The Bad Guys Never Forget & Never Forgive
Chapter 5
a/n: keep in mind this is a work of fiction...prisoner transport protocol, government personnel file safety protocols and anything else that sounds 'official' are entirely a product of my 'gamers' imagination...
...NCIS LA...
The convoy had been at the prison for nearly half an hour. Deeks and Callen stood by the transport van waiting for Masterson and Craig to return with the prisoner.
"Half over," Callen said.
""Yeah, it's all uphill from here," Deeks joke fell flat.
"Three hours tops and we done with all of this..." Callen reminded the detective.
Looking at Callen, Deeks said with mild sarcasm, "...yeah, just three hours locked in an eight by twelve box with a man who wants nothing more than to see me dead..."
"That's why they pay us the big bucks," Callen said with a smirk.
"If it is any consolation, Eric has the entire route on thermal satellite and nothing but the Marshall's teams are coming up," Hetty interjected into the conversation.
"That's providing all those teams are Marshalls..." Deeks said with a sigh.
"Didn't they show you files of all the Marshalls and PD officers to vet their legitimacy on this transport team," Callen demanded.
"Yeah, I went over the files, but it's been over two years, people can change, be bought off..." Deeks said with mild frustration. "I wasn't exactly given enough time to run back ground checks to determine the validity of anything in the files."
"Eric can we get the files of all the Marshall's on this run," Callen asked tightly.
"Their personnel files would be encrypted just like any government files to protect the agent's identities from exposure...I could probably get them but it might take a while to break the encryption..." Eric explained.
"Do what you can and get it to Deeks phone as soon as you get anything," Callen said.
"Even if all the teams are legit...Harkins is known to have a flair for the dramatic...he was always doing over the top things..." Deeks said, "...once he wanted fresh lobster for dinner and sent one of his boys clear across the country for fresh Maine lobster...when the guy couldn't get back because flights were grounded in the east due to severe weather he nearly tore the kitchen apart in a rage..."
Giving a heavy sigh, Deeks turned to face the older agent, "the guy is well and truly nuts, man...brilliant, but absolutely crazy...and I am not ashamed to say it; this dude gives me the creeps..."
"How in the hell did this guy stay in business...keep any employees or contacts...?" Callen asked.
The NCIS team never followed up much on the case, outside of a few debriefs and after action reports, as the case had only been there's for less than a week, compared to the LAPD's months that they had setting up their sting: then the Marshall's service had stepped in, and with new cases demanding their attention, they gave the case off easily to the agency that had the most man hours invested.
"Because he was brilliant, one of the best con men I have ever seen...could plan and coordinate any kind of heist or broker any kind of deal, even between the deadliest of enemies—hell, he could have gotten the Comescue's and the Callen's to the table to broker a deal..." Deeks explained, his eyes taking on that far off look of one sifting through memories.
Callen noted a bit of awe in the detectives voice, as well as some fear, and his estimation of the dangerousness of their prisoner ratcheted up a level. In the months the team had worked with the detective, Deeks was constantly trying to find his nitch in a team of highly trained agents, find something to hold up to their level of expertise and experiences, never one to play the underdog. So, for the detective to share his feelings, and most especially his fears, this easily, made the agent take immediate notice. If the detective was truly concerned enough to admit to Callen that he was 'afraid' of this man, then the team needed to step up their vigilance.
Unaware of the concerned looks being directed at him by the agent, Deeks continued with his narrative, "...he just had this knack to know the right thing to say; somehow always knew what both sides wanted and how to get it for them. It took us over a year to even begin to get enough on him to consider opening an investigation; the man was always three steps ahead of us...it was just luck that one of my old aliases pinged on his radar. Harkins actually contacted me for a job."
Callen raised an eyebrow at that piece of news. It went a long way in explaining how Harkins and the arms deals made it to the LAPD's attention long before NCIS or any other agency.
"If you managed to stay on his good side...he paid damn good...and he extended a fierce kind of loyalty to all his 'employees'...and he expected in to be returned in kind 110%," Deeks finished with a heavy sigh, seeming to come back to himself and shooting a look towards Callen to gauge his reaction.
"Explains why anyone would risk staying with him," Callen commented, his tone and expression neutral.
Deeks nodded, "Yeah, the money kept most around...that and the fear of pissing him off," turning to fix a gaze on the agent, "we both know what he does to people who piss him off."
Their conversation was halted by the buzz of the interior gates, and the two men turned to watch as Harkins was escorted from the prison by Masterson and Craig.
The three years in prison and the cancer ravaging the man's body had not been kind to Harkin's. Where the two men once remembered a tall, proud man, Harkins was now stooped with illness; his once thick black hair was nearly entirely gray and already showing signs of thinning and his dark, exotic features were pinched and sallow.
"Not so scary now..." Callen commented.
"It's not his physical prowess that was ever scary, though he was an imposing figure," Deeks shot back, pushing himself from the van, "it's his mental one..."
Nodding in agreement, Callen also stood straighter, crossing his arms and settling a hard gaze on the approaching trio.
Stopping at the back of the van while Craig undid the lock; Harkins, despite the illness that was ravaging his body, eyed his surroundings with clear, cunning eyes...before resting on the two men standing at the van.
The predatory smile that crossed Harkin's features at seeing Deeks raised Callen's hackles and sent off warning bells in his head; and even without turning to see the detectives reaction, Callen could almost feel the shudder go through his new team mate.
"Sully...oh, no, my mistake; Detective Deeks," Harkins said smoothly, like he was greeting an old friend, "imagine my surprise at seeing you here...", though his tone held none of the surprise he spoke.
Instinctively seeking to protect a member of his team, Callen stepped in between Harkins and Deeks, asking smugly, "What about me Harkins...you remember me...?"
Harkins cocked his head, and Callen thought he indeed saw a brief flash of surprise in Harkin's eyes as he eyed the agent with dark, calculating eyes; and for a brief moment Callen understood Deeks uneasiness at being this close to Harkins. Despite the security the prison walls and dozens of guards and Marshall's provided, Callen felt exposed and vulnerable in Harkin's piercing gaze.
"NCIS Agent Callen...late to the party, but none the less a player in contributing to my current accommodations," Harkin's said easily, his tone light yet somehow darkly promising in retribution.
Smirking, Callen nodded, "Always happy to help."
To that Harkin's had no reply, but rather just nodded.
"That's enough Harkins," Masterson interjected harshly, "time to go..."
Harkin's looked to the Marshall and nodded, "by all means, it is well past time to leave this confinement."
As Harkin's climbed into the van, Callen turned to Deeks and put a hand on the detective's shoulder before moving to ruffle his shaggy hair and unobtrusively tap on the ear with the earwig, "We got your back on this...don't forget that..."
Smiling tightly, Deeks nodded, "Yeah, thanks..."
Nodding back, Callen stepped aside and offered needless assistance to Deeks as the detective climbed into the back of the van. As Callen stepped back to watch Deeks settle on the bench seat across from the now secured Harkins, he was loathe too note Harkins eying Deeks with great interest.
Feeling the agent's hard stare, Harkins simply turned his gaze to Callen and nodded, a sneering smile on his face he commented, "So glad you could join our little reunion agent Callen."
Deeks head shot up, first to Harkins then locking with Callen's as the agent responded dryly, "Wouldn't be anywhere else, Harkins..."
With that, a heavy knot of dread settled in Callen's gut as the heavy slam of the van doors and click of the locks essentially just trapped his team mate within feet of a dangerous sociopath for the next three hours.
...NCIS LA...
Twenty five minutes into the trip and little beyond updates between the vehicles and the transport van had broken the silence in the van.
He couldn't help smiling to himself, as every five or ten minutes one of his team would offer him a few words of encouragement or an update.
"Thermal imaging still only show the Marshall's teams set up along the route," Eric reported twenty minutes into the transport.
"My end is clear, no one is following the convoy on my end," Sam added.
"The tail end seems clear too, nothing but normal traffic," Kensi said.
Deeks desperately wanted to say something to his team, but knew well enough that the Marshall's riding in the van didn't need to know he was in contact with NCIS ops.
For his part, Harkins had sat quietly, his head resting back against the side of the van, eyes closed and a small smile playing across his face: never once acknowledging the Marshall's or the detective.
Deeks couldn't decide whether to be more unnerved by Harkins continued silence or the expectation of the threats he had expected from the man.
Finally not being able to stand the silence, Deeks asked warily, "...why are you smiling?"
Raising his head to look at the detective, Harkins replied casually, "enjoying my new found freedom..."
"Don't get used to it," Masterson spat out from the front of the van. "You'll be back safely in your new 'accommodations' by the end of the day, Harkins."
Looking to the front of the van, Harkins just smiled, "Why of course Lt. Masterson..."
Deeks hair stood on end when Harkins turned back to him, that cruel smile still set on his face—and he gave the detective an exaggerated wink, as he whispered conspiraticely, "definitely better accommodations..."
All thoughts of subtlety flying out the window, Deeks scrambled to the front of the van, demanding, "...what's the status of the convoy...have they all checked in...when was the last time you heard from the stationary checkpoints...Eric what do you see on thermals..."
Masterson turned towards the suddenly frantic detective, "what the hell detective...who's Eric; we're in contact with the rest of the convoy every ten minutes, the stationary units every fifteen..."
"Call them, call them all now..." Deeks demanded of Masterson before demanding through his earwig, "Callen, Callen, be ready...something's up..."
Deeks looked towards Harkins, who had just closed his eyes and leaned back against the van wall; that cruel, knowing smile still adorning his face.
"Callen...Agent Callen," Masterson said in confusion, unable to follow the frantic detective's sudden changes in who he seemed to be addressing over the comms...
Turns out he really didn't have time to contemplate why the detective seemed to be in contact with other's outside of the Marshall's convey; a startled yell from his driver had them all peering out the front window of the van...
"What he hell," Masterson huffed out.
In the next instant his world exploded in a world of fire, blazing heat and crunching metal...
...NCIS LA...
a/n: I will freely admit...am not nearly as "smart" as a con man...but to give you an idea of what I'm going for...I am picturing Harkins 'brilliance' to be a combo of Nate from Leverage and Clooney's character from Ocean's 11; with a huge dose of the worst sociopath your minds can come up with ! So, I have to ask, with my subtle hints; am I making this dude creepy enough...sometimes leaving it to the reader's imagination gives for a far creepier scene/villain than what the writer could ever create