Dirty Little Secrets
By: The Dark Loremaster

Chapter Two-

He stared at the photograph in his hands as he laid back on the bed of the motel room that had been reserved in Meyers' name. He could not get his mind around the fact that this woman, this FBI agent, was so strongly wanted by the Yakuza. He had suspected that she had gotten close to solving this case, or at the very least, putting the pieces of the puzzle together in some order that gave her the necessary clues to pursue them. Perhaps she was toeing the line, gradually growing as a threat to them and what they stood for. She was no longer under the grid, barely noticeable by the Yakuza. She was a prime target, and it was his job to haul her in like a piece of cattle. Undercover, he knew he would have to do just that, unless there was some way, any way, that he could remove her from the equation and put off having to do what was requested of him.

Sighing, he dropped the picture next to him on the bed, moving his hands behind his head so that his blue eyes were now staring up at the ceiling. He had questioned himself about the possibility of going to Eric for assistance, but he was careful about the use of his phone and traveling too far from where he was staying. He had convinced himself that eyes would be on him, and he knew that he had reason to believe that. Kudoh had given him the distinct impression that he was the property of the Yakuza. Yes, Meyers was technically on leave, but Callen was certain that even in Japan, the man was being watched closely. Yet, there must have been some distance maintained if Meyers had been detained that morning with drug paraphernalia. Not once did Kudoh make any mention of that, so maybe there was some kind of wiggle room that he could exploit to get the information that he needed.

Sitting up in the bed, he picked up the photograph once again. There was something oddly familiar about the woman in it, something about her appearance, her face and eyes and the integrity they held for her face. It was as though he had seen someone like her before, or something about her. Whatever it was, he knew that he would have to explore that avenue later when he was not so deep undercover. Still, it would linger in the back of his mind. Who was she exactly? Only one person could answer that for him, and he felt that it was finally time to call in that favor. He took that back. Two people could answer that question, but one would have the facts all lined up in a neat little row. In other words, he felt it would be better to contact Eric.

He rose to his feet, glancing about the motel room. Everything had seemed clean, and a bug placed behind the mattress of the bed had done well in killing the signal for any other bugs that might have been planted in the room. While he doubted there were any of those to worry about, safety was always the top priority. It was easier to avoid the complications than to have to handle them when the struck hard at the heart of the problems. Taking out his phone, he snapped a picture of the photograph, being careful to center on the woman before sending the message to Eric requesting information and a meeting at a local bar. A public place, it would be easier to exchange information while he would be able to see everyone around him. That was a situation he would much rather partake in.

A knock on the door to his room brought him to his senses once again, and he turned to face it. Taking a breath, he crossed the small space and peered into the peephole. The dark blond hair and the Asian features made it clear who it was, and Callen felt himself mutter a silent curse. Kudoh was the last person he wanted to run into, especially after having left the man only a few hours before. He found himself questioning what the man would want from him now as he unlocked the door and pulled it open, inviting the man inside.

"For a moment I thought you weren't in here, Meyers." The man gave a smile as he stepped inside the room, tossing a bag down on the bed. "I figured I'd come and let you know that I'm making this job easy on you. That woman is going to be at a warehouse in three days. I thought you might appreciate the efforts I have given to making this task easier to accomplish."

Callen watched as the man emptied the contents of the bag, and he stifled a frown. The bag contained all the items that could be used to capture someone, from zip ties and duct tape to a metal case that contained what looked like a needle, syringe, and a vial of some kind of drug. He felt his heart beat faster as he weighed the options, trying to get a grasp on what he might have to do in order to maintain the cover. Seeing Kudoh pick up the metal case, the man held it in front of him, a villainous look in his dark eyes.

"This will be your best friend." His accented voice was clearer than it had been before, and Callen knew that the man was deadly serious about the capture of this woman. "One injection, and she will be unconscious for six hours. Makes it less difficult to get control her. A gift from Aiko."

Callen took the case from the man's hand, his eyes scanning it carefully. Maybe there could be a way around this incident, something that he could do to make both parties equally satisfied, at least temporarily. Once he spoke with Eric, he was certain he could come up with a game plan that would appease Kudoh and keep the FBI agent safe, at least for the moment. There was no guarantee what Kudoh might do if he failed to do as commanded.

"Tell her I said thanks. It'll help me out." He put the case on the edge of the bed before picking up a few of the other items. Kudoh was prepared, very well prepared. Callen could almost feel a thread of fear sweep down his spine at the thought of the man's motive behind this command.

"No problem. Hey, I had to keep her off your tail. Just be careful, Meyers. When she gets something in her head, she'll do anything to prove me wrong. Don't fail me and prove her right."

"It's been awhile since I've seen you around here, Deeks."

It felt good to see a friendly face after the quizzical looks they had been given to him during his walk through the bullpen. It had been some time since he had last stepped into major crimes, especially since he had started working more with NCIS than he had in previous years, and things had changed. A new man was in charge of the unit, a man Deeks respected for his hard work and dedication to the force. It was no mistake that the man was sitting in the big chair, handing out commands and taking responsibilities. Well-respected, he was also the kind of man who was willing to work on his debts, paying back the favors that he owed others. And Deeks knew that the man would return the favor from the last assignment. Saving the man's hide definitely meant the man owed him. But, seeing the man still brought a smile to his lips as he stepped inside the office, closing the door behind him.

"Glad to see the smile on your face." Reaching across the desk, he shook the man's hand before he gave the office a quick once around. Certificates lined the walls, the man's name carefully typed across the ivory paper. A bookcase rested against the wall off to the side of the desk, lined with books and photographs of the family. He gave one family portrait a lingering look. He knew the man was married with a son. Deeks remembered having dinner with them a few times in between cases, and the kid had taken quite a liking to him. Probably because he was still a kid at heart. Taking the offered seat, he kept his smile for a moment longer.

"How's the family?" Small talk. He needed the bit of chatting before the gravity of the situation at hand took over once again. It had been tense when the FBI liaison had explained the assignment. He could use some relief from that.

"They're good. Ty's been busy with little league, and Leslie's been preoccupied in D.C. She should be home soon enough though. Maybe we could all grab dinner, like the old days, unless NCIS has changed you up." There was a wink before the man leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. Deeks immediately noticed the high school ring the man always wore as a reminder of his football days, even though he had played in college too. According to him, football was the reason he and his wife had met and married. A true love story if there ever was one. "But in all seriousness, Deeks, you said this meeting was highly important. What's going on?"

Always straight to the point. Scott McPherson never truly beat around the bush, even though Deeks was certain the man wanted to. Tall and muscular, he was the epitome of a football player. He even talked about the "good old days" when he had been a successful quarterback, his wife, a cheerleader back in high school, by his side. If one got him going, McPherson could tell stories of football victories and blunders, the good times with the bad, every win and every loss, and how he had brought the team to the playoffs during his senior year – a final victory before graduation. But now was not the time to bring that up. He had a very important reason for being there, for calling him up and asking for some assistance. It all had to do with the FBI agent and the case she had brought to the forefront.

"You've heard about the recent deaths, the ones that are of military personnel?" McPherson gave a nod, but remained silent. Only a motion of his hand indicated that he would wait until Deeks finished before offering any kind of commentary. "We've been asked by the FBI to find out if you have any information on these deaths or any linked to the Yakuza." His tone was serious, to the point, and direct. The nonchalance was not there, not this time. The mission at hand was far too important.

"You know, Deeks, we get a number of gang-related cases every day, so much so that they all tend to blur together. We work hard to keep them separated and keep the details spot on in order to not confuse them, but even we make mistakes." McPherson pulled up into desk and starting typing on the computer, his dark eyes watching the screen intently even as he continued to speak. "This is homicide, and any deaths deemed suspicious are my specialty. Though I do have a case that caught my attention from a few days ago. It might be what you're looking for."

McPherson turned the computer monitor so that Deeks could see the images that were brought up on the screen. A young man, probably in his early twenties, was the center of each image, his face pale and appearing cold. He was dressed in a simple tee shirt and jeans with a jacket and plain tennis shoes, but what caught his eye was the red stain that had blossomed across his chest. The wound pattern seemed familiar, almost eerily so as he shifted blue eyes back up toward the other, his lips set in a frown.

"He's the most recent victim. Single gunshot wound to the chest. Clean strike. Reminds me of a hired hit." Deeks was already thinking the same thing as he looked over the pictures once again. Everything Monahan had said that morning played back in his head – Aiko Takashi, former Marine sniper. She was deadly and cold, at least that was what Monahan had insinuated. The Japanese woman's look only exemplified the notion. Clenching his jaw, he glanced back at his friend as the man spoke once more. "The name's Geoffrey Thompson, a local wannabe thug. He's been arrested a few times on drug possession charges, usually with the intent to sell. In and out of prison since he was seventeen. Most recent stint was over a year ago. He was on parole when he got shot."

"Any way I can get a last known address?" But McPherson was already writing something down on a piece of paper and moving it across the desk.

"One step ahead of you. Bad part of town, I'd be careful. They don't like cops." Deeks let out a slight snort of a chuckle as he grabbed the slip of paper.

"When do they ever like cops down there?" The chuckle was shared as they both stood up. It was a way to lighten the mood just a bit, cutting through the seriousness that was placed on the situation. Deeks had learned from him that you had to smile once in awhile, even in the face of through the gravity of any given situation. It was a way for one to remember that something good would come out of whatever it was that was happening. In this case, Deeks was hoping to bring down this Yakuza cell and end any hostility that was present. It would undoubtedly take time, but it was necessary. That was what he had to tell himself.

"You got a point there." McPherson offered his hand once more, and Deeks took it, giving it a firm shake. "Next time I'll tell you about my team reaching victory against Madison. That was a hell of a game." His smile reached his eyes. This was a man who took his job seriously, but still understood that one had to remember the good times and what made his life whole. Even if that consisted of old memories and a family. Taking a step back from his seat, he started for the door.

"I look forward to hearing about it."

The bar was crowded for this time in the afternoon, almost filled to the brim with people ordering drinks, eating dinner, and wanting to have a good time. He could easily attribute that to a local college game being aired on the main television screens throughout the bar. He was not certain what game it was, or what team, but it was enough for the throng of people to cheer every time a score was made and argue with the screens with the team failed to score. In a way, he could almost find it amusing, if it was not for the fact that he was here in all seriousness. Someone's life was in danger, someone that likely did not deserve to die by the hands of a member of the Yakuza. He hoped that Eric would have something to offer him, something that he could use to help prevent any harm from coming to the young woman.

Resting back in his seat, he brushed the thoughts aside so that he was focused when Eric did show up. He needed to be able to think about everything that he would need to do in order to prevent the worst from actually coming to pass, but he still felt like he was at a loss as to how to make that happen. He kept asking himself 'what would Meyers truly do?' But he already knew that answer. Given the impression he got from Meyers, the man would do anything Kudoh asked him to do, even if that meant jumping off of the nearest bridge into the cooling waters of the ocean. If the waters were cold, that is. Sighing slightly, his eyes scanned the bar once again, taking in each face before he spotted Eric moving toward the table, the man looking a bit out of place in a bar full of sports fans.

"Sorry I'm late."

Eric seemed almost out of breath as he took a seat in front of Callen, setting the tablet computer down on the tabletop. Already, the picture of the woman he was asked to take the hit out on was on the screen, her blue eyes staring into his own. There was something familiar about this woman, something he felt that he should know, but nothing came to mind. As far as he knew, he had never met her before, had never seen her picture before today, but already there was some semblance of recognition. Shrugging his shoulders, he leaned over the table, closing the distance between himself and Eric in order to keep the conversation just between them…and to minimize the need to raise their voices above the growing noise of the crowd.

"I looked her up, like you had asked." Eric was busy running his finger across the screen, pulling up another picture of the woman in military dress. The colors indicated the Marine Corps, and further glancing of the information told him that she had been trained as a communications officer. It made him wonder what skills, exactly, she would have developed to make her so unique…and so wanted. "Her name is Leslie Monahan, former communications officer with the Marine Corps. She was medically discharged about four years ago, but the condition isn't documented to where I can access it. Currently she's working for the FBI, investigating the dealings of the Yakuza in Hawaii, Washington, D.C., and here in Los Angeles.

"She's our FBI liaison."

Callen straightened in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest. So she was the one who would be working with the group for this assignment. Somehow, he had not expected her to be the liaison. Perhaps he had been anticipating a burly man with an authoritative complex and a know-it-all attitude. Leslie Monahan seemed almost humble, even with her piercing eyes and sharp gaze, something that told him she was a take-charge kind of woman. His lips set into a frown as a glanced around the bar once again before shifting his attention back to Eric.

"And Hetty felt that this wasn't important for me to know." It was a statement, one spoken in a flat tone. He had been up since two a.m. The least he felt Hetty could have done was warn him what was happening with the case. What would have happened if he had run into her without this information? He wondered if the older woman had even considered that.

"If it makes you feel any better, she didn't tell the FBI agent that you're the one undercover, only that the fourth member was on assignment."

No, that did not make him feel any better. There were too many 'what if's' floating around in his head. What if they were to meet in the heat of the mission? What if she assumed that he was Meyers, guilty of the crimes she is pursuing him for? What if she would not listen to him when he tried to explain what was going on? It made for a troublesome task ahead, especially with Kudoh's motives still strong in his mind – to take her in alive. Pressing his lips together, he leaned forward once again, pointing to the picture of Monahan.

"This is a bad idea on Hetty's part, and I want you to tell her that. Kudoh wants this woman in the worst way, and I may not be able to watch out for her and maintain this cover." He traced a line on his neck where he had seen the scar on Kudoh. He could feel his pulse racing just slightly as he lowered his voice even more. "I have a bad feeling about what he wants with her, and I need you to find out what happened between the two of them. He mentioned the scar on his neck, and I'm betting she shot him there. Eric, I'm not sure what Hetty's going to say or think, but given the circumstances, I'm going to be more concerned with protecting Monahan from Kudoh as best as I can."

There was a look on Eric's face that Callen could not completely read, but it gave him the impression that this FBI agent had not exactly told the entire story. It gave Callen the distinct impression that she only divulged what was absolutely necessary in order to work the case and propel it forward. That made him a tad more nervous about the entire situation. Slouching back in his chair, he flagged down a waitress and quickly ordered two burgers and drinks. It never did hurt to maintain the cover in a place like this. After all, he did not know if anyone was watching him.

"She didn't mention anything about a shared history with any of them. I do know that she expressed a dislike for Aiko Takashi." Callen tried to recall all of the information he had on the Japanese woman, which was sporadic at best due to Hetty's 'need to know' basis. The woman was a former marine, and a sniper at that. With her working for the Yakuza, he could draw some of the connections to the dislike. But he was prevented from saying anything further as Eric started speaking again, this time lowering his voice so much that Callen could just barely hear the words. "Nell and I did a little research because we thought it was odd, and we found that both Monahan and Takashi were in Afghanistan at the same time. A mission went wrong, but the details are still sealed. Anyway, what I wanted to say was that they were discharged within six months of each other, Takashi on disorderly conduct and Monahan on medical reasons. Not sure if there is a connection there, but that was all I could find. Nothing on Kudoh so far, but I'll look."

Callen nodded. He had enough to keep him busy in the off time that he had so that he could get everything together. There was something more about this case than just a simple infiltration mission into the Yakuza and ending a drug ring that spanned across the waters. For the moment, however, he knew that he would have to focus on the first task at hand and on preventing Kudoh from getting his hands on this woman.

"You always were good at keeping secrets, Henrietta."

Hetty's dark eyes glanced at the woman sitting across from her, a cup of hot tea resting in his hands. She had offered the tea to Leslie, who had accepted it without question. Cultured and refined, she had come to know the young woman prior to the adoption that had taken place by her parents. Orphaned at a young age, it had been her responsibility to find a home for the child, and a believable story mingled with a strong desire for a child had allowed her to find the right parents in a pair of friends that she had known for many years. The truth, far more complicated that Hetty had been willing to tell, was long and difficult to explain, but the couple had asked very few questions about the adoption process or where the child had come from, of which she had been grateful. In the end, the young woman had been seen as a gift, a blessing if she were to consider that, but she still wished that the circumstances had been utterly different. Those smiles were bittersweet and plagued her mind whenever she thought of them.

But the child, now a woman, had blossomed under the care of those two parents. A top-notch private education, a gift with languages, and the kind of cool observation had become traits Hetty readily associated with the younger woman. It was no small wonder that she was where she was now. Of course, she knew that she had some influence over which branch of the FBI the younger woman would work in and how often she would come into contact with the members of NCIS. However, whatever happened in Washington, D.C. could not necessarily be prevented or created by her. The nation's capitol was a different playing field, but she knew that all she would have to do is give Director Vance a phone call and the pieces would fall into place. But such ties were not what brought the young woman here. No, the comment set the mood of the conversation, gave Hetty the reason why Leslie was sitting across from her.

"Everyone has secrets, Miss Monahan."

Her remark was rewarded with a soft chuckle before Leslie took a sip of the tea. This was a young woman she knew all too well, almost like they shared a familial connection. A light smile crossed the other's face as her blue eyes, so deep but very bright, stood out when Leslie looked at her. Always neatly groomed and dressed, Hetty could tell that she grew up in a good home, a happy home if the small laugh was any indication that even in the midst of the most severe cases, one had to sometimes smile in order to get through it.

"Very true, Henrietta. I just wonder about yours." There was a light serious note in her tone of voice as she set the teacup and saucer down on Hetty's desk. She always knew that the young woman could solve puzzles, even if the puzzle was not meant to be solved. Folding her hands in her lap, Leslie sat back in her seat, watching Hetty in silence for a moment before speaking again. "Something tells me that you're hiding something very important, and you know that I hate secrets." A temporary silence fell between them as the words sank in. Hetty knew that the young woman disliked secrets; she always had. But some secrets were best kept as just that – secrets. She had to understand that.

"I know, Miss Monahan." There was a shake of the young woman's head.

"I find it questionable when you specifically asked me to partake in this case, even thought I'm not the only FBI agent working it. You covered the cost of the red-eye flight at the very last minute. I can put two and two together, but I still feel that something is mission. What aren't you tell me, Henrietta?"

So much. As unrefined as the two words were, that was the only answer that she could think of. There was so much that this woman did not know, so much that Hetty was not certain should be told, but there was still hesitation on her part. It was something very few people ever saw about her, but the situation was a delicate one. Already, she had witnessed the changes in the dynamics among those involved, and deep down she wondered if it would be worth more upset.

"I received a telephone call yesterday, just before yours." The tone was distinctly serious now, causing Hetty's smile to disappear from her lips. Those blue eyes were watching her closely as the young woman straightened her posture, her arms folding neatly across her chest. "I will not ask you to tell me your secrets, Henrietta, but when someone calls me to speak of something you have done, I grow curious. Especially when this man claims to be my father and further claims that I have a family I have never met. Now, as far as I know, I have no siblings and my parents live right here in Los Angeles." She gave a pause, her eyes staring deeply into Hetty's. "What was he referring to, Henrietta? What is it that you're not telling me."