Brothers in Arms
Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS:LA, if I did, I wouldn't have to write these.
A/N: You really didn't like that cliff-hanger, eh? I'd apologize, but that thing pretty much wrote itself, I just typed. Thanks to keviana, tessinciucy, Sweet Lu, jmlane1966, jaguar24, beverlie4055, shestarsky, CM-x-SN-x-HP-x-roxmysox, ncisloverinnc, and Somnuim1 for stopping long enough to drop a note.
So, without further ado, as promised, Day 11...
Why are you still reading this? Skip ahead!
No! Don't skip ahead. There's important information here!
There isn't really, I'm just being a tease.
Carry on.
And I'll stop carrying on.
I promise.
Enjoy.
Day 11
Deeks reached for his water bottle as the plane hit some turbulence. Callen and he had been hopping their way through Central and South America down to Colombia. The goal was to create a route that would be next to impossible to follow, even for Eric to decipher. The consequence, however, was that they had spent the better part of two days either in a plane or standing in a line. He was parched by the dry air pumped through the planes and most of the airlines were not in the giving mood. They had been careful to pick up food and water in countries that were more trustworthy.
Callen looked up from his notebook, "I think the pit stop in Cuba will throw them off."
"I think the fact that we haven't used a passport since we left Costa Rica will be a bit of a brick wall." The money that Diego had dead-dropped to ensure his final demand was met had aided their travel.
"How's that baggage treating you?"
Deeks shifted in his seat, feeling the bag holding the firing pins rub against the small of his back. "The tape's itching a bit."
"We'll hop to Aruba on the way back; they have some Aloe gel that can solve anything."
"I bet their beach could solve it too."
Callen cocked his head to the side, "Maybe..."
Deeks smiled, "Depending on how mad Hetty is, we may have to take a vacation. Why not spend our detention well?"
A smirk found its way onto Callen's face, "Detention, I like it. She's probably pacing right now, sharpening her knives."
"As long as she doesn't point that letter opener at me again." They laughed at that; they were both making light of the grief they were no doubt causing.
But this was more important.
Three weeks ago...
Deeks slammed his door and Callen started up the engine. Deeks looked over at Callen and raised his eyebrows. Callen tapped his ear and turned on the radio. They travelled away from the meet with Diego and down the roads to Deeks' office. They climbed the stairs to the roof and Callen popped the lock on the door. They settled their backs against the low wall around the roof and said what was on their minds.
"Do you think Hetty caught what the note said?" Deeks deferred to Callen's more extensive experience with their boss.
"Not unless Eric finally got those super cameras he's been drooling over, which I'm sure hasn't happened."
"What are we going to do about it?"
"What do you think?" Callen was interested to see what Deeks thought, especially considering, unlike his alias, he had never travelled much of the world.
"I think if we say no, we're going to have a hard battle convincing him, and everyone else, that we're not involved when the raid happens."
"There's the possibility that we, well, you, get taken down too, especially if the timing happens the way it should."
Deeks looked down at his hands. "I know" he said in a small voice. "She'll never allow it and I'll be on my own."
Callen nudged him with his elbow, "Hey, we're partners on this, if you go down, I'm going down too."
Deeks squinted into the sun, "Wouldn't she figure out where we're going?"
"Not necessarily," Callen twisted his upper body to face Deeks, "she's planning on us handing all the information over to the DEA and then washing her hands of it. That way our agency is not involved. We'll be giving them a timeline of when each of the packages are supposed to arrive. The suggestion we'll add, and Hetty will agree, is that they attack during the most gun-unrelated one, which will be firing pins."
"So we tell him that I'll personally accompany that one."
"Makes sense, why would you travel down with a container? It's more believable for you to show up as a guest, which happens to be carrying a small gift."
Deeks sucked in a breath and stared into the distance. "Let's do it."
Callen nodded and clapped him on his shoulder. "I agree."
Callen nudged Deeks, "Once we get out of this turbulence you should turn on the tracker."
"How am I supposed to re-tape it by myself?"
"Get limber."
Deeks rolled his eyes, figuring that was enough to convey his opinion of Callen's suggestion. The seat belt light switched off and he waited a few minutes before heading up to the bathroom.
They had circled back to Costa Rica and were taking a major airline down to Bogotá. They had a charter that would drop them in a town near to the base. From there Deeks would hook up with the transportation Diego had arranged to bring him to the base. Callen would follow, finding his own way. Neither way was opportune and separating wasn't their first choice, but it had to be done. Diego would know that Callen came in on the same plane, but it would be expected that the 'brothers' would be watching each other's backs in such a dangerous situation.
Through some interesting positions and some pulled muscles Deeks did manage to get the package un-taped, the tracker engaged, and the whole thing re-taped to his back. He moved down the aisle, finding his seat back and falling into it. They had lucked out, getting two seats side-by-side with the third seat empty.
"You sure turning the tracker on now won't draw any suspicion?"
Callen shook his head, "Half the time these things cut in and out constantly. They'll just think it's a glitch and celebrate when it works all the way to the compound."
"Okay. Here's hoping this whole plan works...the way we want it to."
The two yet-to-be-named Things were waiting for him; they were leaning up against a truck that had seen better days, but Deeks wasn't fooled. The way it was sitting on its shocks told him that there was some heavy duty protection built into the frames. He'd put money on it being bulletproof.
He popped his glasses on as he stepped out of the Cessna and scanned the area. The reflective surface on the glasses hid his eyes but had the unfortunate side effect of blinding him at times. He sauntered over to his ride, sniffed and wrinkled his nose in a way that said he wasn't completely impressed with what was in front of him. Thing 3 stepped forward to pat him down, but Deeks whipped out a blade from where it was tucked beside the firing pins.
"No way. I come armed or not at all. Explain that to el jefe and make sure he understands."
The things exchanged glances and shrugs and Thing 3 backed off.
He kept his face forward but swung his eyes to the side and watched as Callen walked off the runway and into the building. He silently wished him luck as he climbed into the truck.
Callen paused in the doorway to let his eyes adjust to the murky light in the building. The sunlight had to pass through grimy windows and was failing. The fixtures did a passable job of throwing some yellow light, but everyone inside looked like they had a touch of jaundice. He folded his sunglasses and tucked them in the pocket of his shirt. There as a young girl wiping down the counter and Callen guessed that she was his best bet for information.
"Hola, hay una casa de huéspedes?" Is there a rooming house?
She replied with directions and Callen headed out. Following the directions he found the place quickly and repeated his pause-in-the-entrance routine. There he found a woman waiting for him; news travels very quickly in small towns. She probably expected him the minute he stepped off the plane and didn't join Diego's men.
He went through the motions of booking a room and dropping off his suitcase. He locked the door and rumpled the room up a bit. He propped the suitcase up in the corner, opened it up and dug out his backpack. This held the supplies he was going to need. He was happy to find that his room was on the back of the house and his window opened and closed easily. He slung the backpack over his shoulders and hopped out the window. A glance to the left and right confirmed that no one was watching so he quickly crossed to the jungle and disappeared behind the trees. He worked his way through the underbrush until he walked down a little hill. At the bottom of the valley he dug out a compass and a paper containing a heading. He was about to climb the opposite hillside when a voice worked its way out of the foliage.
"Figured I'd meet you."
Callen smiled and shook his head. He worked his way towards the direction of the voice and found himself face to face with a face from his past. "Hi Jorge."
The face cracked a smile. "I see you found your way with no problem."
"We're still alive so far."
"I aim to aid you in keeping it that way."
Callen studied the man in front of him. Jorge went through the CIA Farm with him and they had kept up as much as possible over the passing years. Callen knew that he was stationed in South America, but when he put in a request for contact with the agency, he found that he was not far away from the base Deeks was headed towards. Fate was giving them a bit of a helping hand. "What do you got for me?"
Jorge jerked his head in the direction they should walk. As they started moving he filled Callen in on what he could spare him. "I've got a vehicle and some camping supplies. I figure you'll probably want to find a good spot and sit on top of the base. The DEA team ran their plan by us looking for suggestions," at Callen's questioning look, he explained, "I know the agencies don't tend to get along, but down here sometimes we need the backup. Anyway, I know their attack plan so I have a few spots you can use and stay out of their and Diego's men's way."
They came into a clearing and Callen looked over the supplies Jorge had for him. They took some time to go over the map and the route back to Jorge's hideout. It would be their back-up plan if they had to get out fast. Callen hoped it would be unnecessary, but it was better to be a pessimist and plan for the worst. The two men shook hands and drove off in opposite directions.