Brotherhood

Chapter 7

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A thin layer of mist floated just above the water, disturbed only by their passing, closing in behind them in wispy swirls matching Deeks turbulent thoughts. The sun had finally breached the horizon, suffusing the bayou with a warm yellow glow, and highlighting the ripples spreading out from the bow. Wooden docks reached out from the foggy banks, suggesting they were not as alone as he felt. Occasionally a barking dog would appear or a fisherman raising a hand in salute, but the drone of the motor was the constant as they traveled on into their second hour. They had loaded the narrow, old green boat in the dark, the metal cold to the touch as they found their places, Roy at the throttle, Callen in the middle and him in the bow, his back wedged against his backpack. No one said much except for a question or two once in awhile. Deeks had expected the land along the bayou to be sparsely populated, so he was surprised at the many houses they passed, some large old places like Oak Haven, some reminding him of the big houses back home, but most were simple, one- or two-story houses surrounded by farmland. They were passing through one of the small towns along the way when Roy gave them a heads up that they were close to the rendezvous point with Homer Moreau, the man who was going to introduce them to Antoine Guidry and The Patriotic Brotherhood.

"Time to drop into your aliases, boys," Roy said in a low voice. "Homer thinks he knows me real well, but he don't. I'll be playin' the good old boy I show to most of the local folks. Same name though."

"What do they think you do for a living?" Callen asked, as Roy throttled back, reducing his speed as the dock came into view up ahead.

"Most think I got family money, but others have the idea that I don't shy away from a shady deal here and there."

"What about Homer? Why do you trust him?" Deeks asked as he pulled his gray gimme cap down over his eyes.

"Did a favor awhile back for an old Navy buddy over in Lafayette. He's a detective there and needed someone to go undercover for a case he'd been workin'," Roy said quietly. "Some Texas boys had it in mind to start a drug ring in the area. Caused some trouble, got some men killed including one of Homer's friends. Homer decided he wanted revenge and went after the guys still standin'. I stopped him and got him outa there before he got himself into something he couldn't get out of."

"Did he know you were working for the cops?" Deeks asked.

"Nope."

"Does he think you approve of The Brotherhood?"

"No, we both agree they're bad news," Roy replied. "But I told 'im I met a couple of fellas lookin' to join up and had offered cash for an introduction. Told 'im there was money in it for him too."

"Dammit, Roy...don't you think that might be a red flag for Guidry?" Deeks asked, instantly pissed.

"Calm down kid. He ain't never gonna find out," Roy drawled out with a smile. "Homer knows if he tells his brother or Guidry he's a dead man."

"Thought you said he was honest?" Callen breathed out.

"Didn't say he don't like to make a buck or two," Roy said, grinning as he waved at a skinny guy in a red tank top and khaki cargo shorts standing on the end of the dock. "And boys...if ya get into a fight with any of them nutjobs, make it a street fight. Don't do nothin' fancy or show off any formal training, otherwise you're fucked."

The boat coasted up to the dock and Homer grabbed the line thrown to him and tied it off, shyly looking Jake and Jimmy over as he conversed with Roy in Cajun. The man had a tattoo just under his collarbone that said something in French, and a coiled snake on the side of his neck that was mostly covered by his stringy brown hair. He was deeply tanned and Deeks noticed a missing tooth when he grinned at something Roy said.

"Homer, meet Jake Hale and his brother Jimmy," Roy said.

"Got my money?"

"Nice to meet you, too," Jake said easily. "Pay the man, Jimmy."

Deeks scrounged in his backpack without taking his eyes off the man, finally handing over two hundred dollars in well-worn bills. They all waited as he slowly counted the money and Deeks could see the anger Callen's alias was stoking.

"Your brother an asshole too?" Jake Hale asked, fully into character, his voice low and mean.

"Don't know either one of you fuckers," Homer said quietly, but there was anger in his tone. "Stow your gear in the truck over there. Henry ain't gonna wait long."

The man shoved the bills in the front pocket of his jeans, raised his chin to Roy and walked off the dock. Deeks turned to pick up the gear and caught Roy watching him. He was a tough man to read, but he thought there was a hint of concern in his eyes, and that surprised him. There was a warning there as well that added to the familiar churning in his stomach at the beginning of any undercover assignment.

"Watch yourself, Jimmy," he whispered as he brushed past him to untie the boat. "Might want to activate your comms now. Don't want Sam to kick my ass when I get back. That man takes overwatch seriously. He put so much tracking spray on y'all you won't be able to sneak off for some alone time with your girlfriend for at least ten years."

"Thanks, man," Deeks said, laughing softly. "For all of it."

"I'll have gumbo waitin' when ya get back," he said.

"Do I want to know what's in gumbo?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Where's your sense of adventure, kid?" Roy asked with a fading grin. "Just get back safe and find out."

Deeks nodded, wondering how the two of them had formed an attachment when all they did was snipe at each other. It was there though, and he flashed the man a cocky grin as he hefted his backpack and the duffle full of guns. Putting on the face of Jimmy Hale, he turned and walked away, listening for the start of the engine and the departure of their last connection to the sane world, if what they did was sane. His brother Jake was already in the shotgun seat, his face a mask of cold boredom, so he threw their stuff in the back and climbed in after it. With his back against the cab he stared out at the bayou as Homer drove up to the road, watching Roy until the long green boat disappeared around a bend.

The sun beat down on him and he began to sweat in the growing heat and humidity, finally shedding his khaki jacket, leaving him in a black t-shirt he'd cut the sleeves off of. He'd argued with Sam at breakfast about re-bandaging his arm, and he'd finally given in, but the closer they got to the meet with Henry Moreau the more it felt wrong to have it on. It was too clean and too tidy. He figured an infection would be the least of his worries at this point, so he gingerly unwrapped it, sucking in his breath as the tender wound was exposed to the wind whipping past. The visible wound made him feel slightly vulnerable and that was unsettling, considering who they were about to meet.

He and Callen had talked deep into the night about their aliases, reading through the backstories Eric and Nell had set up for them, getting used to who they now had to be. Before they'd left Ops, it had been decided that Jake and Jimmy were on the run, but Callen felt uncomfortable with that scenario now that they were here, figuring Guidry wouldn't want to take on a couple of known fugitives. Hetty had agreed and Eric had modified their backstopping, taking out the BOLO on the Hales and adding their association with the militia group known as the Aryan Knights of America. Deeks had gone silent when Callen had suggested it. Whenever he thought about that undercover assignment the same feeling of desperation returned, a feeling that still occasionally haunted his nightmares. He knew their knowledge and experience with that group of disturbed hatemongers was a perfect fit for Jake and Jimmy Hale, but he had no desire to drag up all that pain or the unsettling fear that came with it. That militia leader had tried to break him down with grievous lies and terrifying violence to back them up and he'd come frightening close to succeeding. Callen understood his reluctance, having helped him get through it all and the later repercussions, and had repeatedly asked if it would be okay to use it for their legend. It was a tough decision, but desperate to find Joe, he had finally assented. He found some comfort in knowing he wasn't the same man he'd been back then. He was stronger, with a hell of a lot more experience, and a very personal reason for being here. These men had taken his brother, and as hard as it would be if Guidry questioned him about the Aryan Knights, he would spin it any way he needed to if it would help him find out what happened to Joe.

The two lane road they were on cut through clusters of houses, freshly tilled fields and growing crops, and industrial buildings having to do with the oil business or farming. He could see vast stretches of open space, some covered in dense forest as habitation grew sparse. He grinned when he saw a sign for a Jambalaya Street, but tensed as he felt the truck decelerate. They crossed over a bayou and immediately turned right and then onto a gravel track that led though a grove of trees to a couple of large metal buildings that looked abandoned. Homer stopped the truck and slowly got out and then let out a piercing whistle.

"Get on out now. Henry will come fetch ya," Homer said, waiting impatiently as they did as they were told.

When Deeks dropped their gear next to Callen's feet, Homer nodded and got back in his truck and drove around them and back out to the road, leaving them completely alone. They looked at each other and Deeks could see the subtle shift in Callen's demeanor, knowing he was still playing Jake Hale in case they might be overheard and Deeks followed his lead.

"Skittish shithead," Jimmy said, spitting into the sparse weeds around them.

"Ain't surprised. Come on. I don't like bein' in the open like this," Jake replied and picked up his backpack and walked toward the largest building.

The rusted yellow sign on the corrugated siding was riddled with bullet holes, and they couldn't quite make out the name, but it had something to do with an oil company. A heavy chain held the two sagging metal doors together, but there was no lock, so Jake slid the chain off and pushed one door open enough for them to get in. It was hot and stuffy inside, the air dusty and still. The roof was missing several pieces of corrugated, letting in wide shafts of light that highlighted stacks of rusted oil drums, farm equipment and old machinery draped in cobwebs and kudzu that had grown through a broken window. The cracked concrete floor sprouted weeds and was stained with oil and littered with broken bottles and crushed beer cans.

"Y'all lookin' for somethin'?"

They flinched at the sound of the man's voice, stopping as he walked from behind a stack of oil drums holding an AR-15.

"Lookin' for Henry," Jake said easily. "His brother Homer dropped us off."

The scape of boots on concrete came from all four corners of the building and Jake and Jimmy dropped their gear, warily watching as a big man with a shaved head stepped out of the pale shadows and flicked a cigarette in their direction. Jimmy heard movement behind him and shot a quick look at Jake before turning to face two men who were bigger than Sam.

"Is that all of you? Or you gonna keep playing hide and seek like little kids?" Jake snarled coolly.

Three more men appeared from behind a couple of old tractors, all armed and not the least bit friendly looking.

"They ain't very pretty are they Jake?" Jimmy snorted out a laugh.

"Watch your mouth, brother," Jake warned. "These men are patriots fighting for their rights as Americans."

"Which one of you is Henry Moreau?" Jimmy asked, looking chastised as he turned back to face the first man.

"Who the fuck wants to know?" The man spit out.

"I'm Jimmy Hale and this is my big brother Jake," he replied with a cocky grin. "Your brother said..."

"My brother talks out of his ass," Henry Moreau growled. "You armed?"

"Course we are," Jake said coldly.

They were quickly patted down and their guns taken as were their backpacks and the duffle bag, but they had expected that.

"We heard good things about The Brotherhood. You got a good reputation and the balls to do what needs doin'," Jake said, taking a few steps toward Henry, reaching out to shake his hand. "We just want to be a part of it."

Henry ignored the gesture as the circle of men closed in around them. Jimmy felt an itch to reach for his gun, but decided that would probably be an incredibly stupid move considering how badly outnumbered they were.

"Who told ya about The Brotherhood?" The man with the shaved head asked as he walked up to stand in front of Jimmy.

"Read some things on the deep web," Jake answered. "And talked to a friend from the Aryan Knights out in California. Said you might be recruiting."

"Who told you that?" Henry asked.

"We don't give out the names of our friends," Jake replied warily. "You're either recruiting or you're not. Which is it?"

"Was you a part of what Jacob Werner had going on out there in California?" Henry asked.

"His name was Meier, asshole," Jimmy barked. "And he woulda changed this country if he hadn't been sold out by an undercover federal agent."

"Take it easy Jimmy," Jake said softly, gripping his shoulder with concern. "Jacob was like a father to 'im."

Callen let his alias briefly slip and Deeks read it for what it was, a clear warning not to lose his focus or let his memories overshadow what they were doing.

"How come y'all weren't picked up by the Feds after they took out Brother Meier " Shaved head asked, his eyes boring into Jimmy.

"You ask a helluva lot of questions," Jake said coldly. "Mind tellin' us what the fuck your name is, or should I just call you asshole?"

"Name's Tino," he replied. "Call me an asshole again and I'll break your nose. Now, tell us why you ain't in Federal lockup."

"We were part of his brother Karl's sniper unit on our way into LA when the Feds hit," Jimmy answered softly. "During the firefight, Karl didn't even fire a shot, just took off runnin'...the fuckin' bastard. Jake got shot up pretty bad, but we managed to get away. Wanted to live to fight another day."

"I met Karl," a man behind him said. "He was a bastard."

"You boys on the run?" Henry finally asked.

"Nobody's got nothin' on us," Jake said. "We been checking out groups across the country trying to find a place where we can help this country get back to where it belongs. Like I said...The Brotherhood has the best rep."

"Then who the hell shot you?" Tino asked, grabbing Jimmy's wounded arm in a vise-like grip.

He nearly bit through his bottom lip trying not to scream, but his knees buckled with dizzying pain. He saw Jake move to help him, but he knew he had to stand up for himself or they would think he was weak. He reacted as he had as a teenager, when he and Ray would get into fights, pushing back as he swung his right forearm up hard and fast, smashing his elbow into Tino's upper lip. He heard the man grunt as blood gushed from his nose, but he had no time to enjoy it as he was grabbed from behind and wrestled to the ground. The kicks were hard and effective, cracking his already bruised ribs and taking his air, leaving him sprawled on the floor struggling to breathe. Dragged up to his knees, he searched for Jake, cursing loudly when he saw him lying unconscious on the dirty concrete with blood seeping from a cut on his head, and his hands being tied behind his back. He'd been holding in his anger since he'd seen Kensi disappear in a cloud of dust and fire, and it had continued to build when he found out Joe was missing and possibly dead. Now Callen was down. Three men were holding him, but his anger finally exploded and he began screaming curses, letting out all of his rage and frustration as he fought to get to his feet. Tino backhanded him, but he just laughed and spewed blood in his face, as he called him every insulting name he could think of. Someone behind him got him in a chokehold, effectively silencing his taunts and he finally slumped back to his knees.

"Tell me who shot you, you crazy fuck or I'll put a bullet in your big brother," Tino said, wiping blood from his nose with the back of his hand.

"Cops," he choked out.

"So y'all are wanted," Henry growled.

"No..."

"Why not?" Tino said, yanking him up in front of him.

"Cause we killed 'em both," he whispered. "No witnesses, man...no witnesses."

Tino dropped him back to his knees and the others shoved him to the floor and pulled his hands behind his back, tying them tightly with heavy twine. He could hear Henry and a couple of others arguing about what to do with them and he closed his eyes, suddenly worried he had failed. When he heard Sam's strong voice in his ear, he let out a shaky breath, forgetting his comm was on and that Sam had heard everything.

"You did good, Deeks," Sam said calmly. "I know how hard it was for you to talk about Jacob and Karl, but it was the truth and they heard that in your voice. I'll have Eric search for an unsolved killing of two cops and let you know the details."

He wanted nothing more than to respond, but couldn't risk even a whisper, so he laughed softly and swore to show he understood.

"What's so funny, smart ass?" Tino asked, pressing his boot into his shoulder and shoving him over onto his back.

"Shoulda known all that stuff people said about The Brotherhood was bullshit," he said, spitting out a gob of blood. "Our ancestor was Nathan Hale. He died fighting against tyranny. That's what folks said you were doing. Guess they were wrong."

"Gag and blindfold 'im, boys," Tino ordered. "We're headin' out."

The two big guys grabbed him and hauled him to his feet, and he saw Callen on his feet being gagged, but before he was blindfolded he saw certainty in his eyes and a calmness that gave him hope. His gag tasted of sweat and the blindfold was tied too tightly, cutting into the bruising around his eyes, but he didn't care, because he was pretty sure they were in. If they weren't these guys would just shoot them and leave their bodies for someone to find.

"I don't like you, kid," Tino said next to his ear. "But Guidry wants to meet you, so you're gonna live a tad longer. And just so you know. We are fightin' and plannin' something big that'll leave this pathetic government shakin' in its boots. Now move your sorry ass."

Shoved into the arms of a couple of men, he was dragged outside and into the hot sun.

"I'm still with you both," Sam said softly in his ear.

"Me too," Roy said in his distinctive drawl. "Workin' on my gumbo recipe for y'all, so don't do anything stupid. Shit...forgot you was tied up and gagged. That oughta keep ya out of trouble for a little while."

It's hard to laugh with a gag in your mouth, but he appreciated the kidding and would never be able to express how much it meant to hear their voices. Stumbling along blindfolded and unable to talk was disorienting and he fought the hint of fear stirring in his gut. Without those two men in his ear he might have given in to that fear, but their encouragement kept him hopeful. Joe had probably gone through the same thing when he'd gone undercover here, and that sharpened his mind and helped him focus. The men on either side of him kept silent until he smelled the water and heard the sound of feet on a wooden dock and the sudden roar of an outboard motor.

"Watch your step here," the man on his left said, not unkindly, as he led him onto the dock. "The boat's right in front of you, so take a long step over and down."

Callused hands grabbed him as he stumbled into the flat-bottomed boat. Before he could get his bearing, his feet were kicked out from under him and he was slammed facedown next to who he assumed was Callen. A heavy tarp smelling of fish was thrown over them both and the motor caught, sending vibrations along his body as they pulled away from the dock. He tried to get in a more comfortable position that might ease the pain from his cracked ribs, but it only got him a solid warning kick and an order to stay still.

Time passed slowly as the journey lengthened, and the heat became stifling and close to unbearable under the tarp. Sweat dripped down his cheeks and neck, soaking the gag and working its way under the blindfold, stinging his eyes. The movement of the boat and the constant drone of the motor lulled him toward sleep and he finally passed out, waking when they slowed and the men began to call out to someone in Cajun. When the tarp was pulled off, he was yanked to his feet and dragged over the side of the boat into knee-deep water before he was dumped onto solid ground. He felt Callen dropped beside him and heard him groan softly, and he worried he might be seriously hurt. He heard men walk past him, but he couldn't understand what they were saying and his mind drifted. Finally there was silence, and he sensed they were alone, but couldn't be sure.

"Moan or something so I know you're still alive," Sam all but shouted into his ear.

He heard Callen move and turned his head towards him and they both moaned at the same time, getting a soft thank you from their concerned partner. Callen sounded as if he was in pain and he wondered just how hard they had hit him. Dammit. He wished he could see him, needing to hear his voice, even if it was to chastise him for antagonizing Tino. He reminded himself how tough the man was, so he took comfort in that and the touch of his foot against his, tapping gently over and over until he realized it was Morse code and that he was asking if he was okay. He quickly tapped back that he was good and asked how he was. "Pissed", came the tapped response. "You?" "Same." "Be good", Callen tapped out a little harder than before. "You heard?" A hard tapped "yes" made him smile that he'd found a way to show his anger over his violent run-in with Tino. "Want them to know I'm tough", Deeks tapped firmly. "I want you alive, brother," he tapped back gently. "Okay, old man." "Wise ass."

He drifted in and out of consciousness from the heat and increasing pain in his ribs as the day passed, occasionally tapping out some curses and insulting names for their captors just to pass the time and let off steam. Maybe they were just going to let them die of heat stroke, which wasn't too far fetched if they didn't get some water soon. But still, no one came and he simply had to endure the flashes of pain and the numbness of his hands and bites from insects that seemed quite fond of his arms and the back of his neck. Not being able to scratch was driving him crazy, and he would occasionally try to shake them off like his old friend Monty, but after awhile it hurt too much and he gave up.

Callen woke him with a kick in the ankle, and he raised his head, smelling the cooling air around him.

"Catch me them boys, mes amis," a gravelly voice shouted from somewhere above them.

He was almost past the point of caring when the men came to drag them up a low slope, dropping them in the dust once again. When he was yanked up on his knees, he failed to stop a low groan and he heard someone comment and the others laughed. There were a lot of voices. Rapid, unintelligible Cajun flew back and forth, the gravelly voice loud and angry and final sounding. Then the gag was untied and he spit out the foul remains of the smelly rag. He heard the soft whine of a dog and sensed a presence and then a hand on his injured arm, and he tensed in anticipation of more pain as a thumb brushed across the still tender gunshot wound.

"You make the miserie, huh boy?" the man with the gravelly voice asked and then slapped him lightly on his bruised ribs. "Fool with them cops and paid the price. But you shoot 'em dead, yeah?"

"Yes sir, we did," Jimmy said with pride.

The man clapped him on the cheek and then said something in Cajun and his blindfold was undone. He squinted in the sudden light, even though the sun was low, and stared into the face of a killer. Guidry was big and ugly, with large ears and course skin. His eyebrows were heavy and black as was his long, slicked back hair tucked behind his ears. His beard was sparse and untrimmed, and a scraggly mustache framed large pale lips. Intense hazel eyes looked back at him, cunning and intelligent.

"You and yore brother like rougarouin, doncha boy?" He asked, and laughed when he saw that he didn't understand. "Means causin' trouble."

"Them cops had no reason to come at us," he replied. "Had to defend our rights."

"So ya don't mind killin' ta do dat?" he asked, scrutinizing him carefully.

"No sir."

"Don't lie ta me, boy, ya hear," he said, his eyes darkening as he grabbed his jaw in a powerful grip. "Don't like liars. I sic my dogs on liars."

Deeks closed his eyes and fought to control his emotions, afraid his own eyes would betray the hatred he was feeling. The man shoved him back and moved over in front of Jake, pulling the gag from his mouth.

"You a liar, big brother?"

"Depends on who's askin'," Jake said, his voice rough and low.

The slap was hard and he stumbled, but righted himself defiantly.

"I am Antoine Guidry and ya best not disrespect me, or I'll kick the shit outa your little brother. Understand me, boy?"

"Got it."

"Tino said you was shot up when them Feds took down The Aryan Knights," he said. "That right, Jake?"

"Yeah."

Guidry grabbed the front of Jake's shirt with both hands and ripped it open, and Jake smirked as if he knew what he was looking for.

"Old bullet holes convincin' enough?" He growled.

Guidry yanked off his blindfold and stared at him and then took a step back, his eyes narrowing.

"Coo-wee. Now tell me how in hell ya survived that?" Guidry asked, his suspicion obvious. "Cause if ya went to a hospital the Feds woulda found ya. Why didn't they?"

"Jimmy got me to an old friend who runs a clinic in East LA," he said, looking over at his brother. "She patched me up and hid us both until the smoke cleared."

"Call 'er," Guidry ordered, surprising them both.

"You think I'm lyin'?" Jake challenged.

"Y'all better hope you're not...now call her," he said with a nasty smile. "Otherwise..."

At Guidry's nod, Henry slammed the butt of his rifle down between Jimmy's shoulder blades, knocking him to the ground.

"Okay, okay," Jake shouted.

"Bring 'im the satphone," Guidry ordered.

Jimmy barely heard Sam's reassurance in his ear, but he knew it would be Hetty Jake called and that she would be prepared for the phone call. When it went through, Guidry grabbed the phone as soon as Jake said his name.

"Who dis?" Guidry spat out.

"Tell me who you are first," Hetty replied calmly and Deeks was thankful Sam had patched him through to listen. "I know Jake Hale, but I don't know you. For all I know you're a Federal Agent and I don't talk to Federal Agents unless forced to do so. Do you have Jake and Jimmy in custody?"

"Ya think I'm a Fed?" Guidry sounded astonished.

"One can never be too careful in our line of work," she replied politely. "Now tell me your name or this conversation is over."

"I ain't no Fed, lady," he snarled. "I'm Antoine Guidry."

"Of course," Hetty replied warmly. "I've heard of you. You head up La Fraternité Patriotique. I'm very proud to meet you Mr. Guidry. Jake and his brother have wanted to meet you for some time."

"Best tell me who ya are or little Jimmy's gonna get his ass kicked some more, ya hear?"

"I'm Sylvia Martin, an old friend of the Hale family," she replied.

"Jake claims you're a doctor?"

"A surgeon to be exact, Mr. Guidry," she said proudly. "And I offer my services to any man or organization like yours, working to make this a country we can be proud of again."

"Not sure I believe these here boys," he blustered.

"Those two almost died fighting for what was right," she said. "You should be proud to have them. They will fight for their brothers in arms without hesitation. Liberté de l'Oppression, Mr. Guidry."

Guidry remained silent for some time before lowering the satphone, his eyes darting from Jake to Jimmy who had managed to get up on his knees. Deeks closed his eyes and dropped his head, unsure how much longer either one of them had to live. Sneaking a look at Callen, he could see he wasn't sure which way this would go either, his eyes turbulent with emotion and a hint of regret. If he had to die today he was honored it would be with his brother by his side.

"Love ya, brother," Deeks said in a broken voice.

Callen's eyes filled with sudden tears and then he smiled and nodded.

Guidry tossed the satphone to Tino and stood staring at them as a couple of large dogs milled around. Henry was smiling smugly as he came to stand in front of them, his weapon at the ready. Callen and Deeks simply ignored them, keeping their eyes on one another as they awaited their fate.

"Cut 'em loose, mes amis," Guidry ordered and turned and walked away.

...

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