A/N:- Props to Malia Amane for the wonderful beta reading, for the small suggestions that make me no so suck at write thing.
Disclaimer:- Do I even need to do these any more? I mean, I did a Haiku on the last chapter and no one commented on it. I'm pretty sure you don't actually read this part, so I could just write whatever the damn hell I please and you'd be none the wiser. Also, I don't own any of these characters.
At this time of year, the LA River culvert was bone dry. Deeks made his way down the sloped concrete sides, towards the flat surface below. A quick flash of their badges had got them passed the police cordon up top, though they hadn't really needed it; the cop there had recognised Deeks and was already waving them through as they'd approached. The other uniformed officer hadn't, which was why Kensi had needed to pull out her NCIS credentials.
As NCIS's LAPD liaison, it was technically Deeks's job to ensure that the federal agency were updated on cases that concerned them, ensure a smooth transition, and supply any support that LAPD could offer. Heck, he shouldn't technically work out of the Spanish-style mission. He was just supposed to be the face that NCIS spoke to. Sometimes it amazed him what his life had become since Hetty had come calling, all those years ago. It didn't take anyone very long to realise that the manipulative chess master had stolen him from the police department, and that he was essentially now just another one of her agents.
Not that he'd minded; it meant he got to work with Kensi every day, got to tease her mercilessly, watch how his flirtations left her stuttering and unsure how to react. He especially didn't mind when their banter had developed, almost too slowly to notice, into true friendship, and from there to deep love. But he still got to be a cop, through it all. He might be an agent in all but truth, but he liked his badge, liked his connection to the department. It made him feel a pride he didn't think the rest of the team fully understood. Not that they needed to; he did, and that was all that mattered.
Once they were at the bottom, the partners made their way towards the coroner's van. Deeks nodded at a couple of detectives, before they reached the two black body bags. A gaggle of Crime Scene Analysts were snapping pictures and taking detailed notes. Deeks made a mental note to use his role as Liaison properly later, to acquire copies of their reports for NCIS.
"Okay, Detective," said Kensi, her voice only a little bit mocking. "Why don't you show me how it's done?"
He tossed her a wide grin. "Okay, Pookie. But you might wanna write this down. Be prepared to be amazed."
"We'll see."
Deeks gestured to a nearby officer, who pulled back the bags, revealing the two corpses. He hunkered down on his haunches, aware that his partner was hovering over his shoulder. He smirked a little, before giving his full attention to the bodies before him.
Both had changed out of their uniforms, into civilian attire, but there was no mistaking the haircut and overall military aura that, even dead, they radiated. Deeks dug into his back pocket, pulling out his cell. After swiping through a couple of images, he found what he'd been looking for. "Petty Officers Schmidt and Jenkins," he said. "Yeah, they're definitely from Kilo squad."
"That all you got?" asked Kensi. He could hear the playfulness in her voice, but something about it made the hackles on the back of his neck rise.
Deeks rose, examining the scene before him further. "Both of them shot in the back of the head," he said, gesturing. "From the entrance holes, probably a small calibre weapon. The bullet rattled around in their skulls, turning their brains to jelly. Not a pretty way to go." His eyes travelled up and down again. He stepped around the body of one of them, Jenkins, to get a better look. "And here, bruising on the wrists. If I had to make an educated guess, cause, uh, that's what it'd be, I'd say they had their hands bound pre-mortem. These men were executed."
"Wow," said Kensi, glancing around to make sure there were no uniforms nearby. "That was actually really hot."
Deeks arched an eyebrow at that. "You know," he said, "you scare me a little, sometimes."
She gave him a wide, toothy grin. "Anything else?"
"Yeah," replied, returning the grin. Their eyes were locked together. He could see the twinkle in her mismatched orbs. "They were shot somewhere else, and their bodies dumped here."
She cocked an eyebrow at him. "How do you figure?"
"There's no blood on the ground," he replied. "Coroner's office will back me up on this."
"I really am impressed," she breathed, voice awed.
"Hey, I'm not just another pretty face."
"I never thought that," she replied.
Deeks sighed. "You're gonna say that you never even thought I was a pretty face, aren't you?"
Kensi grinned again. "It's a good start, Deeks," she said. "Now let's see how far NCIS can take it." She flipped on her phone, dialling Ops. A second later, Eric answered.
"N'yello," he said.
"Eric, I need you to look through all the CCTV footage in this area over the last, say 12 hours?"
"What am I looking for?"
"Someone dumped the bodies here," she replied. "If we can find what vehicle they used, maybe we can track it to a location."
"On it," he replied, before hanging up.
Kensi returned her attention to Deeks, smiling smugly.
"Alright," he said, scratching at his stubble. "It still doesn't answer any questions, though. Just raises more."
"Yeah," she said. "Why were they shot? Did they want to come clean, and were killed to silence them?"
Kensi nodded. "Or did the others turn on them for a larger cut?"
Sam and Callen sat in silence around the main table of the boat shed, watching the large screen monitors. Displayed before them, Comiskey and his wife were in Interrogation One, muttering between them. It wasn't usually a good idea to put suspects together, Callen knew. But they needed something from the marine, and maybe, just maybe, seeing how distraught the events made his wife would be enough for him to give up his squad mates. So far, it hadn't been successful, but they'd be able to trawl through their hushed conversation later, to see if anything was let slip.
He took a sip of his coffee, strong and black, the aroma and tang seeping into his body and washing away the fatigue that was starting to creep in. It had been a long day, given that they'd been relaxing on a well deserved day off when the case broke, and now the sun was setting outside. It didn't help that they'd spent most of the time since then chasing smoke – smoke that had slipped through their fingers every time they made a grab for it.
In his pocket, his cell phone began to buzz. He checked the display, and nodded to Sam when he recognised the number. Arkady was calling.
"What have you got?" he asked, putting the phone on speaker.
"Is that how you answer phone in this country?" Arkady replied, voice echoing. "You Americans have no manners."
"We can discuss how my parents didn't get a chance to raise me later," Callen said. "We're on a schedule."
"What you look for… there are not many who deal," admitted Arkady. "Some, but not many."
"And you spoke to them?" pressed Callen.
"Yes." There was a pause. "They are in market, but none have any deal on the table."
Callen felt his disappointment settle into his stomach. "And you trust them on that?"
"I trust no one," he replied. "But I do not believe they would lie to me."
Callen nodded, even though he knew Arkady couldn't see him. "Okay," he said a moment later. "Give me their names; I want to run them down from this end."
There was a long pause from the other end of the line. "This, you know I cannot do," Arkady said, eventually. "Is bad for business, you understand?"
"I need those names, Arkady," said Callen, putting force into his voice.
There was a sigh. "Fine. But you owe me, Agent Callen."
Callen grabbed a pen, scribbling down the list of four names, ignoring the pointedly raised eyebrow of his partner. "Thanks," he said, as he finished.
"Tell your 'partner' my offer still stands."
Callen grinned at Sam, who pulled a wry face. "I will, don't worry," he said, ending the call. "Okay," he said to his partner. "Let's head back to Ops, see if we can cross-reference any of these names with Kilo Squad."
The four agents arrived back at the Spanish-style mission within moments of each other. As they travelled from the parking lot into the open-plan office space, they filled each other in. A quick glance around the bullpen let Callen know that Hetty was at her desk, attention fully on the open laptop before her. As they entered Ops, he noticed that Eric was absent, leaving only the red headed Data Analyst.
"Where's Eric?" he asked.
Nell swivelled her chair away from her monitor, facing the team as they spread out around the flat-bed monitor that dominated the middle of the darkened technical hub. "He's downstairs," she replied. "Trying to salvage anything he can from the laptop Kensi and Deeks brought in."
"You manage to get anything off the cameras where the bodies were dumped?" Kensi asked.
"I did," Nell replied, turning towards the main screen. She tapped briefly on her tablet, and the image before them shifted, revealing grainy black and white footage. Through the quality was poor, Callen could make out a vehicle arriving at the culvert. Nell continued: "About three hours before the bodies were discovered, this black pickup was spotted at the scene." She fast forwarded the footage, the let it play again at normal speed. "Two men exited the car, carrying what looks to be the bodies of the marines. They made two journeys."
"Can you get any closer on their faces, Nell?" asked Callen.
"Sorry, no. The footage isn't the best, and the camera is from across the street, so they're too far away to make out any details."
"Any plates on the pickup?" asked Deeks, leaning forward across the console.
On the screen before them, the camera zoomed in more, to show a blank bumper. Nell shook her head. "No. And I lost the pickup in traffic. But I've got kaleidoscope running, and there's a BOLO out too."
"I've got a buddy who works traffic," said Deeks. "I'll give him a call."
"Good work, Ms. Jones," came a deep female voice, and only years of training enabled Callen to not jump out of his skin. He turned, already knowing that he'd find Hetty behind him. That's not possible, he thought. I didn't even hear the door open.
Suddenly, the doors hissed audibly open, and Eric raced in, his face a mask of concern and shock. "Have you guys seen…?" He stopped, screeching to a halt, when he saw the Operations Manager. "Oh. I thought you were at your desk?"
"And now I am here," Hetty replied. "You have found something, Mr. Beale?"
"Uh, yeah," he replied, and began to type furiously at his own tablet. The monitor changed again, revealing file after file of information. "I was finally able to get into Gunnery Sergeant Quiggin's laptop. There's a lot of information here, all of it hidden behind a secret partition that I almost didn't notice. I mean, that's some deep digging I had to do."
"Why don't you give us the Cliff Notes version," said Deeks.
Eric pushed his thick rimmed glasses back up his nose. "Well, turns out McDonald was right about him empathising with the Afghanis. In fact, unknown to anyone, Quiggin had actually converted to Islam a few years ago."
"So?" asked Sam. "Lots of people convert. They're not all radicals."
"That's just it," continued Eric, and the screen shifted again, to show web forums. "Between tours, Quiggin was visiting some of the more extreme websites on an increasing basis. He soon struck up a friendship with this man." The images changed again, to reveal an Afghani man.
"That's Fahran Bashir," said Callen, dread creeping into his voice. He turned to the others. "One of the new heads of al-Qaeda."
"Right," agreed Eric. "And that's when I found this." A blueprint popped up onto the screen.
"Is that what I think that is?" asked Deeks.
"That's plans for building a bomb," confirmed Kensi. Callen ignored the fact that the two partners had instinctively grabbed each other's hands. Heck, he would have too, had he had someone's to hold.
Eric turned back to the monitor. "As far as I can tell, the bomb is ready; it just needed one last thing. And now they've got it."
Another document appeared; this one looked like an email in Arabic script. "Sam?" said Callen. His partner stepped forward, eyes scanning over the document.
"It's about…" started Sam, before swallowing. "It's from Bashir. Thanking Quiggin for his sacrifice, as well as instructions on how to use the material they'd needed."
"What kind of material, Sam?" asked Callen, already knowing what the answer was going to be. Dreading it.
"That's what Kilo squad brought with them," added Sam. "It wasn't treasure; it was nuclear material."
Despite his correct assumption, Callen's jaw still dropped, and he felt his chest constrict. "A dirty bomb," he breathed, finally.
"It gets worse," said Eric, bringing up another document. "As far as I can make out, whatever they're planning on doing…" he paused, swallowing. "They're going to do it tonight."
Silence descended on Ops, made all the more jarring by the constant hum of the computer systems.
Finally, Hetty turned from the monitor. "Find the bomb, Agent Callen," she said, and Callen was shocked to hear traces of fear in her tone. "Find the bomb, and stop them."
Callen let his eyes flick over his team, one by one. As one, they all looked equally terrified and determined. Okay, he thought. This is what we do. This is what we're good at.
"Let's do this," he said.