A/N: Just a heads up, this universe diverges immediately before the season 6 finale. So, the journey to Russia was more of a rescue mission than a stop the terrorists plot like it was in OTL. I reference it here and I didn't want to confuse people.
Callen and Sam followed a suited man, with tattoos just poking out of his shirtsleeves onto Arkady's patio, "Arkady," said Callen in greeting.
"Callen. How are you? Did you miss me?"
"I'm glad your goons have stopped trying to keep us out."
"Is faster, what brings you to my home?"
"We need you to set up a meeting."
"What is in it for me?"
Sam raised his eyebrows. "What's in it for you?"
"I am businessman, is principal."
"Consider it repayment," said Sam, his frustration starting to show.
"Repayment?"
"The time you sent a goon to my house," said Callen.
"Or the time we rescued you from being drowned," said Sam
"Or flew to Russia to save your daughter," said Callen.
Arkady sighed. "What do you want?"
The three men crowded into one of Arkady's trucks. Callen could feel the toughness of the leather seating behind him. "If we search this car, what are we going to find?"
"Nothing."
"Arkady," Callen's voice lowered and he leaned forward.
"Nothing I cannot handle."
Callen thought that their ripples of their venture to the motherland were washing up on this side of the Pacific. Arkady had stood tall for them when the MVD had shown up after they rescued Anna.
"Who's giving you this trouble? Maybe we can help." Sam looked at him and raised an eyebrow. Callen kept his hand low and made a later gesture.
"Old comrade from the motherland. It is not a problem."
Callen shrugged. "While we're on the subject of the old country, what do you know about Tyodor Muscov?"
"He is big man in Russian mob. Everyone is Los Angeles answers to him," answered Arkady.
"Including you?" Sam said.
"I am not in the Bratva. I do not like tattoos."
"He have any enemies?"
"If anyone goes against him, he kills them, and their families, just to be sure."
"So that's a yes then."
"That is a yes."
Arkady pulled into an alley next to a scrap yard.
"We're not too close?" Sam asked.
"These guys are mobile, they think that is all the security you need."
"No lookouts, no cameras."
"They travel light and move quickly."
Then I think we'll be fine." Callen noted his friend's renewed focus on operational security. He was thankful for it, even agreed with it, but he couldn't help but be a little saddened by it.
The three men got out. Kensi and Deeks drove up a moment later.
"So, these guys are selling the rocket launcher,"
"Several. Apparently, they have a link to the factory."
"Okay, we tell them the truth, I want to buy a rocket launcher, why is not their concern."
Kensi stepped forward. "I'm coming in."
"Kensi-."
"My op, my lead." Deeks looked to Callen for support, who raised his hands, palms forward.
"You could try talking Detective to her," said Arkady.
It took Deeks a few seconds to put the pieces together "You saw that?
"Just stay away from severed pinkies."
"Let's go."
"Names?"
"Max Gentry," said Deeks.
Joanna Doyle," said Kensi.
"Who's Joanna Doyle?" Deeks asked.
"Just an alias I threw together, it's no big deal." Deeks' smile was rueful. "Let's go."
As Callen watched the Arkady lead the way, he had a feeling there was more to that story.
He felt Sam boring a hole in the back of his head. "What?"
"You really want to help Arkady take care of the competition?"
"He's a good informant."
"Good enough to risk jail for."
"I'm talking about taking Russian mobsters off the streets."
"Deeks would tell you that's how it starts."
The three men were all of caucuses extraction to Deeks and all had the look of men who had taken too much crystal meth. Arkady sure knew how to pick them.
"Good morning, gentlemen."
Deeks could see one of the men was carrying a nine mil, the barrel pointed directly at his penis. Amateur. But an amateur who could get his hands on a rocket launcher, a dangerous combination.
"Who're these two?"
"This is Max Gentry." The man's eyes widened slightly. It was so nice to be remembered. Deeks put on a front of barely restrained violence because it was important to keep up appearances. The fear on the men's faces had nothing to do with it.
"Who's the hottie?" Now the appearance reflected the reality. Deeks stepped forward, but Kensi beat him and Arkady to the punch, figuratively speaking.
"The hottie's name is none of your concern."
"Where's the rocket launcher?" Arkady said, attempting to cool tensions.
The gun dealers pulled a case from amongst the scrap metal and placed it on a conveniently placed barrel.
"Show us the money." Deeks half pulled the bundle of bills from his jacket. The tweaker armorer opened the case.
Kensi stepped forward and picked up the rocket launcher. "An AT-4 CS anti-tank shoulder launched recoilless munitions systems with 84-mm unguided rounds and a range of 300 meters."
The gun dealers nodded. "You happy?"
Deeks looked at Kensi, who nodded as she placed the rocket launcher back in the case. He turned to the dealer. "We're happy." He pulled the cash from his jacket and kept his other hand behind his back, close to his service weapons. He could feel as much as see Kensi, Arkady and the dealers tense up. If anybody was going to screw anybody, now was the time.
One dealer took the cash bundle as the other took his hand off the case. Kensi hefted the weapon and everybody slowly backed away from one another. Arkady led them out a door that conveniently meant no one had to turn their backs on anyone else.
It was only when they reached the alleyway that Deeks relaxed.
"You called Mitchell and Thompson?" Kensi asked.
"They're around the corner," said Callen.
Arkady turned sharply to Callen. "You did not tell me they would be arrested."
Callen shrugged. "They won't be, until we find their link to the supplier. Don't worry, there'll be no connection to you."
"You did not tell me."
"They're criminals," said Sam. "Catching them is what we do."
Arkady pressed his lips together. "This is me done?"
"It is."
"Then good day to you." Arkady got into his car and drove off.
Bauer turned to Sam and Callen. "Wasn't he your ride?"
"Yeah, he was," said Sam.
Rather than retrieving the Challenger from Arkady's house the group drove in the SRX to a garment factory in Vernon.
"You sure it's a good idea for him to come in here." said Bauer, looking at Sam.
"Aside from Kensi, there's no one I'd rather have watching my back," said Deeks.
"You know I'm sitting right here," said Callen.
"You're number three on my list."
"And Nell?" Kensi asked.
"I was trying to be nice and I'm just feeling so attacked right now."
"How about we get on with the job," said Sam. The team and Bauer got out of the car and headed toward the building.
At the door, they were met by two Aryans, one almost six feet tall, whose job was to deal with trouble and a smaller guy to take care of everything else. "Hands up." The smaller proceeded to give each of them a full pat down.
"Enjoying yourself there pal," said Callen as the man rose up.
"Oh, you're a comedian."
When the smaller man got to Kensi's mid-thigh and made a smirk as he proceeded higher, Deeks punched him in the face. The man tried to leap up and draw a pistol from behind his back, but Bauer kicked him in the face and then placed his boot on the man's chest. "Steady on there, Tinkerbell."
The downed man's compatriot looked at his friend, then at the five people standing in front of him. "Fair enough."
"I'll stay out here," said Bauer. "Make sure princess doesn't try anything else stupid."
Deeks led the way into the building. There were nine Aryans in the room.
"Max Gentry, your reputation precedes you."
"As a cultured man of taste?"
"As a man who sucks the good luck out of people."
"I can't help it if the LAPD is good at their job. Now show me the money."
"Perhaps we should just take the rocket launcher and keep the money."
Deeks smiled. Then he punched mighty whitey in the face. The man went down. One of the Aryans tackled him and the pair hit the floor. Deeks rolled in the racist's grip and brought his elbow into the man's side, causing him to release his hold. Deeks rolled and came to his feet. The Aryan tried to do the same, but Deeks didn't hesitate to kick him in the stomach. The white supremacist, whilst mentally flawed by definition, was not stupid enough to try to rise again.
Sam grabbed the wrist of a man as he raised up a pistol, twisted his arm out of the way, and broke the man's elbow with a palm strike before kicking the back of his knee to bring him down. He turned and brought the heel of his hand down on another man's face, shattering his nose. Another knee kick had the man on the floor as well.
Callen grabbed one Aryan and threw him against a massive sewing machine. Another Aryan grabbed him from behind. Callen pushed backwards until they slammed into the wall. This caused the second Aryan to loosen his grip and Callen reverse head-butted him. Callen broke the hold completely and brought the man's head down onto his knee. The first Aryan had recovered partially, so Callen put him down with a right cross.
Kensi punched one man in the throat before head-butting another. The ninth man raised his sub-machine gun. Kensi grabbed the .22 she had concealed in the front of her belt and shot him in the knee. The man fell, clutching his leg in pain.
"You are all under arrest," said Callen. The white supremacists just lay there groaning.
Sam looked down at the Aryans, a satisfied look on his face. "Well guys, thanks for being you."
The team walked outside to find Bauer standing over the larger Aryan. "All done?"
A quick search of the building led the team to a lift which took them down to the basement. There was almost everything Thornhill asked for, including the grenade launchers.
"This is what winning feels like, isn't it," said Bauer.
It took about an hour to load the trucks and spray everything with Overwatch. Then another two hours to contact Partridge a drop the weapons at the safehouse. Thirty minutes after that Sam and Callen were walking by, pushing a pram loaded with a porcelain doll and a pair of M4s, and placed a camera on a fence opposite the door.
Now Deeks was back in the Old Haunt, sitting across a booth from Ernest Thornhill.
"I heard you did good today," said Thornhill, after the waitress had deposited their beers.
"I do what I can for the good of the Company.
"Not that I'm opposed to racists getting the shit kicked out of them, but what's this I hear about the Aryans getting taken for 100 grand worth of firearms."
"Like you said, you're not opposed to racists having the shit kicked out of them. And I have the weapons you wanted."
"We don't need them coming back on us."
"They won't today, probably not tomorrow or the day after." Objectively true, and it helped if Thornhill thought Max short-sighted.
"But they will one day. Look at the whole board, Max."
"In the meantime, you have what you wanted."
Thornhill snorted. "Well, one step at a time."
A/N: Team work makes the dream work.
Regarding Joanna Doyle, there really is more to that story, it's called Dead But Not Forgotten by tobinfic on ffnet a.k.a fringedweller over on A03.
I realised writing this that Gentry is such a great name for mid-level criminal. Someone on the writing staff is clever.
As always, please leave your reviews, even if it's just a smiley face. They really are what sustains me.