Life, Lies and Video Surveillance
By Cortexikid
Chapter 33: Obloquy (Part III)
A/N: Hey guys, thanks so much for your awesomeness :D Here's part III/IV. Hope you enjoy! Oh and if I don't manage to update before then, MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE :D
Disclaimer: Last time I checked, my name wasn't Shane Brennan and I wasn't a dude. And nothing has changed. Guess that means NCIS:LA isn't mine :/
WOTD: OBLOQUY; ob·lo·quy noun. Strong public criticism or verbal abuse
"GET BACK! NOW!"
Deeks stepped out of the shadows, his hands held up in surrender, inching closer to Oliver.
"I'm unarmed," he called, "it's just me Oliver, I'm by myself..."
The ex-Lieutenant stared at him, his dark eyes flashing dangerously.
Slowly, he raised the pistol, aiming it at Deeks' head.
"I said...get back."
Two Hours Earlier...
"Black, one sugar, right?" Kensi Blye asked her former colleague and old friend Nate Getz as he took a seat at her kitchen table.
"Oh you don't have to do that Ken—"
"So you heard I got shot, then?" she interrupted with a small sigh, taking out two cups for their coffee.
"Hetty may have given me a call," he replied vaguely before shooting her a concerned glance, "how are you?"
Kensi avoided his eye, turning back around to pour the coffee.
"I'm good," she replied, ignoring the tense ache radiating from her lower chest/upper abdomen.
"Uh huh," Nate responded, his disbelief coming off him in waves, "you catch the guy?"
The agent stiffened, the fiery eyes of Jessica Clarence staring her down as she raised the gun flashing before her eyes, shocking her. She had hardly thought about it since it happened...
"Girl, not guy," she corrected, spooning a large heap of sugar into one of the cups before clasping them and gently walking over to the table. She could feel her friend's eyes on her as she slowly lowered herself down into the chair.
"And yeah, Deeks got her," she nodded, eyes still lowered.
Nate tilted his head, watching her silently for a moment before taking a sip of his coffee. After a moment, he lowered the cup, curiosity getting the better of him.
"So, where is Deeks? I thought he'd be playing your personal nurse about now," he smirked as Kensi shook her head.
"He's uh...back at work," she murmured, it suddenly hitting her how much Nate had missed. She didn't feel comfortable delving into the events of the last few months where her partner-then-not-partner-then-partner-again was concerned.
"What do you mean...back?"
Damn him! He was always so perceptive.
"He uh...he was on leave for a while but he's back now," she responded as much as she could without giving too much away, "anyway, tell me about Europe, well, as much as you can anyway...what's it like?"
His dark eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly, knowing a brush off when he saw one. But, he decided to let it go as she looked at him expectantly.
"It's...nice. The work I do is rewarding," he said with a smile, "it can get tiring though. I'm surprised I haven't passed out yet actually," he smirked as he took another sip of coffee. Perhaps the four cups of caffeine he had in the last six hours helped?
"Wait, you mean you came straight here? You haven't slept?" she asked, a frown crossing her features.
"Uh..." the psychologist murmured, his eyes widening.
Something clicked in the back of Kensi's mind as she stared at him, her eyes suddenly drinking in his rumpled figure, the dark circles under his eyes.
"What's going on, Nate?"
A gleaming, red, Chevy Malibu pulled up haphazardly outside The Regency Hotel, a tall, flaxen-haired man exiting it quickly and ducking under the police tape, walking with intent towards three men who stood in the adjacent parking lot, apparently arguing with two uniformed officers.
"Really? A Chevy Malibu?" one of the men said to him as he approached, his eyebrows raised as he craned his neck to get a better look at the car.
"What?" Deeks scoffed at Monroe who just shook his head amusedly as Sam and Callen turned to him.
"So, you're back huh?" Callen asked, arms folded as Sam continued to speak heatedly to the two officers in front of them.
"Guess so," Deeks nodded, watching the officers interact with the agent, "what's going on here?"
"What's going on here is that we've a hostage situation that falls under LAPD jurisdiction not NCIS," one of the officers replied, not even looking at Deeks, instead glaring at Callen.
"It fell under our jurisdiction the second we got the distress message from our superior," Callen argued, "the main target is Patrick Hart, a Captain in the United States Navy...we're the Naval Criminal Investigative Service so it's our wheelhouse."
The two officers stared wordlessly at him, unable to dispute him.
"We'll have to get our Lieutenant on the phone," the first officer murmured as the second retrieved his cell phone.
"Tell Bates Deeks says hi," Deeks said pointedly with a nod before catching Monroe's eye.
"Your old boss?" he asked under his breath as two detectives strode towards them, determination in their stride.
"What the hell is goin' on here, Deeks?" snarled the first.
"Mackey," Deeks nodded, recognizing him as one of Harris's old pals.
"Last I heard, Bates fired your ass, what're you doin' here? Civilians get in the way..." the second detective asked, his tone as venomous as the first.
"Rhodes," Deeks nodded again, "to answer in order, we're here to assist in the hostage situation, I wasn't fired I quit and I'm not a civilian, I'm an agent."
A short silence followed those words.
"Huh," Mackey murmured, nudging his partner, "so you went from Detective Dick to Agent Asshole..."
Monroe gaped between them and Deeks as the ex-detective merely smirked in reply.
"Detective Mackey, it's Lieutenant Bates," one of the officers returned, holding out his cell phone for the detective to take.
Callen, Sam, Deeks and Monroe watched on in silence as Mackey's face morphed from smug to crestfallen. With a frustrated twist of his mouth he uttered a "yes, sir," before practically shoving the phone back into the officer's face.
"Looks like we'll be assisting NCIS on this one Rhodes," he addressed his partner, staring Deeks in the eye intently, "they've got lead..." he finished before storming off in the opposite direction.
After a moment, Monroe let out a low whistle.
"Whoa Deeks...if looks could kill—"
"I'd be six feet under," the ex-liaison murmured before turning to Callen, "so, what's the plan?"
A short, gray-haired woman bit her lip, her hands trembling as Oliver Bradley's dark eyes bore into her.
"E-Excuse me?" she asked, trying to keep her composure.
"You heard me, lady," Bradley growled, throwing a brown-paper bag at her. "I want you to bind everybody together, both hands, like a giant peace circle," he smirked, watching intently as she emptied out the bag to find dozens of zip-ties.
"O-Okay," she nodded, approaching a young woman in Navy uniform and taking her right hand, then holding it up against the middle-aged man standing next to her and fastening it to his left hand. Swallowing nervously, she then took the young woman's left hand and held it up to another woman's, entrapping their wrists with the black band. When she was done, she stood back, taking in the sight. There, standing in front of her were three people bound together, staring at her with wide eyes. With a sigh, she went to work in making the line even longer...
Bradley nodded, satisfied that she was doing as he wished. He then turned back to the good ol' Captain who sat bound on a chair in front of him, his wife, daughters and grandsons all huddled together, watching on fearfully as the timer on his chest continued to count down: 03:22:47...46...45...
Meanwhile, the gray-haired woman, Marjorie, took out another zip-tie, trying to ignore the angry mutters that were now radiating from Oliver, stepping close to a tall, bald man with dark eyes and reaching out to clasp his right wrist. It was just when she was binding it to another woman's was she startled by his left hand coming up to rest on hers, patting it gently. Her hazel eyes rose and caught his, they warm and comforting before he let it drop into position to be bound too.
Suddenly, she didn't feel as frightened as she had before. There was just something so reassuring about the man, something which silently said 'don't worry, everything's going to be okay.'
Owen Granger watched as the older woman stepped away from him and went to bind more people together. He had wanted to offer her some comfort, however silent. With cautious eyes, he turned his attention to Bradley, watching as he shouted into Patrick Hart's face, the Captain staring straight ahead, his face perfectly passive as if he could neither see nor hear Bradley's abuse. He didn't know how long the ex-lieutenant would stand for that...
The team needed to get a damn move on before Bradley lost whatever patience he had left...
"So Hetty thinks I need a shrink?" Kensi asked, her tone sharp, her eyes narrowed as she fought the urge to fold her arms.
"No, she—"
"So it's just a coincidence that you show up the day after I get out of hospital?" she cut across Nate who shuffled in his chair, his eyes glued to the table.
"Not a coincidence per se, just...fortunate timing," he muttered before clearing his throat and avoiding Kensi's look of disbelief. "Seriously, I—I've been saving up some vacation time and had every intention of coming back to LA—"
"But Hetty called you yesterday?" she asked, forgetting herself and leaning forward slightly, a sharp pain shooting up her abdomen. With a wince, she leaned back in the chair, resting a hand on her stomach.
Nate's eyes filled with concern for a moment, "yeah, Hetty called me yesterday. Said something about a reunion being in order to...boost morale," he halted, observing her as she shifted in the chair to a more comfortable position before asking lowly, "so, how are you guys? You and Deeks and Callen and Sam and Eric and Nell?"
Kensi smirked, "what are we, The Brady Bunch?"
"If The Brady Bunch were kickass fighting machines, maybe," he grinned, "but seriously, last time we spoke was far too long ago..."
A wave of guilt settled into Kensi's gut as she realized that it really had been weeks since she'd sent as much as an email to Nate.
"We're good," she shrugged, "you know, the job's the same as it always was. We're the same as we always were..." she trailed off, not sure exactly what it was that he wanted to hear.
The psychologist nodded, dredging the last sip from his cup.
"You never did answer my question," the agent said suddenly.
Nate's hand froze half-way towards picking up an Oreo.
"And what question was that?" he asked, knowing that they were both well aware of what question he was evading.
"How come you came straight here after landing?"
Nate shrugged, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck.
"I didn't come straight here. I checked into a hotel and—"
"And despite getting off a nine hour flight you decided to come here instead of getting a little rest? Don't get me wrong Nate, it's great to see you, it is but, why do I get a sense of...unease?" she asked, slowly leaning forward, being careful this time, and resting her elbows on the table.
Nate heaved a sigh, knowing that there was no point in hiding anything from her, she'd just have ways and means to find out another way and at least this way, didn't risk any injury for her...for him though, that was still on the cards.
"Okay...Hetty did call me yesterday," he paused, "but that was just to confirm a conversation we had a few weeks ago—about me coming to LA," he paused again, not comfortable divulging this information.
"Coming to LA for what?" Kensi asked, her brow furrowed.
"Coming to LA to...check up on Deeks," he murmured, not able to look her in the eye.
Kensi's frown deepened.
"So all that asking about Deeks and what did I mean he was 'back,' that was all an act? Hetty's already told you everything?!"
She couldn't help but feel angry on her partner's behalf. Yes, while Nate was a friend, he was also a psychologist that Hetty was divulging personal information about Deeks to and she wasn't okay with that...
"No, Hetty she—she didn't tell me everything. She just—told me that he quit the LAPD and...he was having a tough time after working on a particular case. I was supposed to fly out a few weeks ago but I couldn't get the time off and then you got shot and I—I didn't want to be in the way. I genuinely didn't know Deeks was back in work, Hetty didn't tell me anything. She just met me at the airport, told me something was going down at a hotel, advised me to come see you and keep my phone on," he finished, taking said phone out of his pocket and placing it on the table in front of him, beside hers.
Kensi stared at the two phones for a moment, letting his words sink in.
"What's going down at the hotel?" she asked, hoping to gain some information on what her team could possibly be working on.
He shrugged, seemingly relieved that she was taking this better than he expected.
"I've no idea, she just said something about a shrink maybe coming in handy, you know what Hetty's like..." he trailed off, folding his arms and waiting for the agent's response.
But Kensi was deep in thought, a feeling of discomfort rising in her chest. Why would Nate's shrink services be needed at a hotel? What was going on?
"So uh, anything good on TV?" Nate's voice interrupted her musing.
Her dark eyes snapped up to meet his, confusion crossing her features.
"You wanna watch TV?" she asked, a hint of suspicion in her tone.
He nodded, not really blaming her for her somewhat wary nature.
"Well, that's if you're up to it. I've got nowhere else to be..." he trailed off, standing up and depositing the coffee cups in the sink, turning back around and meeting her gaze.
"Yeah, uh, TV sounds good," she nodded, rising from the chair gently and shuffling into her living room, grabbing the remote from off her coffee table.
"So, tell me Nate," she murmured as she eased herself down onto her couch, the doc sitting next to her, "are you a John Hughes fan?"
Marty Deeks and Zackary Monroe watched as a cab pulled up outside the parking lot, two people, a young man and woman, stepping out; silver briefcases in their hands as they made their way towards them, thick, black sunglasses covering their eyes.
"Oh look, it's the Men in Black," Deeks deadpanned as Eric and Nell took off their shades and stared at him, the latter clearing her throat.
"I mean—the People in Black," he amended with a smirk.
"Good to have you back, Deeks," the intelligence analyst smiled as her partner nodded in agreement.
"Good to be back," he replied before clapping his hands and rubbing them together, "alright wonder twins, wow me."
Eric walked around him and the LAPD officers and halted at the small fold-up table that stood outside the large RV that was an electronic haven, decked out with all the fancy gadgets that the hostage negotiation team had to offer. With a flourish, he opened the briefcase to reveal a small, 11 inch laptop surrounded by a couple of flash-drives and other tiny electronic trinkets that Deeks didn't recognize.
"That's what's going to hack into the hotel's security feed and give us eyes and ears?" one of the officers asked sceptically, his tone derogative.
"Good things come in small packages," Nell replied, her tone very much matter-of-fact as she went to stand beside her partner, they sharing a glance.
Deeks raised his eyebrows and shrugged at Monroe who couldn't keep the smirk off his face, the joke not escaping either of them.
"Too easy..." he murmured under his breath.
"What do you mean he's not here?" Sam Hanna's voice interrupted as he neared them, his aggravated attitude directed at Detective Mackey.
"The head negotiator, he's not here. He's on a seminar in Washington," he replied, swallowing deeply, clearly on edge as the large ex-SEAL stared him down.
"Well, guess one of your guys is gonna have to step up, make the call," Callen interjected the detective and Sam's staring match.
"He's not gonna talk to a cop," Deeks piped up with a frown.
Everyone turned to look at the newly-appointed agent.
"He's pissed at authority right now. Granger said in the message that he seemed to be some sort of ex-Military, right? More than likely Navy. And he's targeted a Naval captain, odds are he's not going to talk to any person in the position of power, so I doubt he has the patience for a hostage negotiator or an ex-SEAL," he paused to nod at Sam, "or anyone affiliated with the Navy..." he trailed off as the faces around him turned grim.
"That doesn't leave us a whole lot of options, Deeks," Callen remarked just as a large, news van pulled up beside them, a camera man and a news reporter climbing out.
"Oh great, that's all we need," Mackey muttered as he stormed towards the newcomers.
Looks like they were about to go live...
Kensi snorted as Nate mouthed the words to the final scene in Ferris Bueller's Day Off, his eyes staring straight ahead as a pajama-clad Matthew Broderick spoke to the camera.
"I never knew you were such a fan," she smirked, clicking off the DVD player and turning back on the TV, flicking through the channels.
"Just of this movie...I always wanted a day off like Ferris, but my mom always knew when I was faking it," he grumbled.
"Mine too," Kensi lamented, halting on the news broadcast, her ears perking up as the blonde reporter spoke loudly to the camera.
"Breaking news live from west Los Angeles, this is Lacey Preston. There have been reports of a bomb scare at a ceremony in The Regency Hotel. Authorities are on sight but we have yet to—oh sir! Sir! Can we get a statement?"
Kensi gaped, watching as the camera swung around to an irritated, dark-haired man, following him. From the corner of the screen, the back of a blond man's head could also be seen for a fraction of a second. The agent did a double take, leaning forward slightly, trying to catch sight of the blond man again, wondering if her eyes had deceived her.
"Was that...?" she trailed off as the reporter caught the blond's arm, halting him.
"Sir, can we get a statement? Is there any truth to these claims? Are the residents of Los Angeles in danger?"
Kensi watched silently as the man she knew (despite only seeing the back of his head) to be Deeks halted, shrugging off the reporter's hand, his back still to the camera.
"Hey, I know as much as you, lady. But if you want a statement, here's your man, Detective Cameron Mackey," he threw over his shoulder, walking faster, clapping the gormless Mackey on the back and racing away, letting his former colleague get ambushed by the reporter and her dutiful camera-man.
"Eric..." he murmured as he walked past the wonder twins, his head held high, not daring to look back.
"I'll make sure your face wasn't captured," the tech-analyst replied without even looking up from his computer.
"Good. Don't want to be fired on my first day as an agent," Deeks mumbled as he headed towards the RV where the LAPD officers were waiting.
Meanwhile, Kensi sat back in her house, craning her neck in vain to try and see around the dark-haired man that was now being interviewed by the reporter, watching forlornly as the blond head disappeared from off the screen.
"There is no cause for panic, the residents of Los Angeles must remain calm and trust that the investigative services are working to confirm or refute the rumor but as if of yet, that's all it is. Now if you'll excuse me," Detective Mackey took his leave, Lacey Preston arriving back on screen.
"More on this story as it unfolds..."
Slowly, Kensi turned to Nate as he stared back at her, his expression a little sheepish.
"A bomb? That's what the guys are investigating?"
"Uh...looks like—"
"Don't give me that Nate, I know Hetty briefed you before sending you here," she sighed, shuffling a little, trying to settle the nerves that had begun fluttering in her stomach.
"I—"
"You were never that good of a liar, Nate," she interrupted, "I suppose Hetty told you not to fill me in too?"
Nate sighed, knowing he was caught.
"She didn't want you to...worry, I guess. She knows the pressure of being out of commission can do to an agent and with cases like these—"
"Tensions are high. I get it...I guess..." she murmured, running her hand through her hair and wincing at the pull of her skin.
Nate could feel her sudden tenseness rolling off her in waves. This was precisely what he wanted to avoid – anything that could stress her.
"Hey why don't we watch another movie? John Hughes has a lot of—"
"Hell no," she shook her head, gesturing to the TV, "no way I'm staying completely outta the loop. We're watching the news," she nodded, turning her attention back to the screen.
Nate threw her a sideways glance, gauging the growing anxiety in her body language.
It was going to be a long day...
G Callen heaved a sigh as he hung up the phone, making his way back over to his team.
"That was Hetty," he informed them, "she said that one of her old friends, a mutual friend of Granger's, just got a call from his Lieutenant Commander, ten minutes after our reporter friend over there ran the story of a bomb scare here..." he trailed off, observing with narrowed eyes the woman and her camera-man off in the distance and the small crowd of onlookers that had formed around the police tape.
"And?" Sam prodded as Monroe and Deeks turned to him.
"And apparently, he thinks he knows the bomber," he paused, stepping closer to his team, "he says that it could be an old friend of his, an ex-lieutenant named Oliver Bradley. Initially, Lieutenant Commander Jacobs was meant to go to the ceremony but was called away on business at the last minute. He also said that Bradley seen the invitation on his desk a few weeks ago and seemed angered by it. Now, according to Jacobs, he spoke to Bradley last night who said he had a new job, a photography gig," he paused, nudging Eric, "can you get up a list of the people expected at the ceremony today, focussing on who was booked to photograph the event?"
Eric nodded, tapping rapidly.
"You think he got entrance to the event by posing as a photographer?" Sam asked as Eric pulled up the guest list.
"Got it," he clicked his fingers, pointing to the name under 'photographer', "it says here that the photographer is a Mr Kevin Barnett..."
Nell's fingers flew across the keyboard at the speed of light, typing in the name, the driver's licence popping up almost instantaneously.
"Okay, we got a driver's licence. Kevin Barnett, thirty-three, 5'11", brown eyes..." she trailed off, now typing in the name 'Oliver Bradley' and running facial recognition between the two.
"Bingo," she murmured after a few moments. "We got a match. Looks like Kevin Barnett and Oliver Bradley are the same person, guys..."
The team exchanged glances, their faces each holding the same level of determination. Callen nodded, folding his arms as the two detectives from LAPD approached them.
"Find out everything you can about Oliver Bradley, Nell. If Granger's message to Hetty was right, we have less than three hours before that bomb detonates..."
Less than fifteen minutes later, six pairs of eyes watched intently as Marty Deeks picked up a phone, taking a deep breath and staring straight ahead, trying to get in the zone.
"Whatever you do Deeks, don't screw this up," Detective Mackey growled as he nodded at the technician to connect the call.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence Mackey, but I have done this before," Deeks replied as the dial tone rang in his ear.
"Well, I know your penchant for pissing people off. Harris says it's legendary," the detective smirked.
"Yeah and some of things Harris has said helped ruin the career of a good cop, so forgive me if I take anything he says with a grain of salt," he muttered just as someone picked up the phone, startling him.
When there was no voice at the other end, Deeks looked to his colleagues and shrugged, saying clearly into the receiver, "hello? Who am I talkin' to?"
After another beat of silence, a loud exhale of breath sounded, followed by a low, angered hiss:
"You called me. Who the hell am I talkin' to?"
The sound of a pin dropping could be heard in the function room of The Regency Hotel in west Los Angeles it was that silent. Fifty separate pairs of eyes watched on as Oliver Bradley paced back and forth, grumbling under his breath as the phone continued to ring. Finally, after about two solid minutes, he let out a growl of frustration and stormed across the room, hopping over the bar and answering the phone that lay beside the register. He didn't speak however, just listened. After a moment, an irritated glare passed over his face.
"You called me. Who the hell am I talkin' to?"
That caught Owen Granger's attention, his hawk eyes narrowing as he stared at Bradley from his position across the room, both hands bound to people either side of him. They all stood, side by side, in one large, long line that stretched the entire length of the room from the very tip to toe, at least a dozen people not fitting and having to awkwardly line themselves on the adjacent wall like a clumsy 'L' as Patrick Hart sat like piggy-in-the-middle, bound to a chair, his family too, a few feet from him.
"I'm hanging up. I'm not in the mood for negotiating or talkin' about my feelings or—"
"My name's Marty," Deeks interjected from his seat in the RV, staring at Eric and Nell for any sign that they had hacked into the security feed.
At the red-head's thumbs up, he leaned forward and saw that they had indeed a visual of inside the hotel lobby. With a couple of clicks, Eric found the room in question, everybody in the vicinity visibly stilling as he put the image up on the large screen for all to see. There, in somewhat blurred colour, was at least fifty frightened people, all bound together, standing with their backs against the wall, staring silently at the man off to the side, behind the bar, phone to his ear.
"Well Marty, I'm not interested in anything you have to say. Goodbye—"
"Wait!" Deeks cut across him, "wait I just—I just wanna know what Captain Patrick Hart did to you. That's all..."
There was a long silence, then. So long in fact that if Deeks couldn't see him on the screen, he would have thought that he'd put the phone down and walked away.
"He didn't do anything to me..." he murmured, emotion heavy in his tone, "but he's the reason why my brother's dead. And he has to pay for that."
Deeks caught Callen's gaze, a silent understanding passing between them.
"But the innocent people, those in there with you and the many others that could be harmed if you detonate that bomb..." he trailed off, letting his words hang.
"How did you find out about the bomb?" Bradley asked, no anger in his tone, just suspicious curiosity.
"You don't seem to care that we know," Deeks dodged the question with an observation.
"And why would I? Once Patrick Hart gets what's comin' to him, I don't give a damn what you know or what you don't. Who are you anyway? LAPD?"
"No, I'm not LAPD," he murmured, avoiding his colleagues' eyes.
"They fire you for being a crappy hostage negotiator?" Oliver asked, the smirk evident in his tone.
"No. I quit. It was one of the hardest things I ever had to do but...it just wasn't...who I was anymore," he responded, not entirely sure how the conversation had taken this turn.
His words were met by another short silence. Deeks' eyes trained on the screen, watching as Bradley shuffled back and forth, shifting his weight from foot to foot before answering.
"I quit the Navy...that really the way you're going to try and connect with me, man?"
"You quit because of what happened to your brother?" Deeks dodged again, genuinely curious as Eric or Nell couldn't find any information on why he was discharged yet.
"It was one of the reasons...yeah," Bradley replied slowly.
There was a beat of silence.
"Well, Marty, this has been fun and all but—"
"Don't you have a list of demands?" the ex-detective cut across him, leaning forward in his seat, his eyes glued to the screen, watching intently as Oliver shifted back and forth on his heels.
"That would imply that I want to negotiate. In case you missed it Marty...I don't," he responded, the condescension dripping from his tone.
"So you're just going to murder hundreds of people to destroy one man? Why not just shoot him?"
Six pairs of eyes gaped at Deeks, not believing what he just said.
"Are you trying to get people killed!?" Mackey hissed as Deeks waved him off, his gaze still glued to the screen, watching the ex-lieutenant's every move.
"Because something tells me you're not that guy, Bradley. Something tells me you know the devastation that a family goes through when a loved-one dies...I don't think you want to be responsible for hundreds of people's grief..." he trailed off, his eyes narrowing as he watched Bradley's hand that hung loose by his leg twitch.
"You've talked to me for what...five minutes and you think you know me, Marty?" he asked, his voice turning defensive.
"I don't know you," Deeks jumped in, his heart hammering, not wanting to anger him, "but I know someone like you. Someone that had a bad thing happen to someone he loves and wanted nothing more than to kill the person that did it..."
If Deeks were to look around him, he'd notice that every single person in the RV was staring at him, on the edge of their seats, wondering if what he was saying was true.
"And who's that?"
Deeks paused, taking a breath before answering:
"Me."
"So...what do you think he meant?" Nell Jones murmured softly to her partner as they went back to work at the table outside the RV a few minutes later.
"What?" Eric asked, his face tinged with confusion.
"Deeks...what do think he meant when he said he was someone who wanted nothing more than kill the person who hurt somebody he loves?" she edged closer, her tone laced with a hint of conspiracy.
"Isn't that pretty self-explanatory?" he replied, his eyes locking on hers.
"No, Eric—who do you think he was talking about?" she asked, evoking a wide-eyed glance from the tech-analyst.
"Uh..." he mumbled, wracking his brain as her eyebrows rose in anticipation.
"Nell, you get anything on Bradley yet?" Callen interrupted them, stepping out of the RV and approaching them.
"Uh yes, he lives in an apartment downtown, is single, has had some menial jobs in the last few years and no criminal record," she rattled off details from Bradley's file before turning to the agent.
"What's his address? Me and Sam are gonna go check out his apartment, see if there's anything that can tell us just what kinda bomb we're dealing with..." he trailed off just as Sam stepped out of the large vehicle too.
"Deeks still has him talkin'. For a guy that wasn't interested in negotiating five minutes ago, our new agent seems to have brought him outta his shell," he said, arms folded as he nodded at his partner.
"Well, let's hope Deeks can convince him not to blow up his shell," Callen murmured before checking the address Nell just sent him on his phone and heading over to the car.
The two analysts watched them go silently. After a beat, Nell turned back to Eric.
"I'm really glad I'm not Deeks right now..."
"Yes, I understand that Director Vance, I will indeed. You will be the first to know," Henrietta Lange promised before dropping hanging up the phone, a sigh on her lips.
It had been over an hour since she had gotten the distress message from Deputy Director Owen Granger and from then on she had been bombarded by the higher-ups for any information on his status. After receiving word from her team that the newly appointed Agent Deeks had taken point in the hostage negotiation, Hetty breathed a sigh of relief. She was well aware of the ex-liaison's past experience, knew more than she let on about a particular case he had worked on a few years ago involving a hostage situation of the same calibre. She was confident; if anyone could talk down Mr. Bradley it was Marty Deeks.
Shaking herself from her musings, she got her head into the game, preparing for what was surely going to be a rather difficult meeting. While she had every confidence in her team's abilities to rectify the situation, certain measures had to be put in place, in case worst came to worst. So, with a deep breath she pushed away from her desk and made the short trek towards the door of OSP, trying to push down her personal feelings and anxieties about her old friend's safety and that of the people of Los Angeles.
Now, there was work to be done.
G Callen and Sam Hanna walked briskly down the corridor, halting outside door 22 and nodding silently to each other. Attentively, Sam opened the door using the key they got from the superintendent and peered in. For all they knew, the place could be booby-trapped and they had come far too close with house bombs before to go in blindly. After a careful inspection of the immediate area, he nodded to his partner before stepping across the threshold, letting out a sharp breath at the suspenseful silence. So far, things seemed to be safe enough.
Quickly and quietly, the duo made their way through the small apartment, careful to search for trip wires, alarms, anything remotely suspicious that could tip them off to a planted bomb or defense mechanism. It seemed, after their first sweep however that Bradley had left them no such present as they came up empty on anything, the place cluttered with every conceivable kind of object from stacks of old newspapers to an assortment of old figurines, but nothing particularly dangerous.
"He must have a secondary location, somewhere he would have the space and privacy to make a bomb," Callen murmured as he searched Bradley's room.
"Eric said he was a photographer, right? Started about two years ago after havin' a few odd jobs to put him through classes?" Sam asked, his face suggesting to his partner that he had a theory.
At Callen's nod, Sam turned and retrieved something from off the desk behind him before holding it up for his partner to see.
"Well," he shrugged, the black and white photograph of a lake in his hand, "where do you think he'd go to develop these?"
A bead of sweat trickled down towards Marty Deeks' left eyebrow as he swallowed deeply, his throat going a little dry as he thought hard on how to answer Oliver Bradley's question.
"Well, Marty?" Bradley's voice was imploring in his ear, "what did you do to the guy that hurt your loved-one?"
"I didn't strap a bomb to my chest and take over a hotel full of people if that's what you're asking..."
The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He didn't know why, but something about this conversation had him a little less on edge than he should have been in the situation. God knows the last time he was faced with this sort of situation, he never would have dared to run his mouth off, but something about all this just felt...off. He couldn't put his finger on it but...Bradley he just didn't sound like a man that intended to blow up a building. He was emotional, sure, very angry and in pain but he didn't have that tone. He knew the one, the tone that suggested that he wanted nothing more than grievous bodily harm, that edge to his voice that let everybody know that he was prepared to snuff out people's lives like the wick of a candle...
Any trace of that was absent. So Deeks went with his gut, despite his brain's protests.
"We all have our methods, Marty," Bradley replied, cutting across him before he could get the words out.
After a beat, he took his chance.
"Yeah, that's true Oliver, we all have our methods. And yours is, I gotta say buddy, an unconventional one. Tell me...apart from teaching the Captain a lesson, what exactly is your endgame here? Because it's not to blow up those innocent people," he halted, leaning forward and staring at Bradley on the screen, watching as his posture went rod-straight.
"Oh really? And why do you think that? I do have the motive, means and opportunity. Why not blow everybody up?"
And there it was. The magic words Deeks had been waiting to hear. The words fraught with hesitation. The subconscious questioning of his own actions. The sounds of a man who had only blindly thought of one thing and one thing only: revenge on the man that hurt him and yet, now faced with the follow-through, was in way over his head. Deeks knew how to play this...
"Because like I said, Oliver, you're not that guy. You're not a cold-blooded murderer; I can hear it in your voice. So why don't we talk about maybe letting the hostages go, huh? You said you had no demands but I'm prepared to try and get you whatever I can in order for those people to be set free. This isn't my first rodeo and I know you know how this works. You hold all the cards here, you're in control. No one, Captain or otherwise, can take that from you..." he trailed off, hoping he was right in going with Bradley's obvious dislike of authority, of making him the alpha in this.
There was a long silence then. Two bright eyes stayed glued to the screen, watching Bradley's every twitch, ignoring the other eyes he knew were glued to him watching his every twitch. It was a bold move, unconventional much like Bradley's plan, but that's why he went with it. Everything about this case screamed unorthodox, thus an out-of-the-box approach was needed to counteract the situation. He just hoped it paid off...
"Alright, if you're so sure I'm a good person, how about a little sign of good faith," Bradley responded after much deliberation.
Deeks' eyebrows rose, wondering where he was going with this.
"Sure. Name it."
"Oh no, not yet...where would be the fun in that? No, how about we take this to another level huh? I gotta admit, you have me curious, Marty. And seen as I only have a little over two hours to live I wanna satisfy that curiosity..."
An ominous feeling rose from the depths of Deeks' stomach as he waited for Bradley to continue.
"I think a face to face is in order...then you can really judge just what kinda man I am..."
"Storage locker 147, this is it," Callen halted, nodding to Sam before holding up his hand to the manager.
"Please sir, a little privacy..." he trailed off, watching as the manager seemed to be only too happy to give them as much privacy and space as they needed by turning on his heel and walking away.
After the civilian was safely out of harm's way, Callen turned to his partner who unlocked the pad lock, stilled for a moment before pulling up the shutter. At his partner's nod, in one fell swoop, he wrenched the door upwards and braced himself. When nothing out of the ordinary occurred, the partners exchanged another glance and let out inaudible, relieved sighs.
"Looks like he was using it as a make-shift dark-room," Sam commented as they stepped into the darkness, the dim, overcast sunlight barely illuminating the dank space.
Callen stepped in line behind him, his eyes scanning the pictures the hung from a line.
"There's Hart," he pointed to one of the many photos containing the Captain and his wife, "Bradley was doing recon..."
Two pairs of eyes raked every inch of the locker before finally reaching the end of the narrow space, confronted by a large, wooden desk empty of any and all objects except a lone, black-plastic box partially hidden underneath it.
"What have we got here...?" Callen murmured to himself, shinning his flashlight down onto the box, his gloved hand reaching out very carefully lift the lid slightly.
"Whoa..." Sam breathed as dozens of wires, electronic gadgets and an assortment of other nefarious items were revealed.
"Looks like we found his box of tricks," G shrugged, "what you think? The makings of a bomb?"
Sam nodded, convinced in that assumption before something caught his eye.
Carefully, he reached out and retrieved a laptop from underneath a bundle of books, holding it out for his partner to see.
"Looks like Christmas is coming early for Nell and Eric," he said just as Callen's phone began to ring.
"Speak of the devil," he muttered as he answered the call.
"Yeah Nell?"
"Uh Callen?" Nell's voice sounded in his ear, her tone seeming a little nervous, "I uh...I think you and Sam better get back here..."
Callen frowned.
"What's up?"
There was a slight pause, as if the intelligence analyst was picking her words carefully.
"I uh...I think Deeks is about to do something stupid."
The two partners raced across the parking lot, towards where a familiar scruffy-bearded, fluffy-haired ex-detective could be seen standing, arguing with Cameron Mackey.
"Look I—I could hear it in his voice, okay? There's something about all this that isn't sitting right with me," he was hissing under his breath, being careful that the ever-present news camera couldn't hear a word – despite it being a distance away. Better safe than sorry.
"You mean apart from the crazy guy with a bomb strapped to his chest?" Mackey snarled, arms folded, nostrils flared.
"But that's just it, Mackey. He isn't crazy. At least, he doesn't seem to be. There's something...when he spoke to me I—I think it's a cry for help," Deeks murmured just as he saw Callen and Sam arrive out of his peripheral vision.
"Well, excuse me Dr. Deeks, but let's just say I'll take whatever you say with a pinch of salt," he replied pointedly, exchanging a glance with the other NCIS agents, "but hey, it's your life you're risking, who am I to stand in your way?" he finished, throwing his hands up in the air.
"It has to be me," the blond insisted, trying to convince his colleagues who stared at him.
"Deeks—"
"No listen," he cut across Callen, "it has to be me that goes in there. He talked to me and only me, and asked specifically for some face time. You guys are going to be busy with clearing the area and I have experience in hostage negotiation, I—I think I can gain his trust, get him to disarm the bomb," Deeks said, his tone dripping with determination as he paced back and forth.
"And if you can't?" Sam asked, exchanging a glance with his partner.
"Then," the newly-appointed agent murmured, his tone one of reservation, "boom..."
The dark orbs of Dr. Nate Getz flickered to his old friend Kensi Blye, drinking in her tense shoulders as her eyes glued to the TV, waiting silently for any update on the case. Unfortunately, the reporter would have had better luck getting blood from a stone than she did getting a statement from any of the on-sight cops and failed to even capture any of the NCIS team on camera. It had been over an hour and a half since Kensi started watching the news and as of yet she gained nothing to give her an idea of what was going on.
Nate took a breath, saying the first thing that popped in his head to try and get her attention away from the television:
"Hey Kens, you hungry? I was thinking we could order—"
"Right, Nate, you must be starving! Should we get take-out? I've a pizza menu from the new place down the street," Kensi rambled, seemingly grateful for the distraction, before she stood up quickly, forgetting herself and hissing loudly as her skin pulled, a sharp dart of pain jabbing her in the abdomen.
"Shit..." she muttered under her breath, her hand pressing lightly to her stomach.
"Hey Kens, it's okay, I got it," Nate said gently, standing up and putting a hand on her shoulder. "You sit down; I'll go get the menus..."
Kensi stared at him, her eyes flashing with frustration. But he made sure no air of condescension could be discerned in his tone, only concern.
"You take a seat, I'll be right back," he squeezed her shoulder, before taking his phone out of his pocket and making his way into the kitchen.
He stepped towards the sink, reaching out for one of the many set of menus that were stacked up on the counter when something caught his attention. There, not two feet away from him, lay a folded jacket, a jacket that he recognized.
"Looks like Deeks forgot his jacket," he couldn't help but comment as he came back into the living room.
"How did you know it was Deeks'?" she asked curiously as he sat back down on the couch, handing her the menus.
"It's years old but is well kept. If I were to guess, I'd say he's had it since he became a rookie. It has sentimental value," Nate shrugged, handing her his phone to dial the number for the take-out.
"You got all of that from glancing at a jacket?" she asked, her tone a little disbelieving.
"Yeah," he nodded, "and I do know Deeks a little more than you might think, Kens..."
Her eyebrows rose, her teeth peeking out to chomp on her bottom lip. She didn't know why, but that statement made her a little uncomfortable.
"Was he here yesterday?" Nate continued, trying to make conversation as he noticed the metaphorical shutters behind Kensi's eyes slowly closing.
"Yeah he—he and his mom came over for dinner," she mumbled, her eyes fluttering back to the TV.
"Wow, dinner with the parents, huh? That's kinda a big deal," he smirked playfully before the smile slipped off his face, noticing how Kensi had stilled, her eyes widening, her mouth dropping open.
"Kensi what—"
Nate broke off when his followed her gaze, gaping as he realized what she was staring at.
"Is that—"
"Yep."
"Is he—"
"Yep."
There, on the thirty inch television, a tiny dot made its way up the screen, ever noticeable for the fluffy flaxen hair. It was Agent Marty Deeks, his form visible from behind as an aerial-view-camera zoomed in to where he was slowly but steadily advanced on the hotel, no body protection or any conceivable back up in sight.
"What the hell is he doing?" Nate asked, his expression a little alarmed.
But Kensi didn't reply, instead she leapt up; seemingly ignoring what must have been agonizing pain and hobbled out of the room. Nate sat frozen on the couch, stunned at her sudden movement and retreat, listening to the hurried sounds omitting from the corridor. Before he could question what is was she was doing, she shuffled back into the room with shoe-covered feet, one arm in a large, black coat, the other hanging limply at her side. Without looking at him, she very carefully slipped her other arm into the sleeve, wincing, a puff of pained air bursting from her lungs.
"Kensi what—"
She cut him off by stepping forward and wrenching his cell phone out of his hand.
Nate gaped at her brazenness while she ignored his reaction, dialling a number on the phone and holding it up to her ear. After a moment, she spoke curtly:
"Yes, I'd like a cab, please."
The psychologist was shocked into further silence as he listened to her give out her address and hang up before tossing his phone back at him and beginning to button up her coat.
"Kensi, you can't seriously be considering—"
"I need some fresh air, Nate. If I choose the block that The Regency Hotel happens to be on is my business," she interjected again, her fingers shaking a little, fumbling with the buttons.
Nate stepped forward, trying to catch her eye.
"Kensi, as a doctor—"
"A psychologist," she deadpanned as she finished buttoning up her coat.
"Yeah and as a psychologist," Nate pressed, "I can say that this is crazy!"
Her lips pursed at that but she merely shook her head and grabbed her bag.
"Yeah well, crazy or not Nate, my partner for some unknown and likely stupid reason is about to go into a hotel that a real crazy guy rigged with a bomb so forgive me if I'm not the epitome of rationale right now," she rambled, her hands still a little shaky.
He was a little surprised at that particular outburst. It wasn't like the Kensi he knew to offer up her emotions to him on a plate like that but it truly showed the intensity of her worry that she didn't even try to hide it. Before he could voice this however, she shook her head and rolled her eyes impatiently.
"I can't just stand here, I'm gonna wait outside. You're free to crash in the spare room. I'll see you later," she murmured, walking as fast as she could to her door.
"Whoa, whoa, hang on—" he held up his hands, snatching his belongings from off the couch and pulling on his jacket, "no way you're going alone. I'm coming too!"
She merely stared at him before ushering him impatiently to step out the now open door. He hastily complied, watching as she closed her door behind them, locking it up. With a deep breath, she turned back around; her head held high, determination etched across her face. It seemed they were paying west Los Angeles a visit.
While Nate was filled with an air of foreboding, it appeared that Kensi's mind was in one track mode. Get to the hotel. Stop Deeks from doing something stupid like going into a building that may or may not explode. And in her haste to get out of her home and to the hotel in little to no time, she didn't miss her cell phone, it still lying lonely and forgotten on her kitchen table...
Marty Deeks took a deep breath as he stepped around the side of the lavish hotel, towards the emergency exit as per Bradley's request. He knew the huge risk he was taking, could feel it in his bones, in his blood, in his heart and head but he dismissed it, pushed down the sense that he was being sent to the gallows.
Bradley's not gonna blow the place up. I know he's not. I studied his file, his voice, his body language – he's not a cold-blooded killer...he's not.
Deeks' own voice was reverberating in his ears, trying to comfort him into believing that he had made the right decision. That his gut instinct was correct. That his experience with all different types of people from different walks of life with varying crimes over his years as a cop had helped him catalogue a system to help him identify the malicious, the sociopathic, the psychopathic...the ruthless murderer and thus leading him to conclude that Oliver Bradley wasn't one of them. That he was just a grief-ridden man desperate for justice and just needed to be talked down off the ledge, to get that push to make him realize that he wasn't that man. That he wasn't a killer. Dozens of people's lives depended on it.
No pressure.
"Okay, I'm going in," he murmured, knowing that the com in his ear would pick up his voice, "you guys still have a visual?"
"Watching the room as we speak. Bradley is pacing, the hostages are lined around the room like before," Nell's voice sounded in his ear.
"Okay then...guess it's time to get this party started," he mumbled to himself as he reached out to open the emergency door, trying to put out of his mind the fact that he could be walking to his death.
He may not walk away from this. He may be taking his last breaths. He may never able to finally tell Kensi how he feels about her...
"Keep the change," Kensi Blye rambled, thrusting a twenty dollar bill into the taxi driver's hand before opening the door and begrudgingly taking Nate's hand to help her out of the car.
After she slowly straightened up, she pushed past her friend, her determination never wavering as she boldly wrapped her hand around the police tape, lifted it over her head so she didn't have to bend and walked into the cordoned off area as if she had every right to be there. And in a way, she did. She just hoped she wasn't too late...
"We can't get audio from the cameras?" she heard Callen's voice first as she neared a large RV, aware that nobody appeared to be paying attention to her - a bomb threat took precedent in everyone's list of priorities, she and Nate may as well be invisible, an advantage that worked for her.
"No, the only sound we got is Deeks' com," Eric replied grimly.
The brunette approached silently but she knew they sensed her presence. Slowly, Sam, Callen, Nell and Eric all turned to look at her, their expressions all identical in their shock.
"Kensi?" Eric gaped.
"Nate?" Nell gawked.
Kensi took a step towards them, her eyes travelling to each of her colleagues separately before she opened her mouth, angry, anxious words falling from her lips:
"Would somebody like to tell me why you just let Deeks walk into a bomb-rigged hotel with absolutely no back-up?!"
"You sure about this, Deeks?" Zackary Monroe's voice came from the com, directly into his ear.
"Trust me Monroe, I know what I'm doing..." Deeks whispered as he made his way towards the stage, halting at the large curtains.
"That makes one of us..." were the last words Deeks heard before he halted, listening intently for any sounds.
Taking a deep breath to psych himself up for what was about to happen, the agent called out softly to Bradley from behind the drapes.
"Oliver, it's me, Marty..."
Dead silence followed his words. Looked like Bradley wasn't going to make this easy for him...
Resigned to what he had to do, Deeks slowly reached forward and drew back the curtain, his eyes widening as he was met with quite the sight.
There, mere feet from the stage, stood dozens of people all bound together in a large line, their terrified faces directed at the man who stood in the middle of the room beside another man who sat slumped and bound in a chair.
As Deeks took another step further onto the stage, countless pairs of eyes darted towards him, some wide with shock, others with relief, others with fear and others with anticipation.
Bradley stepped in front of Hart, shielding him from view.
"GET BACK! NOW!"
Deeks stepped out of the shadows, his hands held up in surrender, inching closer to Oliver.
"I'm unarmed," he called, "it's just me Oliver, I'm by myself..." he trailed off, the small gun secretly strapped to his ankle feeling like his one and only lifeline.
The ex-Lieutenant stared at him, his dark eyes flashing dangerously.
Slowly, he raised the pistol, aiming it at Deeks' head.
"I said...get back."
Deeks held up his hands in surrender, taking a step back, his eyes never leaving the other man's.
"So...you said you wanted to talk?"
Here, Oliver's face twisted a little, his mouth smirking crookedly.
"I said a face to face was in order. I never said anything about talking..." he trailed off, shuffling towards him.
Well, just what could he say to that?
"Okay, if not to talk then what did you want me here for?"
Oliver tilted his head, his eyes flashing with something indistinguishable.
"Well Marty, you seemed so...confident that I wasn't going to blow this place to smithereens and harm all these innocent people...so I just thought I should tell you in person that you were right..."
Deeks' frantic heart began to slow a little.
"Really? Well that's great Oli—"
"But that's only because I've come up with a better plan," he cut across him, stepping even closer to Deeks until he was at the foot of the stairs of the stage, his dark eyes boring into him.
The blond's frantic heart quickened again as his gaze glued to the now-visible, bright-red numbers that were strapped to Bradley's chest. 1:23:09...08...07...
"And what's that?" he asked, his throat drying.
Oliver stared at him, his face still unreadable as he opened his mouth to say quietly but confidently:
"The hostages can go, but you gotta stay..."
A/N: Wow. This chapter was difficult! :-/ I've been under a lot of stress lately and it's not my best work but I hope you liked it anyway! The next chapter is going to be the biggest in the entire story – not necessarily in word count but in content – it's what I'm affectionately calling THE ULTIMATE DENSI MOMENT :) So yeah, hope you're all looking forward to reading it as much as I am to writing it. And because I want to get into the festive mood, here's an extra special teaser for the next chapter:
NEXT CHAPTER TEASER:
"Please," Deeks mumbled, wiping the blood from his temple as he stared up at Bradley who had begun to sweat profusely.
"Please, let me make just one phone call. It's very important...there's someone out there that needs to know how much I love her."
Please Review =]
~Cortexikid x