Proving Ground

Chapter 4

Callen pulled the frayed bill of his gimme cap down low as he entered the dimly lit pool hall alone. It had taken a lot of talking to keep Kensi from coming with him. She was worried about Deeks and had stubbornly insisted she needed to see him. With Sam's help, he'd eventually convinced her to run interference at the mission with Eric and Nell in case he was late getting back and Mosley started asking questions. Working undercover alone on this one just made good sense. It would make it easier for Deeks and for him. He'd left his phone with Sam, so if Mosley had someone ping it they would see that the two partners were together. If she decided to call, it would be a different story and Sam would have some quick explaining to do.

He settled on a stool at the bar and ordered a beer, getting the once over from the bartender. This was one of Max Gentry's former hangouts. It was the place he'd come looking for his old childhood friend Ray when he'd failed to go into witness protection because of a woman. That case had given all of them a glimpse into Deeks' past as well as their introduction to Max Gentry. Callen hadn't been sure what to make of that alias at the time, but he couldn't deny it was an effective one, especially after seeing Max up close and personal last night. Aliases came from a place deep inside, just enough a part of you to be convincing to those you were trying to fool. But Max Gentry was almost like an alter ego for Deeks, coming from a part of his personality he kept hidden and under tight control. Callen understood that more than the others, but he wasn't sure if Deeks even knew where he himself ended and Max began. He wondered if that was the reason Kensi was so upset when Mosley pressed for him to use that alias. If it was an alias at all. Maybe that was one of the things Mosley was trying to ascertain. She wouldn't be in her current position if she weren't astute. She must have read all of their case reports and personnel files. Maybe the Max Gentry character had been a red flag for her. She might have seen it as a point of vulnerability for Deeks. If he couldn't control his own alias or lacked the skills to work that alias to the agency's advantage, he could be seen as a liability, giving her just cause to terminate him. So she had put him at risk, applying pressure hoping that Max Gentry was his breaking point.

The secrecy and lies still rankled Callen. Mosley had undoubtedly known about the hijacked missiles before she'd proposed the phony undercover operation for Deeks. She had tossed him out there on his own as a lure to see who he might catch. She could have given the case to the team and sent Deeks in as Max with the backup he needed, but that would have meant acknowledging that he had the skills to pull it off. She hadn't done that, which only confirmed to Callen that she was exploring justifiable reasons for disbanding the team, with testing Deeks at the top of her list. If he lost control of his alias, or was unable to lure in anyone of substance, she would use that against him. If he did discover viable suspects, it was a win for her, which Callen thought was part of her plan all along. She wanted the credit, not caring that it was dangerous for Deeks. Once he made contact she was going to push him aside and run the operation herself, citing her lack of confidence in him and in the team to manage the operation. She could claim they had disobeyed orders if they were found to be in contact with Deeks, allowing her to put a black mark on their records, and build a case against them for insubordination. Why she was going to so much trouble to justify splitting up the team could only mean she was being watched as well. She had to show just cause for her actions to someone higher up the food chain.

When he heard the bartender swear under his breath he looked over toward the door. Morning light spilled into the dark interior as Max Gentry strolled in as if he owned the place. A hush momentarily fell over the room until Max slid onto a barstool close by and stared unblinking at the man behind the bar.

"Hey Max. Been awhile," the bartender said nervously, setting a shot glass down in front of him and filling it with whiskey. "Some of the guys thought you were dead."

Deeks didn't reply, simply downed the shot and looked around, briefly catching Callen's eye.

"Why'd they think that?" Max finally asked the man, and not in a friendly way. "Somebody spreadin' lies about me?"

"You ain't been around for awhile, Max," he replied. "Guys talk, you know? Somebody said you got pinched, then a regular said he'd heard you got shanked in prison. You know how it is Max?"

"Yeah, I know," he said. "Fuentes and Baldo been around?"

"Naw. Not today," the man replied. "They were hangin' around here last week though."

"Who they been runnin' with?" Max asked.

"I don't want no trouble, Max," the man whined.

"Then tell me."

Callen watched the bartender's expression change to fear, and it surprised him. Max Gentry's dark reputation was real. What he had done to build that reputation was something Callen could only guess at, and none of his guesses were pleasant ones. The cocky surfer he thought he knew had morphed into someone men were afraid to anger.

"They came in with a foreigner last week," the bartender said, keeping his voice low. "Never seen 'im before. Heavy accent. Beard. Kinda slick. Wore a suit. Never smiled."

"Hear a name?" Max asked, throwing a couple of twenties on the bar.

"Heard Baldo talkin'. Called him The Turk, but not where he could hear."

"Anything else I should know?" Max asked.

"Heard these guys don't mess around," the bartender said. "Rumor is they cut off one of their own guy's hand cause they thought he stole from 'em."

"I'll remember that," Max said.

"Hey! You two gonna talk all day? I need another beer down here," Callen said, slamming his beer bottle down on the bar top.

As the bartender turned to comply, Max Gentry gave Callen his full attention. "What's your problem, asshole?"

"I wasn't talkin' to you," Callen's voice was filled with arrogance as he turned to challenge him. "I came here for some peace and quiet and to have a few beers, and instead I have to sit and listen to you two babble on about your Facebook friends."

Max moved fast, grabbing the front of Callen's jacket, shoving him off the barstool and pushing him backward until he hit the far wall. Caught off guard for a moment, Callen fumbled in his jacket pocket for the tiny overwatch spray bottle. As he pulled it out, he got his other hand up under Max's arm and using his leg for leverage, forced him around until he had his back against the wall. He quickly sprayed the overwatch solution on his chest and neck as they grappled. Max smiled and then hit him, knocking him backwards and making him stumble up against the edge of the bar. Callen felt a flash of anger, and for a split second thought about hitting him back, but decided it would only complicate things. He could see that Max was ready for the fight to continue, and maybe even welcomed it, so he held up a hand to indicate he'd had enough, mumbling apologies as Max took a step towards him.

"Get the fuck outa here, man," Max growled, shoving him toward the door. "And pay your tab. No freeloaders allowed in here."

The outside light blinded him as he stumbled out the door with a hand over his eye. Deeks packed a solid punch. It hadn't been part of the plan, but he'd seemed to enjoy it. Maybe it was payback for last night. Whatever had been going through his mind, their little fight had served notice that volatile Max Gentry was back in town. As he unlocked his car and slid inside he went over the information Max had gotten out of the bartender. It had been like listening to a completely different person. He'd been intimidating, using his reputation as a badass to get needed information. Now that they could track him he felt better, but not completely. The danger remained.

He'd picked up a burn phone on the way here and pulled it out to call Nell. "Is it working?"

"I'll have to call you back, Dad," she said in a rush. "But, if you're asking about Mom's gift…Yes. I did get it."

His exchange with Nell foreshadowed just how difficult secretly watching over Deeks was going to be. They would all be under scrutiny from Mosley and possibly Hidoko. He still didn't trust her. Not like Sam did. She had come here with Mosley. It was part of her job to keep the woman informed about daily operations and on what all of them were doing at any given time. Having Nell and Eric track Deeks made them vulnerable, and quite possibly put their jobs at risk as well, and he didn't want that to happen.

"Sam? Operation overwatch spray is a success," he said as he looked in his rear view mirror to check his eye.

"How's he doing?"

"He punched me in the eye."

"Why? What did you say?"

"Just think of me as your surrogate," Callen replied. "Now I have to explain to Mosley how I got a black eye."

"Tell her I hit you…during our morning workout," Sam said, sounding a little too gleeful for his taste.

"And how is that believable?"

"Oh, it's believable, partner. She'll buy it in a heartbeat," Sam laughed. "Now meet me at Figtree's. Someone wants to buy us breakfast."

"Who?"

"Just get your ass down here, G."

Callen could only shake his head as Sam ended the call. He was hungry though, and maneuvered out of his parking spot and headed down to Venice. It didn't take him long to figure out who was springing for breakfast, and he smiled, looking forward to seeing her again in better circumstances. Hetty had been back for a while, but had sequestered herself while she recovered. They all suspected that Nell knew where she was, but no one had pressed her for the information. Hetty deserved her privacy and the time to process what had happened to her. He'd missed her, though, so he was looking forward to having some pancakes and bacon and hearing what she had to say. He was fairly sure this wasn't a social occasion. She wanted back in.

Parking was a bear, so he finally pulled into the closest hotel and valet parked. He went in the front entrance and walked straight out the back to the beach, jogging up the boardwalk to the restaurant. Sam had already commandeered a table outside, and he wasn't surprised to see Kensi there as well.

"I ordered you the breakfast special," Sam said in greeting.

"It's not vegan is it?" He asked as he sat down and smiled knowingly at Hetty.

"They call it a puffed pancake, Mr. Callen. It does come with a healthy amount of fruit, but it's all covered in powered sugar," Hetty said. "And I ordered enough bacon to clog all of our arteries."

"How is he?" Kensi asked.

"Gave Callen a black eye," Sam said with a smirk. "Looks like he's doing just fine to me."

"This is your fault," Callen said to his smiling partner, his mouth watering as a pancake the size of a small pizza was set down in front of him.

"No, Mr. Callen," Hetty said. "This lies at the feet of the Executive Assistant Director. Nell sent me the audio file from last night."

"I'm sorry he hit you Callen, but does he seem okay?" Kensi asked.

"As okay as Max Gentry gets. He did smile before he punched me, so I'm pretty sure it was Deeks getting some payback," Callen said. "He got some decent information about the men involved. I think they're Turkish, if the name he got is any indication."

"Turkey borders Syria," Hetty said. "They could be looking to sell their wares there."

"Then they must not have contacts in Syria, if they're trying to sell to someone here," Sam said.

"Unless the Syrian buyer is coming to LA," Kensi added.

"Let's hope not, or the guy Mosley sent to Deeks' place won't have a chance in hell of getting inside," Callen noted.

"I'll see what I can find out about Mosley's man," Hetty said. "Hopefully he's a decent undercover."

"Hetty, if Mosley finds out you're looking at him, she'll know Deeks contacted us," Kensi said.

"Don't worry, my dear. I know how to search in the dark," she replied. "I haven't cut all my ties with Washington. If Mosley pissed off all of you, I'm sure she's pissed off others."

"Does this mean you're coming back?" Callen asked.

"Not in any official capacity. Not just yet," she replied. "I believe I might be of more assistance if I stick with a low profile while I keep track of Mr. Deeks."

"Hetty…you're willing to help us?" Kensi asked, finally smiling.

"Why wouldn't I? You're still my team," she replied. "And I don't like the way Mosley handled this whole thing, or how she pushed Mr. Deeks out in the cold."

"I talked with Nell. The overwatch signature is working," Callen said as he bit off a piece of bacon.

"Good. She can drop the scanner by my place after work," Hetty said. "I have an operations room already set up."

"And just where is this place of yours?" Callen asked. "We were under the impression you'd divested yourself of all your properties before disappearing."

"I didn't disappear, Mr. Callen," she replied. "I knew exactly where I was at all times."

"Yeah, well…you could have made it easier for us to find you," Sam grumped.

"Perhaps that would have been a good idea, Sam," she acknowledged. "Which is why I want to monitor Mr. Deeks. If things go sideways, we need to be able to find him quickly."

"Eric said Deeks is supposed to check in with Mosley daily," Kensi said. "He'll let us know if he misses a call in."

"You still haven't told us where you're staying, Hetty," Callen said. "Or are you keeping that a secret too?"

"That sounded as if you're a little bit angry with me, Mr. Callen," she said.

"You went off on your own without telling anyone where you were going," Callen replied.

"I wasn't aware I needed to get your permission before taking care of unfinished personal business," she said. "I recall you doing something similar…quite a few times, actually."

"She's got a point, G," Sam said.

Callen made a concerted effort to rein in his emotions. Her secret mission to Vietnam had scared him, but she didn't seem the least bit sorry that she had left him in the dark.

"We all have our crosses to bear, Mr. Callen," She said, looking intently out at the ocean. "Mine was the loss of a loyal young friend, who shouldn't have had to suffer for my mistake. I don't want to see Mr. Deeks suffer either due to the misguided machinations of a woman climbing the proverbial ladder."

"Agreed," Callen replied, realizing he'd gone off point.

"Good. Then I'll see you all for dinner tonight at my new home," she said cheerfully. "I'll send the address to your phones."

"Can you give us a hint where it is?" Sam asked.

"And what it's like?" Kensi added hopefully.

"Topanga Canyon. And…it's nothing like me," Hetty replied. "I thought I'd make a change. This one is modern. Good, solid lines. All redwood and concrete. I haven't quite warmed to it, but the views are spectacular."

"Deeks would like it," Kensi said, sounding wistful.

"I'm sure he will, dear," she said kindly. "Perhaps he can help me flip it when he's back safe and sound."

Kensi's eyes shimmered briefly with tears, but she quickly blinked them back. "I just hope it ends soon. The longer he stays in that alias the more I worry. I mean…I know he can handle it, but when he's Max…"

"It's like a light has been turned off," Callen said, recalling the darkness he'd seen in Deeks' eyes.

"Even their smiles are different," she replied. "And I miss Deeks' smile."

"Hell, I even miss his stupid jokes, and it's only been a couple of days," Sam said with a laugh.

"He could take one's mind off the seriousness of a situation," Hetty added.

"Well, he's in one now," Callen said solemnly.

There was a sense of melancholy as they finished their breakfast and paid the bill. There was a piece missing, and that left them all a little off balance. It was good to have Hetty home, but they all felt Deeks' absence keenly, especially Kensi. The anger he had previously felt with Hetty, was now directed once again toward Mosley. She was messing with his team, and as hard as he tried, he could find no good reason for it, or why she chose to go at Deeks this way. He had asked her earlier if she was trying to get him killed. Now he wondered if that might not be a distinct possibility, whether she intended it or not.

Deeks felt ornery, drinking more than he should as he waited to see if Fuentes and Baldo would show up. He recognized a few of the patrons, but no one came over to talk to him. It was just as well. He wasn't interested in a chat, and his surly attitude was probably the reason everyone was keeping their distance. That and his run-in with Callen. When he'd realized he'd enjoyed hitting the senior agent his mood soured. Max was the one who held a grudge, not him. Maybe his little tussle with Callen had deepened his dive into Max Gentry's personality, which in the long run probably wasn't a bad idea. It had been awhile since he'd been deep undercover, so he had to settle into his alias if this was to work. He might not like Max, but he was the right man for this job, so he needed to fully commit.

"Heads up, Max," the bartender said.

Fuentes and Baldo sauntered in the door, pausing as a man stepped in between them and scanned the room. He was a big man, which the bartender had failed to mention in his description, but everything else fit. His hair was dark and longish, slicked back from his forehead, and his beard was sparse. He had a prominent nose, and his eyebrows were like a dark gash across his features. His eyes were a startling blue. It was obvious he wasn't pleased to be here, chewing the inside of his mouth with irritation.

"Hey, Max," Baldo called out, causing the so-called Turk to quickly turn his way.

The three men had a hurried, whispered conversation, but the man waved them off and started toward him. Max motioned for the bartender to bring another drink, and pushed it toward the man as he approached.

"If you've been spending time with those two you probably could use a drink," Max said easily, holding his glass up in toast.

The man hesitated, but then nodded and picked up the shot, clicked his glass, and downed it. "I prefer raki, but it is difficult to find in your country."

"Where you from?" Max asked.

"Istanbul. It is in Turkey," the man said with a condescending smile.

"No shit."

"You know of it?"

"We're not all as ignorant as Fuentes and Baldo," Max said, getting angry looks from the two men who had come up to join them.

"You are Max Gentry, yes?" He said. "You have quite a reputation. Some say you are dangerous. Is this true?"

"Depends on who's asking'," Max replied. "That means I want to know your name before I answer your questions."

"Of course," he replied, frowning at his patronizing tone. "My name is Ali Sadik. But I would prefer that you call me Mister Sadik."

"Why's that?"

"As a sign of deference to your superior," he replied.

"Nice meeting you, Ali," Max said and swung his leg off the barstool and stood to face the man. "Have fun with the two stooges here. And good luck finding a buyer for your recently acquired merchandise. I would have been happy to help you with that, but I don't do business with pompous assholes."

"I have killed men over an insult like that," the man said, his jaw now rigid.

"You can try," Max replied. "Or you can take me to your boss so we can work a deal."

"Why don't you think I am the boss?"

"Cause there is no way in hell a man who orchestrated a job that big would come down here to a place like this with two yo-yo's like Fuentes and Baldo. He'd send someone like you."

"I should have killed you last night," Sadik said.

"Yeah, you should've," Max growled and took a step closer.

"I don't think I like you, Gentry."

"I don't like you either, Mister Sadik, but that shouldn't stand in the way of getting a deal done," Max said. "I asked around. That's quite a haul your boss needs to move, and I'm in contact with just the man who can make that happen."

"I thought you told Fuentes you weren't interested," Sadik said.

"Came to the realization that going straight is boring," Max said. "Man's allowed to change his mind, right?"

"I don't think working with you is a good idea," Sadik replied. "The Feds have shown an interest in you. Am I not correct?"

"Yeah, they questioned me. But if they had something that linked me to that job, they wouldn't have just roughed me up, they would have arrested me. They got nothin'. They're done with me."

That seemed to make sense to the man, but he knew he hadn't won him over just yet. He stared at Max and then slid a phone out of his jacket pocket and turned and walked away, speaking to someone in what he could only guess was Turkish, or whatever language Turkish people spoke. He was antsy, knowing this was the critical moment when the operation was either a go or a complete failure. What happened next would determine his future at NCIS. He struggled to act nonchalant, not wanting to seem too anxious and cause suspicion. When the man turned, he didn't look happy, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Mr. Yavuz wants to see you," Sadik said coldly.

"You don't seem real happy about that," Max said.

"I argued against it," he replied. "But, he is willing to listen if it gets us to our objective."

"Which is?"

"None of your business," Sadik said. "You are simply a middleman. Nothing more."

"All right. When can we meet?" Max asked, his heart racing. "I'll call my guy and we can get this deal going."

"You first, then your contact," Sadik said with a slight smile. "He has questions."

"Okay. Where and when?"

"Now, Mr. Gentry."

This was not going as planned, but he had no choice but to go with the flow, so he simply nodded and Fuentes ushered him outside. His thoughts were chaotic, so he fought for focus, steadying himself as he turned to head for the pickup truck Lamont had found for him.

"I'll follow you," he said.

"Not necessary. Baldo will drive us," Sadik said.

Fuentes stepped up beside him and Baldo was smiling as he opened the back door to a silver Mercedes. Max blew out a low whistle.

"How much this set you back, man?" Max asked as he stopped to admire the car. "Ninety, ninety-five grand?"

"The question is not of interest to me," he said. "Now, get in the car. Mr. Yavuz is waiting, and he is not a patient man."

"A rich one though," Max pointed out as he slid onto the fine leather back seat.

Sadik joined him and remained silent, the smooth purr of the engine the only sound as they pulled out into traffic. Max tried to start a conversation several times, but the man ignored him, adding to his nervousness. It had been a while since he'd felt this alone on the job. With no immediate backup, his nerves were on edge and his fingers twitched uncontrollably against the side of his leg. When they pulled into Rosedale Cemetery, Deeks was confused, but tried to ready himself for whatever was coming. He held back on the gallows humor he was so prone to use in uncomfortable situations, because it was something Max would never resort to.

"Strange place for a meeting," he commented, letting his irritation show.

Fuentes smiled as he turned around and pointed a gun at him.

"What the fuck is this?" Max growled.

"Hand over your weapon," Sadik ordered, his eyes dark under his heavy brow.

He did as he was told, wondering who the hell this guy really was, as Baldo took his gun.

"I'll want that back when this is over," Max said coldly, pleased when he saw him flinch.

"Now your phone," the man demanded.

He reluctantly handed it over, watching as he turned it off and removed its chip. Mosley would now be blind to his location, and he couldn't see that setting well with her. If it wasn't for the overwatch spray Callen had used on him, he'd feel more unsettled than he already was. He didn't have a good feeling about any of this, and his mood darkened even more when Fuentes handed him a black cloth bag.

"Put it over your head, Gentry, or get out here," Sadik ordered.

"Anybody ever tell you you're paranoid?" Max spit out.

"You want to do business with us, these are our rules," he replied. "Or I can have Fuentes shoot you. Your choice."

"Sonofabitch," Max mumbled, but reluctantly pulled the bag down over his head.

Sadik cinched it tightly around his neck and he felt a line of sweat trickle down the side of his face. He was blind and pissed, feeling claustrophobic as the car started moving again. He tried to keep track of what direction they were going, but eventually he gave up. The smell of the whiskey he'd had permeated the inside of the thick cloth bag, making him nauseous as he felt the car ascend and begin to follow a winding road. He was becoming more and more disoriented. Fear gnawed at the edges his mind, and he struggled to remain calm, not wanting the man beside him to know how anxious he was. He forced himself to relax his muscles and control his breathing, but his heart continued to race in spite of his efforts. What lay ahead he had no idea, but he keenly missed Kensi and the team he had so thoroughly come to rely on.