Castoffs
Chapter 6
...
The world emerged slowly. Dull and bleak. The early dawn sky colorless. The air tepid. The ride to the factory hadn't been far, but the terrain was rough. Twists and turns. Hills and valleys. In the dark with no break. Stark white cliffs hugged the left side of the trail like forbidding ghosts. The only sounds the grumbling of the horses and the scuff of their hooves in the dirt. He sympathized. They were riding double, Sofia and Julio trailing them. The constant movement on the back of the horse had been hard on his ribs and he was grateful when Ramon pulled the animal to a stop. The man remained silent as he slid off, moving forward on foot doing recon. He moved like a soldier, and Deeks guessed that at some point he'd had military training. He followed his progress until he reached the crest of the trail.
Looking beyond his position, a multistory building appeared, looming up out of the shrouded darkness of the early morning. It looked derelict. Built into the cliff face as if hung there by giants. Its age unknown. Its original reason for being obscure. Sections of its cement walls had crumbled over the years, the stonework at its base the same color as the cliffs. The far side was sheared off, exposing sad, empty rooms without a purpose. Earthquake probably. Used now by birds, animals, drug dealers, and rats…real and human. It had become a prison for young girls and teenagers, and he couldn't imagine how terrifying this haunted place must be for them.
A small owl suddenly called out as it flew past his head. It was chilling. An omen maybe, and not a good one. Ramon returned and said nothing. He took the reins and started to lead the horse up the trail.
"Wait!" Deeks whispered. "What's the plan?"
Ramon simply shrugged, and once again he had doubts about trusting the man.
"At least tell me what you saw," Deeks demanded, wondering if he was walking him into an ambush.
"Nada. No movement."
Deeks slid off the back of the horse, determined to walk behind the man until they got close enough for him to do his own assessment. The last thing he wanted was to be on the back of a grumpy horse if a firefight irrupted.
As they dropped over the crest of the trail, the first thing he saw was a small stone outbuilding with no door. In a pen beside it were a couple of horses and more goats. Bales of hay were stacked along a stone wall that led to the trail. Ramon motioned for Sofia and Julio to dismount.
"Wait here with the horses," Ramon whispered and quickly trotted down to the building, disappearing inside.
"He is a good man," Sofia said softly, sensing his concern.
"I'll have to take your word for that."
Ramon suddenly stepped back outside and motioned them forward. When they reached him, he hustled them inside. It was stuffy and smelled of oats and hay. A small cot was barely visible along the far wall. A crude table and chair the only other furniture.
"Octavio…el hombre cabrío lives here," Sofia said. "The goat man."
"The animals have been fed, so Octavio must be at the factory," Ramon said. "I'll bring the horses up."
"Is Octavio someone we need to worry about?" Deeks asked.
"No, amigo," he replied. "He is an old man. Almost blind. He has been here for many years. Before Mata and his crew."
"What was this place…before?"
"No lo sé. No one knows…or asks," Ramon said, and headed back to get the horses.
Deeks walked out into the early morning darkness alone to stare at the structure jutting out from the cliff. There was a solemn eeriness to it. Massive in scale, it was a destitute hulk of a place. Abandoned and then reclaimed for evil. Now, young girls were being held hostage there, doing whatever they were told or forced to do without a choice or an end in sight. The place looked evil, and he became even more determined to free them. He still had no clear-cut recollection as to why he had been undercover, or what his assignment entailed. But if he could stop the human trafficking going on here, at least he would have accomplished something good.
"There's more," he whispered to himself. "More than drugs and trafficking. I know it. Dammit! Think, Deeks."
But nothing came. Just Ramon returning with the horses. He put them in the corral, fed them and left them saddled. Sofia had put Julio down on the cot and he was sleeping when they entered.
"I can't leave him here alone," she said, sitting down beside the boy.
"We'll be back for you," Deeks assured her.
"I hope you are right, Martin," she said. "I will pray for you both."
Ramon said something in Spanish he didn't understand, and Sofia's expression changed. She looked at him with sadness in her eyes and once again he wondered how far he could trust this man.
"Ramon has lost his faith in God," she finally said. "He wants no prayers. Do you?"
"I'll take all the help I can get," he replied with a quick grin. "Come on, Ramon. I got your back."
They moved stealthily toward the foreboding factory. The sound of generators scored an undertone of malice. Tall, temporary light stanchions punctuated the yard, casting pools of light on the field that fronted the building. Deeks turned to look for Ramon but found himself alone. He hadn't heard the man leave and the hair rose on the back of his neck.
"Sonofabitch."
When he heard a whimper, he squatted down, trying to make himself as small as possible in the open field. Then he saw her. A young, dark-haired girl, her struggle illuminated by one of the lights as she fought to pull away from a large man dragging her toward the shadows. She looked so thin and desperate, but she wasn't going easily. The rage he felt was sudden and he pulled the pistol he had taken from Ernesto. Without another thought, he charged forward as silently as he could. The man never saw him coming. He hit him hard with the butt of the gun and the bastard dropped without a sound and didn't move. The girl was stunned but stared at him with ferocity. She was prepared to fight him too.
"I won't hurt you," he told her in Spanish, securing the weapon behind his back. "My name is Deeks. I came with Sofia…to help you all escape."
"¿Es verdad? ¿Sofía está aquí?"
"Si. She's at the goat man's hut," he said, forgetting his Spanish. "Octavio's casa."
"You are the Americano?" She asked in halting English. "Te están buscando…they look for you."
"Yeah, I know," he replied. "What's your name? ¿Cómo te llamas?"
"Her name is Lucía," Ramon said, appearing out of the dark.
"Where the hell did you go?" Deeks asked.
"¿Por qué? Were you afraid?" He asked with a half grin, pointing at the man on the ground. "You had no trouble with Garcia. Si? Is he dead?"
"No. But I expected us to do this together."
"I needed to see who was still here," he replied. "It was easier without you. ¿Entiendes?"
"Yeah. Got it," Deeks replied, but still unable to let go of his suspicions.
"Lucía…¿Cuántas chicas hay aquí?" Ramon asked.
She looked at Ramon and then at Deeks and answered in English. "Fifteen girls are left. Mata took the four youngest away with him on the boat…and the other Americano took Rosie."
"You mean Stokes?" Deeks asked, stunned by the implications.
"You know him?" She asked and took a step back. "Él es un hombre malo... mezquino."
"Mezquino?" Deeks didn't know the word.
"Mean. He is a mean sonofabitch," Ramon said. "A bad man."
An image of a man suddenly floated through his mind. Though he couldn't quite see his face, he remembered feeling on guard around him. He'd had a gut feeling that the man couldn't be trusted, and he hadn't…not completely. But he was the agent in charge. That he did remember. He gave the orders…orders he was bound to follow. They had argued at some point. But he had followed Stokes' orders, and they had both ended up here. He'd turned out to be a dirty agent. Selling out your own men for money was one thing, but this…taking a young girl…was more than criminal. It was disturbing. And they were supposed to be the good guys.
"I'm sorry," Deeks said softly.
"No time to be sorry," Ramon said. "We need to tie up Garcia and get to the dock."
"Anyone else we need to worry about?"
"Not here. At the dock maybe."
"You recon the dock," Deeks said. "I need to have a look inside that factory. My memory is shit right now, but I know there is something important Mata was into here besides drugs and human trafficking. I just can't remember what."
Lucía looked at him strangely and then over at Ramon, saying something so rapidly in Spanish that he wasn't able to catch it all. She knew something, and so did Ramon.
"You holding out on me, amigo?" He asked.
"Lucía said Garcia took her to a locked room one time. Ernesto found them. He wasn't happy. Knocked Garcia around and told them never to speak about the room or what was inside. She's afraid now. She doesn't want to get in trouble."
"Ernesto's dead, Lucía," Deeks told her. "He can't hurt you."
"Mata will…if he finds out she talked," Ramon said.
"I won't tell if you won't."
A rapid conversation between the two left him clueless, but he knew they were trying to decide whether to trust him or not. He wasn't sure he trusted them either. Stalemate. Not something he needed right now.
"I don't expect you to put your lives on the line for me," Deeks finally said. "If I'm captured, protect yourselves. Sofia and Julio, too. But I really would like to see what's in that room. You know…in case we actually escape."
The two nodded and he felt a flood of relief. After another rapid-fire conversation, Ramon's expression softened.
"I will deal with Garcia," he said. "Lucía will take you to the factory. She wanted me to kill Garcia, but I told her you wouldn't agree to that. I told her you were an American federal agent here to destroy Mata and the factory. That made her happy. She hates him."
"Venga. Come," Lucía said. "Te lo enseñaré...I will show you the…lugar de miedo."
"The scary place," Ramon translated.
"Gracias, Lucía," Deeks said softly. "You are very brave."
"Estoy perdido," she whispered and took his hand.
It was heartbreaking to hear her say she believed she was lost. A lost soul trying to survive this hellhole and the horrible men who controlled her life. She couldn't be more than fourteen…just a child. Trapped and treated worse than an animal. He desperately wanted to free her and the others. He just hoped he could find a way to do it. He had to. What secrets the scary place held was another story.
Lucia led him through a weather-beaten wooden door that had once been painted a pale blue. Now, barely any color remained. A heavy chain threaded through one of the iron handles. As he helped the girl pull the door open, he heard her suck in her breath as if trying to steel herself against the pain of returning to what must be a terrifying place.
"I'm right here, Lucía," he whispered, hoping to encourage her.
She was skittish as she led him deeper inside. Strings of industrial lights hung on the walls, dimly illuminating the cold concrete corridor. The floor was just dirt, but the ceiling rose into complete darkness. It was creepy and airless, smelling of urine. The corridor eventually opened onto a large room, its corners full of shadows. There was one long table in the center, lined with dirty, white plastic chairs. A metal desk had been pushed up against the back wall. There was an old computer in the middle, files and stacks of papers, and several coffee mugs littered the surface.
As they moved deeper inside, he sensed movement off to his right and when the smell hit him, he gagged. A large enclosure built of chain link backed up against the side wall. Even the top was covered in chain link. Thin mattresses lay scattered across the dirt floor, some occupied by sleeping girls. There were no blankets. No pillows either. It was a squalid encampment of desperation.
Lucia called out and several huddled groups of young girls looked sadly out at her, but when they saw him, they shrunk back and closed ranks. Their only expectation of his arrival was more pain and abject fear. He didn't think he had ever been this angry. Lucia began a rapid conversation with one of the older girls and the others slowly got up to join her. They stared at him through the locked gate, unsure and distrustful. He didn't blame them. They'd been badly abused and had no reason to hope. He wanted desperately to change the deep sadness etched on their faces.
"They are hungry," Lucia said. "Garcia would not give them dinner unless they…they…"
"Lo entiendo," Deeks said, needing no explanation. "Where's the food kept?"
She pointed to a door across the room, and he nodded, striding angrily across the room and yanking the door open. It was a kitchen. There was a large electric stove and four refrigerators, all running off the generator in the corner. A worktable stood in the middle. It looked like Garcia had made himself a sandwich before he went after Lucía. He wanted to go back and kick the shit out of the bastard but getting those girls something to eat was more important. He was rummaging through one of the refrigerators when Lucía came in.
"You are hungry too?" she asked.
"Not really, but those girls are, and I'm going to feed 'em."
"What will they have to do…for the food?" She asked haltingly.
Her question and the look on her face shocked him badly, and for a minute, he wasn't able to say anything.
"Lucía…they don't have to do anything. Nada. Nothing," he said slowly. "¿Lo entiendes? Understand? I'm just going to get them something to eat. That's it."
Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. It broke his heart.
"Can you help me?" He asked. "What does everyone like?"
"Can we have Coca Cola? The men drink it all the time. They say it is not for us."
"Well, it is today," Deeks said with a big smile. "In fact, I'm going to let them all out of that cage and they can take whatever they want."
"No…no…we will get in trouble," she said in a whisper. "They will come back…"
"We're getting out of this place, Lucía. All of us," he replied, hoping she believed him. "Now open all those refrigerators and I'll go get the others. It's party time. Es hora de fiesta."
Her expression was a mix of euphoria and doubt. She wanted to believe but was afraid to. He wanted to change that. He found the keys to the locked gate in one of the desk drawers. When he unlocked the cage and threw it open, the girls backed away.
"¡Coca Cola para todos!" He shouted and raised his hands and snapped his fingers like he was doing the flamenco.
He heard one little girl giggle as he motioned for them to follow him back to the kitchen. The procession was a slow one, but once they saw Lucía and all that food they began talking excitedly and did what any teenager would do. They began to raid the refrigerators.
He left them to it and went to search the desk in the main room, hoping to find a satellite phone. When he didn't find one, he sat down at the computer, but it was password protected.
"Oh, buddy. You are in deep shit without a ladder."
Letting out a soft groan as the pain in his ribs and wounded arm surged, he suddenly felt very tired.
"¿Señor Deeks?" Lucía said as she came up behind him. "¿Estás bien?"
"I'm fine, chica."
"I brought you something to eat. A burrito. You know burritos?"
"Lucy girl. I love burritos," he said with a grin.
When he took a bite, old memories flashed through his mind. A street in LA. Food trucks. Hand painted signs. The sweet smell of pork with a hint of sea salt. He was standing with the dark-haired woman…Kensi…and two men. One black. One white. They were laughing at him, but not in an unkind way. He couldn't put a name to either face, but he somehow knew that they were friends.
"¿Está bueno, Deeks?" She asked when he stopped eating in mid bite.
"Best burrito I've ever had."
"And probably your last," a voice called out from the dark corridor.
Deeks dropped the burrito and pushed the girl behind him. "Go back to the kitchen, Lucia, and shut the door."
"I was hoping you were dead, Deeks," the man said as he walked into the light pointing a Glock at him.
"Best laid plans, amigo," Deeks said. "You must be Stokes, the Americano the girls call mezquino. A mean sonofabitch."
"That I am, Deeks. That I am."
…
Callen knew something was up the minute Malloy stood up and stepped back from his computer. The man immediately turned to look at Kensi. Sam noticed his actions too, and when they locked eyes, his expression took the air out of him. Something was wrong, and Kensi rose slowly from her chair. The three of them converged on the man. It was early in the morning, Ferris had left, and there were only a few agents still at their stations. Kensi reached Malloy first, but stopped short, her hands held tightly in front of her mouth.
"What?" She asked without any breath.
"I've been monitoring Stokes' phone. Trying to reach him," Malloy said. "I haven't heard a thing until now. He sent a text."
"What was it?" Sam asked as he moved over next to Kensi.
"I'm sorry…"
"Just tell us what it said," Callen snapped.
He looked down at the phone then handed it to Callen, who quietly read the text out loud.
"Deeks dead. Mission blown. On the run."
"I don't…I don't believe it," Kensi stammered.
"You sure this is from Stokes?" Sam asked.
"Yeah…it's his phone," Malloy said. "And he used Deeks' real name. I don't think Mata knows it."
"Unless Stokes told him," Callen said.
"What's going on?" Ferris called out as he walked in.
"We heard from Stokes," Malloy said.
Callen handed him the phone and they all watched as he read the text. His shoulders dropped and he absently rubbed at an eyebrow as he stared at the message.
"Did you respond?" He asked Malloy.
"No sir. Not yet. I wasn't sure what to say."
"Ask for proof," Kensi said. "Because I don't believe him."
"I know you think Stokes is dirty, but we have no reason to believe that," Ferris said. "There is nothing to indicate that he took money from Mata or sold out his two undercovers. He is a decorated agent…with friends in high places. And now it appears he's in trouble. I'm sorry about Agent Deeks…your husband, ma'am, but we have an op that's just been blown to hell, and I need to concentrate on that."
"And how to you propose to do that?" Sam asked.
The man looked irritated by the question, and Callen realized he had no idea what to do.
"Malloy? Text Stokes back. Ask him where he is," Callen ordered. "Tell him help is on the way. Let's see how he responds."
Malloy took the cell and started to text, then stopped. "It's dead. His phone is shut off or…"
"Is he using a satphone?" Sam asked. "Where'd he send that text from?"
"I'll run the coordinates," Malloy said and hurried back to his computer.
"He might be dead too," Ferris said.
"Or pretending to be," Kensi said.
"We can't assume that," Ferris snapped.
"Listen," Callen said. "The only thing we know for sure is where that helo crashed. So that's where we go."
"I can't authorize that," Ferris said.
"We don't care," Sam said. "We're going with or without your authorization."
…
…