes any difference to him. He'll get tired of both of you and then he'll turn to me like he always does and I will make you wish you had never met each other."
Deeks had his hand on the butt of his gun as the man ranted, seriously drunk or he never would have revealed that Cortez wanted Arkady Kolcheck dead. He had to get the man out of here, and then wondered if he had come alone. If he had, then the man was now afraid to trust anyone. Solano was out of control, and that made him even more dangerous than normal, if the man could be thought of as normal. He was definitely acting paranoid and if he had to shoot him to protect himself or Krista, then the whole operation could be blown.
"You're right man," Deeks said calmly, trying to be humble in the face of lunacy. "I could never replace you, and I don't want to. I just want to do my job. It's all I got man."
The quiet statement stopped the man, and he looked confused and distrustful, staring uncertainly at him as he wiped the spittle from the corners of his mouth. Deeks thought he must have realized that some of what he'd said might have been picked up by the microphones and cameras Cortez had scattered around the condo, because he began to look around for a way out. Krista saw the change too, and bravely took his arm and turned him toward the living room, quietly offering him a drink. Deeks slumped against the wall, suddenly exhausted, but knowing he had to tell Bates about Cortez's plan to blow a major drug deal simply because he didn't like the man sent to broker that deal. Raul was a mercurial guy, but this decision was a surprise, knowing there must be some reason behind it. There had to be.
Deeks tried to keep the disgust from his face as he watched Solano down another tumbler of bourbon. The man never took his eyes off of him, and it became increasingly creepy as the man sauntered around the room as if he owned it, spouting about his prowess as a murderer. He was quite proud of his accomplishments in the darkest of arts and smiled as he regaled them with stories that made Deeks want to puke, and had him wondering if this performance wasn't more for Cortez then the two of them. Solano finally stopped behind the chair he had slumped into, putting him on edge and causing him once again to move his hand to his gun. He flinched nervously as the man's fingers flitted lightly across the top of his bare shoulder and he started to rise, wishing he had pulled on a shirt before leaving the bedroom. Solano suddenly clamped his left hand down on the wound in his arm, sending a weakening wave of pain stabbing into his chest, the degenerate's slender fingers closing around the base of his neck, holding him in place. The familiar and sickening smell of booze fouled the air around them as Solano ran his hand down across his chest and pulled him back against the soft fabric of the chair, his fingers clutching at him.
"Move your hand off the gun," he whispered.
"Move yours off me or I'll shoot you in the fuckin' face," Deeks said, close to rage as a growing darkness enveloped him.
"Haven't you been listening to me?" Solano's laugh was hollow as he squeezed Deeks' wounded arm, his right hand suddenly slamming up into his throat. "You think I can't kill you before you even raise that gun?"
"But I can kill you before you try," Krista said quietly as she place the barrel of a pistol at the back of Solano's head.
Deeks felt the man's hands loosen and he jumped up from the chair, bringing his own gun up and pointing it directly at his face.
"Give me one good reason I shouldn't blow your head off?" Deeks asked, panting from the throbbing pain.
"Cortez," Solano said with a confident smile. "He is watching. You know that. It's what I counted on you little fuck. He always likes a good show, and this was just the teaser."
"Get out," Krista said as her hand began to tremble.
"I will for now, but you'll pay for this you fuckin' whore," he said in a whisper as he passed her. "You both will."
As soon as he was out the door, Deeks tucked his gun away and walked quietly to Krista's side and took the pistol from her hands. He put the safety on and laid it on the side console before he turned and wrapped her in his arms, holding her as she shivered, finally succumbing to the shock of the situation. She whispered curses into his chest and fought against his embrace as she finally began to display her anger.
"That bastard," she said when he let her go. "I should have shot that sick piece of shit."
Deeks slowly shook his head, trying to remind her who was watching and listening, but she didn't seem to care. She poured herself a drink and downed it without blinking, slamming the glass down and glaring at him. Her anger was dangerous, and he turned without a word and went into the bedroom and got dressed. He had to talk to Pete or Bates and that meant he had to find some excuse to leave. When he looked up she was leaning against the doorframe, her long blond hair now clipped up behind her head. She looked beautiful in the low light as she pulled her pale lavender robe tightly around herself.
"I'm gonna follow him," he told her as he struggled into his leather jacket.
"Why?"
"To make sure he's going home, wherever that is," he said, picking up his phone. "Don't think you want another visit tonight. I'll have to take your car."
"Be careful," she said with a sad smile.
"You're starting to make me think you care about me just a little bit," laughing cockily.
"Why else would I save your life?" She choked on the words, not able to hold back the tears any longer.
"Hey. You're okay. You were amazing," he said, gently wiping away her tears with his thumb. "I'll make pancakes for you in the morning. I'll even put whipped cream on top."
"Yummy," she said, finally smiling.
"Don't wait up, pumpkin," he said softly, brushing his lips lightly across the now blue bruise on her cheek.
He moved stealthily down the stairs to the parking garage, his hand gripping and re-gripping the weapon Solano had given him not that long ago. He knew the man's threat was serious, and didn't want to be ambushed if the man was still around. He was hurting, and wanted this assignment to be over more than ever after tonight. He was getting tired of being roughed up and having to act subservient afterwards to two sick bastards. He had come close to killing a man tonight and was surprised that he was able to keep himself from doing just that. The crazy sonofabitch sure as hell deserved it, but that wasn't his job.
He slipped silently into Krista's sporty white BMW and backed out quickly, wanting and needing to speak with a sane human being who knew who he was. Pulling over in the parking lot by the beach, he slumped in the seat and stared longingly at the repeating waves, their rhythm slowing his heart and relaxing the tension straining his tight muscles. He eventually pulled his phone and called Pete.
"Thought you'd be sleeping," Pete said warmly. "You could use the rest."
"I could use a lot of fuckin' things," he snapped, suddenly surging with residual anger.
"What happened, Marty," Pete asked calmly, using his first name in an effort to bring him back to himself.
"Solano happened," he said wearily, before telling him about his evening and the threats leveled at him by an unstable, drunken bastard.
"You okay, kid?" The heartfelt concern in his voice warmed him.
"Cortez ordered Solano to kill Arkady Kolcheck," he replied.
"The Russian brokering the deal down south?"
"Yeah, and I don't understand why," Deeks responded.
"I better talk to Bates," Pete said hurriedly. "He's meeting with the Feds right now."
"Was the Intel good?" He asked as his energy began to fade. "Do we have enough evidence to take 'em down?"
"You sound ragged, kid," Pete replied. "The District Attorney's office has been going through the files you copied and we should have the verdict in the morning. Now get some rest, you'll need it when this goes down."
"Yeah, no. I will, man. Thanks."
Deeks ended the call and got out of the car. He cradled his wounded arm against his stomach and walked toward the dark surf, the constant pounding reassuring and the crisp smell of salt in the air cleansing the bad taste from his mouth. The comforting feel of his gun tucked into the back of his jeans reminded him not to lose focus, but he needed this respite and he selfishly took it.
...
Hetty felt a tingle in the palms of her hands as Callen completed his report on the surveillance he'd run on Arkady Kolcheck and she didn't like it. It was the one physical response to unwelcome news she'd never quite been able to control. After a while she had given up trying to, since it wasn't visible to anyone and wouldn't give her away. Now, it came in handy, warning her to pay attention when things weren't going as planned or if there was danger involved for someone she cared about.
"You didn't talk to him, did you?" She asked solemnly.
"No, Hetty, but I did manage to slip a bug into his car," he smiled smugly as he answered. "It's how I know he has suspicions about Bates' undercover operative."
"Bates will be here shortly to share the intel his operative pulled off three of Raul Cortez's computers."
"Heard they took down a couple of dirty cops," he said softly. "Was the rookie involved in that?"
"He was, Mr. Callen," she sighed. "And was shot by one of them. Nothing serious."
"So did they pull him?"
"No. He went back in," Hetty said with a tight and rather smug smile of her own.
"And after what I just told you?" Callen asked, his eyes that intense, cold blue she knew so well.
"That's not my decision to make," she said, unable to keep the worry from showing this time. "And I'm not sure they can pull him out now without blowing the whole op."
"The kid's in that deep?" He asked in that skeptical way of his. "Or, is he still not trusted and pulling him would make him look guilty and we'd lose them?"
"Something like that, Mr. Callen."
Bates entrance into the boat shed ended their conversation, but the man seemed to intuitively sense the tension and his expression showed caution as he looked between them.
"Do I have to ask?" He questioned as he threw a file folder down on the table.
"I bugged Arkady's car," Callen said. "He's suspicious of your undercover. The good news is, he doesn't like Cortez and he's not sure he wants to warn him he may have a cop on his payroll."
"I sense a 'but' in there somewhere," Bates said wearily.
"There's only one person Arkady looks out for. Himself," Callen said. "If he thinks he's in danger he may overlook his distaste for Cortez and your rookie will be dead."
"Anyway to forestall him warning Cortez?" Bates was now quietly intense and Callen shot a quick look at Hetty.
"If I warn Arkady we're onto Volkov selling bad drugs to Navy personnel and that it's killing them, he may just back away from the whole thing." Callen offered. "He's very good at that. He's not interested in spending the rest of his life in a federal prison."
"Hold on," Bates said as his phone buzzed.
Hetty and Callen exchanged looks as Bates' expression went from irritated to surprise in seconds. He mumbled something, his eyes now locked on Callen. When he ended the call, he simply shook his head.
"Tell Arkady Kolcheck that Cortez is sending someone to kill him," Bates said.
"That ought to do it," Hetty breathed out slowly.
"Is your guy sure about that?" Callen asked with surprise.
"My guy just had a run-in with the shooter," Bates shared. "His name's Solano and he met Arkady the day they struck a deal. He'll remember him. My guy said Arkady didn't like him or trust him."
"He always did have good instincts," Callen said, taking a deep breath.
"The question is why?" Hetty asked. "Why does he want Arkady dead?"
"Maybe Cortez thinks he doesn't need him," Callen said. "Whatever the reason, this will keep your man safe."
"Or start a war," Bates said with disgust. "My senior undercover believes Cortez is mentally unstable. Could account for this. He's never been shy about killing people he doesn't like."
"You're worried about your rookie," Callen stated as he watched Bates.
"Yeah. Cortez came close to killing him earlier," Bates acknowledged.
"You need to make contact with Arkady, Mr. Callen," Hetty said calmly. "Let him know his new business partner wants him dead. Tell him we've been watching and if he's smart he'll distance himself from Volkov or go down with him."
"He'll believe you?" Bates asked.
"Yeah. But you need to wrapped this case up," Callen warned. "Arkady doesn't like being threatened and he doesn't let that kind of thing go for long. Cortez doesn't know much about Russians or the KGB or he would have left Arkady alone."
"We should have warrants in the morning," Bates said as he pushed a folder across the table. "We've got his whole operation and all his associates by the balls, and tomorrow we'll put an end to Raul Cortez."
"I look forward to meeting your rookie undercover," Callen said as Bates rose to leave.
"Someday I just might introduce you, Mr. Callen," Hetty said with a tight smile.
"I knew it," Callen said with a smirk. "What's his name?"
"All in good time, Mr. Callen. All in good time."
...
Deeks wandered the beach until the early hours of the morning, clearing his head and refocusing. He knew the end was close and probably by tomorrow night he would be back in his own bed. At least he would be if things went according to plan. He began to wonder if there had ever been a plan, or if he had just managed to scrabble through this assignment by luck and happenstance. He was alive, but not the same.
He realized he should go back to Krista's, that taking this time alone was a risk he shouldn't be indulging in, but he needed this. He needed to mentally prepare for the final takedown, to play his part till the end, the faithful, subservient lackey with nothing to lose, who would go down fighting at the side of his crazy ass boss. What a crock of shit.
He thought if he had the chance he would shoot Raul without hesitation and then seek out Solano and do the same. He'd never told Pete that, but he was pretty sure he knew that was what was in his mind to do. Was it vengeance he sought for the pain they put him through? Was it what a trained police officer should do? If he followed through with it, would he be reprimanded or possibly fired? He wasn't sure he cared anymore. The only thing he was sure of was that he wanted Raul to feel the pain of loss of all that he had worked for, to see his empire crumble before his eyes, to know he wasn't as smart and as invulnerable as he thought he was. He wanted to see the arrogance fade from his eyes, to see him humbled and brought to his knees. Maybe serving time for his crimes was a more fitting, ignoble end to the man's sorry life. So, maybe he wouldn't kill him. Maybe he would just kill Solano.
Or maybe he would do what he was trained to do...protect and serve. He wanted to go on with his career, with his real life, and jeopardizing that by killing these two depraved men in cold blood would mean they had turned him into the kind of man he had fought so hard not to become. He couldn't allow that. He wouldn't allow that, not now, not ever. He had fought to become an honorable man, a good man and sinking to Cortez and Solano's level was not something he would allow himself to do.
"You're a cop," he said into the soft night breeze. "Never forget that, buddy."
...
By the time he got back to Krista's he was feeling utterly exhausted, and his arm throbbed with renewed pain. He hadn't taken any medication since the afternoon and he was feeling it. Not wanting to wake her, he opened the door as quietly as possible and stepped inside the darkened room, the edges of the white furniture guiding him through the space. There was usually a hint of lavender in the air, but tonight the taste on his tongue made him pause halfway in. At first he thought he was smelling his own blood, and wondered when he might have pulled his stitches, briefly touching his bandage. Feeling nothing, he felt panic rising in his throat as he bit his bottom lip, his breath becoming short and shallow.
"Krista?"
Her name was a strangled cry as he pulled his gun and stepped into the hall. He stopped to listen for a response he never expected to hear and leaned against the wall, not wanting to see.
"Marty?"
The feeble sound exploded in his head and he slammed her bedroom door open and stopped as suddenly as he started. A small lamp lit the grisly scene, and he closed his eyes against the horror. She was tied to the bed, her delicate lavender robe ripped and streaked with her blood, her hair hideously cropped, the long blond strands scattered over her body, soaked in the blood pulsing from the stab wounds in her chest and abdomen. His eyes clouded with regret and a misting of tears as he moved to her side, slicing the ropes to free her as she stared at him with frightened eyes. He called for an ambulance, praying they might be able to save her, but not really believing it.
"Will you hold me?" she whispered.
He found no voice, so he simply lifted her into his arms, tucking her head tightly against his chest, shaken by the whimpers she couldn't hold in.
"Krista, I'm so sorry," he said, choking on his inadequate words. "I never should have left you alone."
"You're a good man, Marty," her voice weak and breathless. "Don't let them take that from you."
"Shhhh," he whispered as he stroked her butchered hair.
Guilt and shame filled him as she slumped limply in his arms, her breathing so shallow and hitched with pain, her beauty still glimmering in spite of what Solano had done to her. She spoke a name he didn't know before she died, her breath just stopping for the last time, her skin so pale and lifeless, but flawless even in death. He laid her back on the bed and stumbled to his feet, too tired for anger, but knowing it would come, following the regret that would never leave him.
He pulled his phone and called Pete, but unable to answer when Pete said his name. He simply stared at the mutilated body of a woman he had made love to and words would not come.
"Deeks? Talk to me, kid," Pete said softly.
"He killed her," he whispered with tears in his voice. "Solano butchered her on her own bed."
"Get out of there now, Deeks," Pete said urgently. "You hear me? They can't find you there. I'll call it in. Now go. Go to Max's place."
He never replied, shutting off the phone and turning away, his gun held loosely in his hand. He looked down at the dark weapon and then the rage came and he was blinded by it.
...
...
