Brothers in Arms

Disclaimer:I do not own NCIS:LA, if I did, we would see proof of Deeks' surfing abilities.
A/N: Thanks again to those who dropped reviews off at the end of the last chapter!

Day 8

Callen reviewed his past four days as he drove into work. His circuitous route was giving him a lot of time to think as he made extra certain he had no tails.

His first step of the weekend was to sit down and hammer out his alias; Deeks had his figured out, but Callen hadn't had a chance to dedicate the time necessary to crafting a long-term cover.

He dug through his bag and found the legal-sized pad of paper he was looking for. He pulled it out and set it on the empty table in front of him at a perfect angle for writing. He picked up his pen and poised his hand to write. The hand hovered over the pad for a moment and then set down on the paper.

And he wrote. Multiple pages were filled and then ripped off. He wrote past a hand cramp and a neck cramp. He wrote until he had nothing left to write. The pages were scattered across the table. The handwriting started neat and clear and ended as a sideways scrawl that somewhat followed the lines of the paper. When he first got the pad, he had carefully numbered every page because at a time like this, he tended to forget that part and the first few times he had done this, too much time was spent trying to reorganize them.

He sat back and stared at the mountain of pages. He stuck the pen behind his ear and began to sort them, first to last. Once the pages were in a neat pile, he began to read, taking notes on the pad when he felt necessary. He then went through the notes and original pages writing out the legend in full. In the end, he was left with three pages of phrases, sentences, and paragraphs that summed up Mikhail.

He read through those three pages multiple times, as well as the whole thing one more time and then lit the gas stove. He burned each page in the sink until there was nothing left but black ash, which he then scooped up and flushed down the toilet. He scrubbed the sink to remove any trace of his activities and scoured the kitchen twice for any page that might have gotten away, but none had.

He was ready to call Diego.

His second step was to call Diego. This hadn't happened until Monday afternoon. An eager seller was someone to be wary of; was his product actually as good as he claimed, or was he just trying to get rid of it? A slow-to-call seller was also worrisome, maybe he was juggling many clients and there was a potential for subpar stock. The butter zone was more than three days and less than a week. He decided to err on the side of early. His objective was to confirm that Diego was interested in the product, but not to do a sale, yet. The dance had to begin slowly.

He hit the correct contact number and watched as the phone began to dial. Diego wouldn't pick up on the first few rings. An eager buyer telegraphs his willingness to overpay. He wouldn't let it ring too long. A slow buyer stations himself as a problem client which lessens his bargaining power. Six, going on seven rings, Diego picked up. Right in the butter zone.

"Hola, Dick."

"Hello Diego."

"How is your brother? Or is that a, eh, sore subject?"

"He's fine. I'm sure your men noticed him this weekend."

A beat of silence. "It appears he bounces back quickly."

"He is not weak. You were sorely mistaken to underestimate him."

"I was."

"And it would be just as hazardous to you to act like that again."

"Trust me, I no longer underestimate him…or you. I believe together tu y tu hermano are a force, not unlike myself."

Diego had no idea what he was up against, then again, Deeks and himself didn't have the full picture yet either. More reason to put off setting up the meeting until later.

"I understand that you are interested in what I sometimes sell. At least, that's what I've gathered from the mess you created."

Diego huffed. "I am. What kind of…"

Callen cut him off. "Not over the phone, these kinds of business talks must be done in person."

"I agree. There is a place that I frequent. Your brother knows it. It is where he gave a demonstration about a man named William and an apple on someone's head."

"Fine. Wednesday night." Silence filled the line so he added, "miércoles."

"Bueno. Eight o'clock."

"Eight o'clock it is."

Callen pulled himself back to the present and completed the final turns that brought him to the office, if you could call an old reclaimed building that was turned into a super-secret hideout an office. The remainder of his days had been spent reviewing the case, keeping up-to-date on the other open cases, and looking in on new hobbies. Sam was worried he had nothing to fill his time when he wasn't working so he was test-running ideas that interested him. He'd prove Sam wrong. Then again, Sam probably was hoping to be proven wrong. He'd have to figure out a way to turn this into his win, not Sam's.

He drove into the far end of the lot where he knew the car couldn't be spotted from the road. He waited until the gate had closed and he walked across to the door. He and Deeks knew they were going to have to have a face-to-face meeting before the talks with Diego started. Coming back to headquarters wasn't the most favourable spot, but they wouldn't have to watch their own backs and it had resources. They both agreed that they wanted to cut ties with this place in order to have a full undercover operation, but it seemed Hetty wasn't going to let them go deep.

Now who had trust issues?

The door swung in on silent hinges and he pushed it closed behind him, hearing the click of the latch as it caught. He stood still and said "so you beat me here."

Deeks emerged from the shadows formed by the hallway columns and into the light streaming in from the window. "These things happen."

"No Jag?"

"Left it at the office. A CD of office noises on repeat and shuffle should convince nosy people that I'm still there."

Callen jerked his head at door to Deeks' left. "Let's get started."

Deeks looked at the door, "isn't that a closet?"

"No, it's a conference room."

"Since when was that a conference room? Is it a conference room the size of a closet?"

"No. Open the door."

Deeks did as he was told. He felt around for a light switch and when the light came on he looked around. "Oh, hey, this is a conference room."

Callen rolled his eyes. "Why did you think this was a closet?"

"Various reasons, proximity to the door suggests a wrap room, fact that I've never seen this door open, there's no windows." Then he grinned, dug into his bag and pulled out a file folder. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

Callen tapped his head, "mine's up here."

Deeks pouted. "And I spent all that valuable time writing things down."

Callen grinned, "Let's see what you got." They arranged themselves at the table, shifting the chairs into a good position, and wiggling down into their cushions. They were setting up for a long stay. "I do have a question that's been bothering me for almost a week now."

"Well we can't have that. What's up?"

"Diego said he'd call me by the name I was listed under in the phone. Why Dick? There were hundreds of names in there that would lead back to me."

Deeks eyes clouded over and the smirk fell from his face, but for only a fraction of a second and then the grin came back and his eyes brightened. But Callen felt these were different, a little forced. Apparently he hit a sore point.

Yet Deeks answered. "I noticed in the phone that I had a Tom, a Dick, and a Harry. I gambled that since Diego and his goons are Latino, they probably haven't heard of that combination. I started by giving up Tom, but they didn't believe that one. I moved on to Dick and they took that one. I figured they would give me a three name buffer between no name and Mike."

Callen smiled to himself. He'd used the same move although he preferred to use Simon, Alvin, and Theodore. "Good move. Have you decided upon our super-secret way to smuggle arms?"

Deeks gave one of his dazzling smiles and leaned forward on the table, "Yes, but it's not secret at all."

"We need to have a unique way, a reason for them to come to us." Callen was puzzled, but since he had learned to give Deeks more credit than he had before, he waited.

"I'm certain no one else knows about this particular loophole. The method is anti-secret. It's as un-covert you can get, it's overt. Want to hear it?"

"Not yet. I think that the best way to play this is as business partners: I run one half, you run the other. More of a 'let not the left hand know what the right hand does' kind of idea."

"I can work with that. Did you set up a meeting?"

Callen leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Did you perform a William Tell impression?"

A corner of Deeks mouthed slid up, "Maybe. You going to tell on me?"

Callen's brow furrowed, "where'd you get the apple?"

They stared at each other, Deeks attempting to squash his smirk while Callen's eyes narrowed. Comprehension dawned on him: "not an apple, an Apple. What did you shoot it off with?"

Deeks dropped his head in one of his hands "A dart." He laughed. "I was surprised; I never would have believed that it would hold an iPhone to the wall. What about it?"

"Diego wants to meet there tonight."

"I suggest you break out your cowboy boots...you'll blend better."

Callen pushed through the doors of The Bullring and scanned the room. He had snorted at Deeks when he suggested the boots and had outright nixed the matching hat. He'd finally agreed to an understated plaid shirt and jeans.

It appeared the...establishment...he was standing in was trying (hard) to be an upper-class country bar. The new wood flooring had been artfully distressed, the requisite peanuts lined the bar but were pre-shelled, and a bull sat in the centre, but was more in line with the one that resided on Wall Street than one that gave you a ride for a dollar. The comforts that the bar-hopping crowd refused to go without where present; there were private cubbies separated by what was most likely fake cowhides so to not offend the animal lovers, servers carried trays of top shelf alcohol, and the DJ was spinning tunes. It seemed that no matter the theme, the music was always the same: the flavour of the month.

He scanned the roped off area until he found the correct nationality standing guard outside one of the private rooms. He squeezed his way past the women in short skirts and men in open shirts until he found the foot of the staircase. He climbed it and threaded his way past hired muscle until he was chest-to-eye with a short, squat man that looked like he would rather be in the jungle foothills, not in a reconfigured warehouse hosting a dance party.

"Blanco and I have some business." He kept his eyes away from the occupied chairs as a sign of respect to the guard and the group. Too many people would barge past the guard and assume that he was some patsy that was shoved out front. That is how one got a knife in the side. The front guards were there for a reason.

This one turned his head, made eye contact, and then turned back. He patted Callen down in a subtle way, there was no need to proclaim that their business was of the, sensitive, manner. He jerked his head when he found no weapons and Callen stepped past him and through the threshold. The curtain swung closed behind him and did a decent job of blocking the sound as well. The area had already been cleared of extra people and Callen found himself looking at Diego and what the file stated was his top lieutenant.

Diego motioned for him to take a seat. "I found your brother was more open to talking when it was more...intimate. I assume you are the same." Callen sat and nodded. "Speaking of, where is he?"

Callen steepled his fingers and sunk down into his chair. The knives pressed into the small of his back. Guns were loud and reliably inaccurate in situations such as these whereas knives were silent and, when deployed properly, deadly. Plus, they were easier to conceal and harder to detect in a quick pat-down. "We take a divide-and-conquer approach to business. I manage the inventory and sales, he has the logistics of attaining and delivering. If we settle on a price, he'll join us." Callen wanted them to be on edge, just because they were in the same room didn't mean the deal was going to be done. Not too eager, not too lax.

Diego nodded and waved at his lieutenant. "Ricardo, the list." It appeared from inside his jacket, the process giving Callen a peripheral glimpse at the handgun tucked under his arm. The butt didn't tell him much, but the weight signalled that it would be a slower draw than him and his knives. It also told him that he was left-handed.

"I've heard that left-handed people are believed to be from the devil."

The list paused mid-air and Ricardo and Diego traded looks. A smile cracked Ricardo's face and Diego laughed. "Maybe we should rename ourselves los tres demonios, but it does not come off the tongue as smoothly. That thinking lives with the old and in the backwoods. Yet, Ricardo may have resurrected it." They both began to laugh.

Callen laughed with them, but filed away the information. There was a hitman believed to be working his way through the cartels who took the left hand of his kills. In English he was known as 'Lefty' and in Spanish they just tried to avoid him. Callen may have just found him. Once they settled down, the list made its way across the table and into his hands. Callen scanned the list and did some mental math. The firepower they were looking for signalled that they were looking to outfit a small army. This meant one of two things: they were replacing their force's guns with new ones, or they were planning on doubling their manpower. He didn't see them throwing away perfectly good guns so they were looking to significantly increase their size. Not good.

He quoted a price.

Diego returned with a much lower number.

Callen scrunched his nose and came down, just a little.

Diego waved his hand in a Latin gesture and came up, just a little.

Callen huffed a sigh and came down a bit above the halfway point between the original numbers.

Diego spat out some Spanish, which Callen assumed to be curse words, and spoke the magic number.

Callen grimaced, Diego sighed, and Ricardo played with his glass. Finally the two sides shrugged and shook hands. The price was what both sides expected. It was fair market value for the black market. Callen pulled out his phone and sent a text to Deeks as his services were now needed while Diego made arrangements for some refreshments to be brought up.

They were watching the waitress place their orders down on the table when a scuffle could be heard happening outside the curtain. The guard and Deeks burst through the curtain tangled up in each other. The guard was obviously trying to get Deeks out and Deeks was trying to make his way in. The guard, mindful of making a scene was not putting up his full effort. The waitress bee lined it out towards safety leaving the five in a tense tableau.

The guard let loose a stream in his native tongue while Deeks cackled.

Diego gave the guard a nod towards the outside and he left. He then tuned to face Deeks, "Jake, I believed you had better manners."

Deeks pulled a pistol out from under his arm and smacked it on the table. He dropped into the chair beside Callen and broke out a wolf-like grin. "This saves me taking one off your stooges." The unsaid 'you know I can, I did it once' hung heavy in the air. Callen decided to follow his suit and slipped the knife from his left sleeve into his palm, flipped it, and then buried the blade a half inch deep into the table. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Deeks' jaw clench as he stared across the table. It was a subtle tell, but a tell nonetheless.

They all sat and stared at the weapons on the table and each tried to guess how many more there were in the room. Eyes travelled the decor, the bulges in the suits and calculations were made. Diego reached beside his chair and everyone tensed. His hand came up...

"Tequila?"

"Let's finish business first." Ricardo was looking a bit uncomfortable with his guard being bested by both their visitors and wanted to get the deal done. They could all see the tactical situation was deteriorating.

Deeks flopped back and cocked an eyebrow at Callen. He handed over the list and Deeks scanned it. When he had handed it back and nodded, Callen rolled it up and stuck it in the Mason jar which was holding a candle. The four watched as the paper caught fire and then burned to ash. When it was gone, they turned to Deeks.

He sat up, "you'll get three shipments. Each will come with their own instructions which will be mailed separately a week before the shipment is due to arrive in the port of your choosing. All I need is the name of that port and a reliable address."

"Mail instructions? A port? We do not lounge on the beach, we are people of the jungle."

Deeks smirked, "I'm sure with your network you can get a container off of a boat and on a truck. And yes, mail. Emails can be hacked with no notice but letters cannot be opened without a reason. I'll be sure to decorate it with hearts and rainbows and unicorns." He nodded at Callen and they stood.

Diego waved at them "wait, have a drink."

Callen shook his head. "We're business associates. Not friends. We'll meet again to finalize the details." They left and headed for the door.

Once outside, Deeks looked at Callen and said "well. That was fun."

Callen waved for the valet, "it did what needed to get done. Let's meet up tomorrow and figure out how to proceed."

A/N: Updates may go on hiatus for a week or two since I've got some plot to put in order before I continue. I know, I know, patience is boring, but it'll be better this way.