A/N: for some reason the first scene (which was originally going to be Callen and Sam) just refused to come out, even though I'd written everything else.
Nell was silent as Kensi parked the SRX in front of the Master at Arms building at Naval Base Ventura County. She'd tried to engage the brunette in conversation, but Kensi was focused on driving, or more precisely, shutting out anything that wasn't work related.
They'd decided not to go to Mazzuno's CO and shipmates. A pair of NCIS agents asking questions or even hanging around could have Mazzuno and his partners, if any, dumping the drugs and going to ground, eliminating any chance of identifying their clients.
The office was well staffed but not particularly busy at the moment. Nell supposed they saw more action when the pilots at Mugu and the longshoreman and seabees at Port Hueneme kicked back at the end of the day.
The two female agents walked over to the receptionist. "Master Chief Petty Officer Rawls is expecting us." The Petty Officer pointed them towards a man in his 40s with two stars topping his sleeve insignia.
They walked over and after introductions were exchanged, briefed the Chief on the case.
"Mazzuno huh, you'll want Costa." Rawls pecked at his keyboard, muttering "I still cannot type," as he did so.
"You seem pretty sure." Finally, Rawls succeeded in his aim and turned the screen around to show them a picture of Costa, which was supplemented by a relatively long list of charges for minor crimes.
"Mazzuno and Costa have always been thick as thieves, nothing really serious. Their last arrest was for a bar fight Mazzuno picked with some marines. Costa stepped in to help out his buddy."
"That's the spirit," said Kensi.
"Anyone else?" Nell asked.
"Not close, and not to tell you your job ma'am, you'd want to keep something like that to as few people as possible. There's not a lot to do aboard ship but talk. The fewer people who know, the less likely it is that someone will say the wrong thing at the wrong time. Costa's smart enough to know that at least."
"Do either of them have a vehicle?" Kensi asked.
Rawls pecked at his keyboard some more until he found the base vehicle logs.
"Costa doesn't. Mazzuno owns a black jeep." He gave them the plate number and its space while Mazzuno wasn't in base housing. "Mazzuno and Costa are due to check out for a two day leave in less than an hour. Do you want me to put that on hold?"
"No, let's not do anything to spook them."
"I'll call the gates, make sure there's no random search of the jeep."
"Thanks Master Chief."
"Any time ma'am."
The two agents drove to the parking structure. Nell reached into the back seat to grab a real time tracking kit.
"I've got it," said Kensi. Nell wasn't going to fight her.
After a few minutes, Nell saw Mazzuno walking towards his car, carrying a large gym bag.
"Kensi, Mazzuno's coming."
"I'm almost done."
Nell hesitated, trying to decide what to do. She couldn't allow Maazuno to proceed, or he would see Kensi and her gear lying next to his car. Confronting Mazzuno would blow their cover. Then she saw the steering wheel. She pressed once on the horn. Mazzuno looked in her direction, but she was already leaning down into the passenger seat.
"All done." Kensi said. Nell breathed a sigh of relief.
Mazzuno placed his bag in the trunk of his car and drove off.
Kensi got back into the driver's seat. "Nice work with the distraction."
"It was nothing."
"It was quick thinking, don't sell yourself short." Kensi closed her eyes and sighed. "I meant-."
Nell smiled. "I know what you meant." Nell picked up the camera from its place at her feet. "Now don't let him get away."
Deeks was riding his motorcycle. One of the few benefits of losing a job he'd come to love was that Henrietta Lange no longer controlled his life. As he turned a corner, he looked back. Sure enough, the same car was still following him.
He drove around the block again, checking at each corner. They weren't cops. They'd have broken off at such a basic counter-surveillance tactic, preferring to reacquire later. Obviously less experienced.
He rode down through a series of random turns before speeding up, then quickly turning into an alley. He parked his motorcycle behind a dumpster, dismounted and drew a collapsible baton before crouching down. The surveillance car drove by. Deeks stood up and smashed the driver's side window. Then he drew his pistol, an unregistered one he kept for when he wasn't at work, and leaned in the window, making sure to cover both occupants.
"License and registration please." He said to the driver.
"How about fuck you." Clearly not a co-operative guy.
"Who do you work for?"
"Your mother, I just got done three-waying her and your sister." Max screamed in his ear to open the door and pummel the man senseless. The more rational part of his mind said that was a bad idea, no matter how immediately satisfying it would be, at least until he had more information. He settled for slamming his fist on the door. "NAME."
The man said, "why don't you ask your boss."
Deeks drew the knife he kept in his belt and buried it in the front and rear driver's side tyres. Then he got back on his motorcycle and headed off. He called Partridge. "I need to see him."
"So I've heard. You know where Rick's is?"
"Everybody goes to Rick's."
"Meet me there."
Ten minutes later, Deeks walked into Rick's. Thornhill, Partridge and another man in a waiter's outfit were seated at a table. Thornhill and Partridge rose as he walked in. Partridge moved his hand behind his back, probably reaching for a pistol but Thornhill did nothing other than extend his hand. A token of respect, perhaps. He hadn't spent enough time with the guy to really know him. Either way, he was shaking before he knew what was happening. It had an oddly calming effect.
"Mr Gentry. Please sit. I don't believe you know Alain Charnier, he works here, and also for me," he said, with particular emphasis on the last part. Apparently Alain was inside the circle of trust.
Deeks nodded to the Frenchman but decided to get to the point."You're having me followed."
"How do you know it was us and not the police?"
"I've been followed by cops before. This was different. And you haven't answered my question."
Ernest turned to Partridge. "Good instincts." He turned back to Deeks. "Yes, my men were following you. Before you lose your cool. We were checking you out, we check everybody out."
"I thought you wouldn't need to after what I did for you."
"Saving my life buys you my eternal gratitude, not my trust. I have never made an exception for anyone and I'm not going to start now. You may not like it but this is not heaven, this is the world and there are troubles in it."
"I thought you were nice."
"I'm polite, not nice."
"Fine, but I don't like being followed."
"Then you will be happy to know that that's over." Deeks relaxed internally, even as he suppressed the external signs. They were letting him in.
"Oh?"
"For starters, there's clearly no point now. And I'm satisfied that you're not a cop. And I need you your expertise on a job."
"My expertise?"
"Your experience. Something many of us lack, when my brother was sent away, a lot of people went with him." Funny phrase, sent away. Poor phone discipline had landed Roger Thornhill twenty years in prison for conspiracy to distribute.
"I don't exactly have a lot of experience moving drugs."
"You're job isn't to test or sell the product, that's Alain's end, but unlike him you've dealt with the higher end of the criminals before, I want you there to back him up and make sure it looks right. If it is, Alain will make the final arrangements, but if you think something is wrong, just walk away."
"Alright."
"If you have any concerns, now's the time."
"Do you know these guys?"
"They've been checked out. As have the people on the other end. They own about twenty tanks, believe it or not, reasonable guys though." Thornhill had been to Afghanistan himself, Frank Lucas-style.
"The product?"
"Afghani heroin. 40 kilos, 90% pure. We buy for fifteen grand a kilo, knock it into 60 kilos and then sell them for twenty grand each."
"Where's the meet?"
"Parking building on Castro. 4pm tomorrow. Pickup for the gear will be in the day after."
Sam and Callen were sitting in the Challenger. Callen sucking on a lollipop. Sam was making small origami swans. Talia and Peterson were at the other end of the block. Robertson, Jameson, Kensi and Nell were watching the other entrance. They had followed Mazzuno's car as he picked up Costa and then to a parking structure in East Hollywood.
A tall man, blonde hair on the long side, surfer's build in a leather jacket and jeans rode up on a motorcycle, followed closely by a Prius, and drove into the parking structure.
"Was that?" Talia asked.
"No it wasn't," said Callen
"I'm pretty sure it was."
"It wasn't," said Sam.
"Was what who?" Kensi asked.
"The buyers might be here," said Callen.
"Callen and I will go in," said Talia. "The rest of you be ready to follow when they come out."
Callen and Talia headed into the structure.
"Talk to me Eric."
"Third floor, northwest corner."
When the pair spotted the meeting, Talia pulled out a directional microphone.
Deeks tried to keep an eye on the two navy men. Both were armed, but on the other hand they were also store clerks, not a lot of actual combat experience. They weren't going to be a problem. Though they might try something stupid.
"You have the product?"
The taller man popped the trunk. Inside was a large gym bag with forty kilos of heroin inside.
Deeks took another look at the men, trying to get a read on them. Nothing seemed out of place, they were nervous, but there was no apparent deception. Either they were honest or very good liars. "We're good," said Deeks.
Alain stepped forward and pulled a knife. Both navy men pulled pistols and Deeks pulled one himself. He could get them both, probably before one of them shot Alain, but then the line would be dead, not a good first day.
Alain realised what he'd done. "I'm just going to take a sample from one of the bricks."
The two navy men relaxed slightly. "You could have said so."
"Yeah well, I didn't, so put the guns away, alright."
"Your buddy first."
Deeks debated his decision for a second, but there was nothing to be gained by upping the confrontation. So he holstered his pistol. The two navy men reciprocated.
Alain spiked a small sample from one of the bricks, then dropped it into a small vial that he pulled from a jacket pocket. He pulled a small roll of tape from another pocket and sealed the hole. He mixed a small amount of reagent into the vial, shook it, and nodded in satisfaction when it turned a deep blue.
"90% pure, as promised," said the shorter navy man.
Alain nodded. "We'll make the exchange at 2pm in Northridge." Alain gave then the rest of the address.
"Not now?"
"I wasn't going to bring $200,000 to a meeting with people I'd never met."
"You try to screw us..."
"We're both going to get what we want, forgive me for being cautious."
"We'll see."
Deeks and Alain headed back towards their vehicles. "I really don't understand why you drive that thing." Deeks said, pointing at the Prius.
"It's the most common car in the state. What I don't understand is why you drive a contraption that not only sticks out like a sore thumb but if you come off it, you'll be paralysed, if you're lucky."
"The wind in my hair."
"You wear a helmet."
"Details, you've never wanted to ride raw American power?"
"That's why I have the Mustang."
Talia and Callen beat a hasty retreat downstairs as the meeting broke up.
The pair got into their respective cars. Nell, Kensi, Robertson, and Jameson headed off after Mazzuno and Costa. Sam put the challenger in gear and followed Deeks and the Frenchman in the Prius.
The two cars split paths. Sam and Callen followed Deeks.
Deeks stopped at some lights and Sam and Callen stopped two cars back. A Prius drove through the intersection, followed by Talia and her partner.
"Talia break off right now," said Sam.
"Why?"
"They're using counter-surveillance."
Sam turned to Callen. "Good to know he listened, I suppose."
"What do you think he's doing?"
"I don't know, maybe he's doing his own thing, maybe Bates is still using him."
"You don't waste good," Callen agreed. "When this case is over, we need to find out."
Sam nodded.
They rendezvoused with Talia a few blocks from the boat shed.
"You want to tell me what that was all about? Why didn't you tell me that Deeks was undercover with these guys?"
"We didn't know he was."
"He went back to LAPD?" Talia asked.
"Not exactly," Callen said. Talia quirked an eyebrow.
"You remember Detective Jonas Hodges?" Sam asked.
Talia frowned. "Corrupt cop, brought in for murder, money laundering, robbery a couple of months ago."
"Eight years ago, Deeks was part of his crew," said Sam. Talia's face went through all the various permutations of surprise.
"Yeah, that was our response too," said Callen.
"Why isn't Deeks in bracelets? Hell, why isn't he on trial?"
"The bosses didn't want to burn all the good cases Deeks had worked in the eight years since or the bosses who rose high in the interim."
"So they went trawling through the General Orders to find something else to fire him for," said Talia.
"Yeah," said Sam.
"And you're protecting him?"
"The man was tortured rather than give up my wife, so we didn't see him, and neither did you, or your guys," said Sam.
"And Kensi never knows," said Callen.
Talia nodded. "I'll pass it along. They together?"
"They were."
"And now?"
"I'm not so sure."
"I'll keep that in mind," said Talia before getting in to her car to head back to the office.
Callen turned to Sam. "Did that mean what I think it meant?"
"Who knows?"
Deeks, Alain and Thornhill were sitting together at a table in Rick's, discussing the finer points of basketball while several other patrons, all, Deeks had been told, members of Thornhill's crew, sat and drank and talked at various tables. They were interrupted when Graeme Partridge came into the bar. "The DEA knows about the line."
"How?"
"Don't know, but my guy says they're working with people from something called NCIS."
Thornhill raised his eyebrows. "I've never heard of them."
"I haven't heard of them either," said Partridge.
Thornhill turned to Deeks. "Have you heard of them?" Deeks shook his head. Sam and Callen were going to be pissed when they heard about this.
Thornhill turned to the others assembled in the room. "Would somebody please google NCIS?"
One of the men tapped away at a laptop. "Here we go, National Criminal Intelligence Service. They're British."
Alain looked at Partridge. "What the hell have we done to piss off the Brits?" Deeks could barely suppress his grin.
"Oh wait there's something else. Naval Criminal Investigative Service. Originally Navy, spun off as a civilian agency after the Tailhook scandal, responsible for investigating crimes involving Naval and Marine personnel."
"Oh, well that makes more sense," said Alain.
"We're going to need a new plan," said Thornhill.
"The DEA will have the courier's phones tapped by now," said Partridge.
"If they were the way in."
"They were."
"Then there's nothing we can do and they're not our people. We've got to look at the whole board. What could the DEA conceivably know about us."
"They could have seen me and Max meet with the couriers."
"They might come after you."
"If they don't have the drugs, then what do they have? Two guys talking smack in a parking lot."
"We'll need to check that with Bob, but either way we need to keep the drugs away from the DEA."
The men spent the next few hours making plans. When they were done, Ernest sat back in his chair. "Max, you'll run point on this."
"Me?"
"Him?" Partridge said.
Ernest turned to Partridge, pulled up close, Deeks could barely make out what was said but it sounded like "If he screws this up, we'll know." Then he turned back to the group. "Go home, get some sleep, we'll let our guys know what's going to happen tomorrow."
Deeks finished his drink and headed out.
Peterson and Jameson were watching the Navy men. The men went to a bar near the base, brought several rounds for everyone present and generally drew attention to themselves as much as possible. There was so much going on and the women who fawned over the sailors so obviously what was expected that neither of the two DEA agents noticed one of those women slip a cellphone into Mazzuno's pants pocket, nor did they see grizzled old Graeme Partridge sitting in the back of the bar, watching the proceedings with steely blue eyes.
Once Deeks got back to his apartment, he went into the bathroom, pulled a plastic wrapped phone out of the cistern and sent a text.
A/N: so what's Deeks' up to? I promise to reveal all, eventually. Assuming I'm subtle enough that you haven't figured it out already.