Author's Note: Sorry about the delay in updates, real life has just been very hectic the past few months but I definitely haven't forgotten this story or my two upcoming ones which will be Sons of Anarchy-24 crossovers where Jax Teller and Jack Bauer appear together. One will be a modern day thriller dealing with Islamic terrorism and border issues while the other will be a sequel to the real 24.

CHAPTER 11: ALL ABOUT WHO YOU KNOW

WALNUT CREEK, CONTRA COSTA COUNTY

Just in case any witnesses led the authorities to believe the Sons from Charming were involved in what went down at the Sunvalley Mall, JT decided to take the detour south through Walnut Creek instead of heading directly east despite the injuries Lenny and Thomas had suffered. The tires squealed and the van tilted slightly as Keith, who was at the wheel, left Interstate 680 at the exit for Ygnacio Valley Road, which they would follow east in order to avoid the congestion and law enforcement activity in Concord and Pittsburg.

Several drivers honked at them as the Sons' vehicles sped down the wide suburban thoroughfare. Keith was still panting from the adrenaline that coursed through his body due to the action they had all just seen.

JT squeezed him on the shoulder. "Ease up on the gas there, Keith."

Keith turned as if to remind JT about their wounded brothers.

"They're stabilized right now," JT reassured Keith. "They'll make it. I know it's an hour to our destination, but they'll be able to hang in there. I doubt any of us wants the cops to pull us over and drag us to jail."

Keith nodded and slowed down on the accelerator to just 5 miles above the speed limit. It seemed in San Joaquin County, one could safely drive 10 above without being pulled over, but they were unfamiliar with Contra Costa County where the local police might enforce the speed limit more strictly. Besides, their vehicles were already older compared to the newer sedans and station wagons that seemed to dominate the traffic in this middle class Bay Area suburb.

"What the fuck was that? Those Mexicans weren't supposed to be there for another half hour or so. Goddammit!" Clay yelled, punching the wall of the van so hard that he left a dent in the metal.

"Look, I don't know what the hell's going on, but we need to stay calm, brother," JT said, taking a deep breath to stop panting. His nerves were also shot, and he worried about the conditions of his injured men and about the police dragnet that was being cast at this very moment. He could only hope that these suburban cops really were pretty unprepared for this kind of event compared to their counterparts in the cities.

"There must be some trust issues among the Mayans too," Piney said, "That's the only explanation I got. Are you sure we're still going to, I mean..."

"Yes, we stick to the plan, Piney, everyone," JT responded. "I don't think we have any better options right now. We follow through with the arrangements Thomas and Wally made, lay low for a while, and above all not draw any attention to ourselves."

He knew there would be some kind of response from the Mayans, no question about that, but that would have to wait until the dust settled. Right now, they needed to get as far the hell away from this place as they could.

JT turned up the dial on the radio and sure enough the regular sports updates was interrupted for breaking news. "In what can only be described as a scene out of a war zone, a peaceful afternoon of shopping was shattered at the Sunvalley Mall in Concord as suspected members of outlaw biker gangs opened fire on one another with automatic weapons and rocket propelled grenades. As of now 12 people, including 2 bystanders have been confirmed dead, though the death toll is expected to rise as police perform a full sweep of the crime scene which covers the entire food court area, parts of the Sears department store..."

He switched to another station. "Inner city violence shattered the calm of a suburban afternoon in Contra Costa County as…..conflicting reports also claim that one of the parties at the shootout are suspected members of the Weather Underground terrorist organization….reports from the scene describe large scale destruction throughout the building and a chaotic scene as shoppers desperately try to escape the violence. Northern California is already on edge following the Weather Underground bombing of the Armed Forces Credit Union in Lodi, and if the Weathermen was one of the parties responsible for what happened today this may be a terrorist in additional to a criminal investigation."

"Police have set up a number of roadblocks throughout the Concord and on major highways heading into Oakland but have not yet released any pictures or descriptions of any suspects they may be actively seeking…."

JT turned the radio off and checked his map again. They were in the clear for now."Keith, remember, no more than 5 miles above, or at least go with the flow. If everyone around is slowing down in a certain stretch, it's cause they're from there and they know something we don't."

Keith nodded and responded in his Northern Irish accent. "Aye, mate."

It was time, though, to make sure some of their enemies weren't. "I hope Wayne Unser can deliver on his part," JT said.

"He better," Clay said.

ORINDA BART (BAY AREA RAPID TRANSIT) STATION, ORINDA

Despite the news reports, there were a small number of cops who knew the Mayans would be involved including of course Wayne Unser. So far, all he got from the Sons was that Weathermen leader Jimmy Nelms, aka Comrade Jimmy had been shot dead by JT personally at the mall. The Mayan involvement had taken him by surprise, but they were still in control of the situation. And the moment Unser knew about the Deanna's escape, he was able to contact friends he knew in the Alameda County police. The distance between Concord and the core of the Bay Area bought them some time.

The Orinda station, on the BART's Yellow line, was an above-ground station located in the media of State Route 24, a busy multi-lane freeway connecting Oakland with its eastern suburbs. As such it was a perfect vantage point for Unser. He most definitely didn't expect the Mayans to take any alternative routes. The Mayans, like most street thugs, were mostly cocky, over-confident and lacked actual intelligence. After all, smart people didn't join gangs, especially if they were already illegal aliens living on the wrong side of the law. Unser scanned the westbound lanes for any of the vehicles, particularly larger ones that the Mayans can transport their bikes on. He also had other men stationed at other vantage points on the major approaches to Oakland and Berkeley.

During the weeks when the Sons were preparing their assault, Unser had enlisted Detective Ray Gao's help in compiling a list of bikes and other vehicles suspected to be owned by the Mayans, who also operated in some San Francisco neighborhoods, and gotten in contact with his friends in the Alameda County police who were also sympathetic to his off the clock activities. Initially, this had been to identify the Mayans showing up at the meet. Sure enough, he saw several bikes coming in front of the east and zoomed in on his binoculars. He could see that although they weren't wearing their kuttes, they were Hispanic and rode the Suzuki and Mazda bikes favored by that club. The clincher was that he saw one of them with a bloodied blonde female on the bike. That must be the Weather Underground bombmaker.

His friends in the other departments ensured that there would be no jurisdictional issues given he was operating outside of Charming city limits.

Unser rushed past several commuters waiting on the platform to the Pacific Bell payphone next to the escalators. The call went to the car phone of an officer parked across the Alameda County line, less than five miles from Orinda.

"Wayne, you got something for me?" the officer asked.

"It's confirmed, I count three bikes westbound on the 24 here in Orinda, they're headed straight for the Caldecott Tunnel."

"Alright, my guys are ready," his contact replied, "Follow them in case we need backup. We're meeting them on the other side of the tunnel as planned."

OAKLAND

"Shit, where are we? How much longer?" Deanna groaned as they hit another bump on the pavement. Jorge Ramos had accelerated the bike again to cut off a dump truck as they approached the Caldecott Tunnel.

"We are almost at the tunnel now! Still on Route 24." Ramos, who spent almost all his time in Oakland, rarely took this route and didn't even know the name of the tunnel. "We should be on College Avenue in less than 15 minutes," Jorge replied.

She was honestly surprised that these Mexicans had helped extricate her from the situation with the Sons at the mall, and were even escorting her back to Berkeley, even though she gave the location of a friend's house near the campus rather than an actual Weather Underground safehouse. She was sure these Mexican bikers wanted something, even if its the business relationship. She certainly hoped they weren't trying to re-negotiate their deal with Professor Rogers, especially with their go-between Antonio Garcia among the dead in Concord. Antonio had lived the experience of illegal immigration and growing up on the barrio's lawless streets. This fact alone helped him gain the trust and respect of the Mayans, something the Weathermen would have to now do on their own.

Jorge's intention was obviously to not be stuck behind that massive, slow moving dump truck in the tunnel, where changing lanes was both illegal and difficult. However as the pain from the pothole shot through Deanna's body, she wished he had just taken it easy. Neither them nor any of the other Mayan bikes, one in front and two behind, pay any attention to the green Ford F-100 pickup truck driven by Unser that passed several vehicles until they were only 3 cars behind the Mayan convoy.

Unser hung up the car phone as they entered the tunnel, knowing the telephone reception was nonexistent under the Berkeley Hills anyway. Besides, the plan was already set. He considered taking Bore 3, the tunnel of the left, but decided against it when it was clear the Mayans really were paying no attention to them. After all, his target wasn't a KGB agent looking to evade an FBI tail. They were simple gangsters from Oakland who only cared about rival gangs and cops, and no undercover cop would typically drive that pickup truck. While westbound traffic was light in contrast to the bumper to bumper gridlock coming out of Oakland, he couldn't risk losing the Mayans in case some unforeseen delay happened in the tunnel.

Unser squinted in the glare of the sun in the western sky as they suddenly emerged on the west end into Hiller Highlands, one of Oakland's few middle class neighborhoods. He followed them for a few minutes past the next exit where his Alameda County contacts entered the highway. Unser changed into the fast lane and accelerated, speeding past the Mayans without looking at them. A car length ahead, he changed back into the right lane, seeing the lead bike in the rearview mirror. Without warning, Unser slammed on the brakes hard.

Unser braced for the impact as the truck screeched to a halt, something the lead Mayan wasn't able to do. The lead bike rear ended the back of the pickup truck at over 50 mph, sending the biker slamming into the top of the cab, as the rest of his body slammed against the rear window, seriously cracking but not shattering the glass. Unser was quite sure the criminal was killed instantaneously by the impact.

Jorge was given more time to respond to the collision Unser had purposely caused, but his suddenly braking caused him to lose control, his bike spinning onto the shoulder and landing in a ditch. Both him and Deanna were flung off of it and landing on the grass next to a metal fence separating the freeway from the adjacent neighborhood.

The last two bikes were able to stop in time, their riders shouting some Spanish profanity.

Unser pretended to be unaware of the first biker's fatal injuries as he stepped out of the cab. "Jesus Christ, man, my truck's all ruined. Do any of y'all know what a safe distance even means? Or can you not even understand a fucking word of English?" He purposely egged them on for a reason. "I just hope you don't find some activist lawyer to somehow say this is my fault."

"What the fuck is your problema, gringo?" Jorge demanded as he walked back onto the freeway, seeing his comrade was clearly deceased. "My friend…."

"Didn't you see that dog run across right in front?"

"A dog? My friend may be dead because you wanted to stop for a fucking dog, gabacho?"

Jorge came swinging at Unser, who blocked the blow. The other bikers drew their weapons, but Jorge screamed in Spanish for them to back him up without resorting to force given that the cops would be there at any time.

However Unser's friends in the Alameda County PD were already there waiting to respond. Jorge struck Unser with a brutal uppercut, Unser falling over onto the pavement. Two Alameda County police cruisers pulled up.

"Officer, we got in an accident and these men are assaulting me! Thank God y'all were right there!" Unser shouted.

Jorge knew they were in trouble. Due to the fact that he first attacked Unser, that was a case of assault and it gave these cops reason to search their bikes, and also question Deanna. With a shock, Jorge realized that this had been no accident at all, and that this pickup-driving gringo had purposely taken out the lead biker in such a way to not have to deal with him later.

Unser punched Jorge in the face, drawing some blood from a cut lip, while Jorge elbowed Unser back in the stomach, but instead of finishing him off with more blows, Jorge took the pistol from his holster and fired it in the direction of the police cars, bullets impacting on their windshields. Jorge then took off running toward Deanna, trying to get her over the fence. Several of the cops were now on the highway as panic ensued behind them. There was a six-car pileup as vehicles suddenly stopped to avoid the gunfire.

The two Mayans in the rear bikes knew they were in a terrible situation with the cops on one side and Unser on the other, though Unser was more focused on getting to Deanna. He fired several shots at the Mayans with his Glock but missed. The Alameda cops had taken cover behind their vehicles as the Mayans now unloaded with their AK-47s. Two deafening shotgun blasts were heard as the cops also took out the heavier weapons.

There were now four police officers facing off against the two bikers, but despite the shotguns, they were no match for the Soviet military weapons. One of the officers tried to advance, but a Mayan killed him with an automatic round to the chest. One of the other officers now took cover in the median, which was lower than the two roadways while the other two continued to exchange fire with the Mayans from behind the other cruiser. Even though the cops couldn't get in a good firing position, they discharged their guns in the Mayans' direction just to keep the gangsters distracted and hold them off.

"We have an officer down, request backup immediately!" one of the other cops radioed. "Mile marker 4 on the Shafter Freeway, just west of Exit 5! Repeat officer down! We have three suspects armed with military grade weapons!"

"Muerte tu mierda!" a Mayan screamed as he loaded a new magazine into his Kalashnikov.

At this time, Jorge also squeezed off some more shots in Unser's direction, forcing Unser to take cover behind his truck door. Several bullets whizzed over his head while others lodged themselves in the metal door. Keeping his head covered by the truck, Unser held his pistol through the open window and sent three more bullets in Jorge's direction, but Jorge was now crouched in the grass reloading. Unser cursed to himself as he realized the open space between him and the shoulder was too large for him to make it to Deanna before the Mayan gangster reloaded and there was nothing else that provided any kind of cover from Jorge's return fire.

He saw Jorge pick Deanna up and toss her over the fence, and knew he had to delay them. Deanna, the primary target wasn't mobile anymore, and he would be able to get her as long as he and the cops neutralized all the other threats. Unser fired four more bullets with his Glock before Jorge could raise his gun again. Three of them missed, either kicking up pieces of dirt and grass from the edge of the shoulder or clanging off the metal fence. The forth grazed Jorge's arm, causing him to yell out in pain, but did nothing to incapacitate him.

The Mayans firing from the middle of the highway managed to hit another officer, injuring him in the leg, and Unser knew he also needed to protect his friends as well. Unser turned his attention to the Mayan gunmen armed with the AKs and fired several bullets that whizzed by his head. Despite missing, this distracton allowed the cop in the median to fire a shotgun blast that completely blew apart one of the Mayans' feet. Unser then fired two deadly shots into his chest as the Mayan collapsed. The Mayan's partner continued firing with the AK-47, now unleashing a volley of automatic gunfire into the median but missing the officer there. An officer fired another shotgun blast from behind his cruiser that tore right through the Mayan's chest, sending a giant puff of red into the air. The other cops who had taken positions behind their vehicles also came forward, firing ten additional bullets into the Mayan.

Unser glanced to his left and saw that Jorge had already made it to the other side of the fence and immediately went in pursuit just as more police cars and ambulances were pulling up to the scene of the highway bloodbath.

"Deanna, c'mon! Fuck!" Jorge shouted as he saw Unser coming. Jorge only had 12 bullets left in his gun and their AKs were now lying on the blacktop next to his dead friends. He took one more look at Deanna and decided she wasn't worth it. To hell with getting her back. He wasn't about to be killed or arrested over it. Jorge fired two shots in Unser's direction to slow him down, then rolled along the grass as Unser fired back.

"Son of a bitch!" Unser cursed to himself as the climbed over the fence, firing his gun as he ran down the residential street. Bullets impacted all around him, though Jorge was firing erratically now.

"Fuck you, gringo!" Jorge screamed again as he reloaded. Unser took cover behind a tree as more bullets flew by. He then fired three more shots in Jorge's direction, but the Mexican was much faster and had gained some distance in his escape.

Jorge reached the next residential cross street and stood in the middle of the road, brandishing his pistol at the first car that approached, an Oldsmobile F-85. "Get the fuck out of the car now! Do you fucking hear me?" he screamed.

"Okay! Okay!" screamed the man driving it as opened the door and put his hands in the air.

"Away from the car! Ahora! Keep your fucking hands up!" Jorge shouted, waving his firearm in the air.

The carjacked couple moved onto the sidewalk and Jorge approached the driver's door, several residents ceasing their yard work and running back into their homes. Jorge fired a bullet straight into the man's heart. His wife saw her husband fall and began screaming, then tried to make a run for it across a front lawn. Four seconds later, Jorge killed her with three shots in the back before getting into the Oldsmobile and speeding off.

STATE HIGHWAY 24, SEVERAL MINUTES LATER

Twenty minutes later, the authorities had completely closed down the Route 24 freeway in both directions for the investigation, leading to some of the worst traffic nightmares in recent Bay Area memory as the commuter traffic was diverted onto the secondary roads. The highway was clear except for the dead bodies of the bikers and police officers and the wrecked vehicles as Unser climbed back over the fence.

"You find what you need?" he asked his Alameda PD contact.

The cop nodded. "Given that this was a crime scene, we searched all of the vehicles and our dogs detected a large amount of explosives residue on all of these bikes, and especially on her body." He pointed to Deanna, who was being loaded into an ambulance.

"She will make it, right?"

"I'm pretty sure she will. Hopefully they'll be able to use what we have to search her house, expand their investigation into the Weatherman, and ultimately give us the evidence we need to go after Walt Rogers himself, enough to force the university to cooperate with us despite his standing there. I just hope all this has been worth it."

"Same here. Trust me."

WAHEWA INDIAN RESERVATION, 20 MILES SOUTHWEST OF CHARMING

Instead of heading back to Teller's Automotive, the Sons convoy took the Route 91 bypass for a few miles then took an isolated rural highway southeast to the Wahewa Indian Reservation, which was located 25 miles from Charming city limits. The road conditions deteriorated for the last five miles even before they reached the guard station and fence marking the reservation's borders.

Keith McGee eased the van to a stop at the guard station which he could tell was not heavily trafficked. Although some members of the Wahewa tribe worked in Charming, most residents of the reservation rarely went to town except on shopping trips and there were was little of tourist value or recreational opportunities on the reservation that couldn't be found in state parks with better amenities.

Keith rolled down the window and spoke hurriedly to the female tribal officer stationed there. "We need to get to the clinic. We have two men with gunshot wounds. We can explain later."

"Explain now," the officer said with an almost hostile glare. "Who are you? Our clinic is for tribal members only. You came all the way out here when St. Thomas Hospital has a fully equipped ER." There was no hiding how suspicious there arrival here was.

"I guess this is where I show you my license and all?" Keith said. He turned to JT and Piney. "Even the fucking Brits have a better sense of humor at the border." His only experience at an international border was when he went from the Northern Ireland portion of the UK into the Republic of Ireland to do business with IRA faction members hiding in Dublin. There, he had both British and Irish border agents on his payroll. Guess the reservation's like a bloody different country? Well makes sense we're here.

The tribal cop looked at his temporary California license. "Look, miss, I honestly just moved here from New York, by way of Belfast of…."

"We are not expecting a visit from you," the cop said. "What business…"

"You must be new here!" Lenny called out from the back, still groggy from the alcohol and the pain of his wounds. "Where's Officer Tony? He's usually here, he knows exactly who I am."

The cop went back into the station and a slightly older male tribal officer came back with her. He quickly looked in the van and greeted Wally and Thomas.

"This here's Officer Tony. Tony, these are my brothers from the club," Thomas said.

Officer Tony patted his new female partner on the shoulder and motioned for her to open the gate. "Sorry about the confusion, yeah Janet here really did just start this week." He turned to her. "Wally Glazer. Him, Lenny and Thomas back there in that other cars have become true friends of our tribe since you were away in Colorado. Chief Raging Bull himself is involved in an important business partnership with them that will benefit our people."

"Mutually benefit," Lenny said with a grin despite his pain. "We definitely need a place to lay low for a while, where we're not bothered. And these guys, they're my brothers from the new club. If you trust me and Thomas, you can trust all of them. I'll vouch for each and every one of them. Just get us to the clinic before we pass back out."

Lenny gave Keith directions as they drove deeper into the reservation. The road climbed up several hundred feet in elevation and they saw a large field of newly planted cannabis grown on one of the hillsides. Lenny and Thomas could see JT staring intently in shock at the scene. This crop alone consisted of at least four acres. It was like seeing a piece of South America right in their backyard that they never knew was here. Of course there was illegal marijuana growing operations all over the nation, but rarely anything on this scale. And that was because local and state authorities had no jurisdiction on Indian reservations. Only the federal government did in the form of the Bureau of Indian Affairs, and the BIA agents were given generous enough bribes to convince this was all for cultural use only.

"I know it's supposed to be part of the Native American culture and all, but it's not like they're doing powwows and other such ceremonies every single day," JT commented as they rounded a bend and came up on a slightly smaller marijuana field.

"That, my friends, is the business relationship we have with the Wahewa," Thomas said from the back of the van. "Helping guys relax in Charming. It's only weed, not the real dangerous shit the Mexicans are bringing over the border."

"And you're saying the tribe's supplying all the stuff that got you locked up in Stockton?"

"Of course! Chief Raging Bull's personally in charge of the entire operation. His family's run the tribe since the day the white man first showed up in these parts. They know how to play the game, make the most out of their situation. If there's anything us and the Wahewa have in common, it's that we can take care of our own and we don't want the law messing with us. It's all about trust, because they know we won't screw them over the way the government has for centuries. We've always delivered on our promises, and they know our loyalty can be counted on."

JT now realized this was why Lenny had been in prison when they first met. Lenny could had just had a slap on the wrist, but he refused to cut a deal and snitch on the Wahewa. The DEA, as a federal agency, did have jurisdiction on the reservation and they couldn't risk losing their primary suppliers, plus the fact that Raging Bull allowed them to use the reservation as a sanctuary in case they ran afoul of the law in Charming.

Despite just being a major shootout with the Weather Underground and the Mayans, JT was still shocked and troubled by what he had seen and heard. He was beginning to wonder if he had made a deal with the devil, entering this world when he formed the club. Lenny, Thomas, and Keith had participated in their mission against the Weathermen in an effort to protect their town, yes, but he was beginning to wonder if they also had ulterior motives for forming the club. Yes, he was glad for the sanctuary that their connections had provided for the moment, but the future seemed more and more of a mystery every day.

When he formed this partnership with the other bikers, he was so fixated on the immediate mission that he didn't fully consider the baggage each of the other men had brought to the table with them, and that this too would become part of the club. Yes, he was the President of the Sons of Anarchy, but JT was already realizing that he may not be as in control as he had first thought.