Brotherhood

Chapter 9

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A stream of clouds slowly scudded across the moon, darkening the landscape and the white facade in the distance, but he could still see the long line of oaks that distinguished the old place. Elan blew out his breath and tried to loosen the tension that still held his muscles in knots, but he was certain that wouldn't happen until he got some good news about his cousin. The shock of getting the news that Joe was missing when he was so far away in Normandy had left him somber and silent until he saw how it had affected his son. He should never have told him. Soldier had finally taken to having a solid, loving family, one he could count on, one that would care for him and never hurt him, and so the news of his Uncle Joe just disappearing had stunned and confused him. The confusion had hardened into distrust before Elan had realized what was happening. Their confrontation had been rough on both of them. He could find no words that would convince the boy that they would find Joe and bring him home, and Soldier angrily challenged him on that and he found he couldn't argue with the kid's logic. He never lied to his son and that's exactly what Soldier accused him of doing. They were both angry and it was only Luc's calm observation that all their yelling was upsetting the horses that had ended their shouting match. Luc Caron, an expat close to ninety, had formed a deep bond with Soldier and the old man had simply pulled the boy into a hug and asked if he trusted his father. Soldier had looked up at him with those wide dark eyes and nodded, and it broke him.

He couldn't contemplate a life without Joe. They had been close since the day they'd met. He had been the same age as Soldier was now, a lonely, very angry and sullen kid unsure of what life held in store for him. It was at a time when he hadn't fully adjusted to living with his Uncle Jim. Joe was just the opposite, a bright-faced boy with an easy laugh and so much enthusiasm for everything in life that Elan thought there was something wrong with him. He'd told his uncle he thought Joe was off in the head and had been surprised at the loud huff of laughter that had followed. Joe's older brother Christopher had challenged the two of them to a horserace that day and it had been the beginning of their lifelong friendship. Joe had taken him aside and pointed out all the ways they could beat his brother if they worked together. He'd said cousins had to stick together, ignoring the fact that Christopher was his cousin too. They had joined forces and he had won the race and Joe had whooped with joy, excited for him. He'd never met anyone like him and still hadn't. Losing him would shake him to the depth of his being and he was here to make sure that didn't happen, if he could.

The air felt thick, the humidity irritating at this early hour of the morning, but that had been a part of his mood since hearing about Joe. He hadn't slept for at least thirty-six hours, unable to sleep on either flight as he usually did, and exhaustion was wearing him down. He should have stayed in New Orleans for the night, but had wanted to get to Thibodaux as soon as he could, needing to hear any news whoever was there might have. Hetty had been tightlipped over the phone and that had him worried, giving him only the address, a brief description and that he was expected. He guessed the rest, at least most of it, knowing Deeks and Callen wouldn't let anyone stop them from trying to find Joe. Sam might or might not be inside, but he couldn't assume that. The fact that he was heading for a old plantation in some obscure town on a bayou in the middle of Louisiana, was clue enough that they weren't on their own. Hetty wouldn't confirm that, but she didn't have to. These people were a tight knit team and looked out for one another and might as well be family.

He was tired as hell, but his senses were still heightened as if on patrol, so the beat up SUV and car parked off the road under a couple of oak trees sparked his interest as he slowly drove by. He was only about a hundred yards from the iron gates of the plantation when he saw two armed men standing guard. He didn't stop, simply continued driving up the road until he was certain they couldn't see him, before pulling in at the next driveway and parking up by a barn. The men were most definitely suspect. As cautious as Hetty's team was, and certain the search for Joe was as close to a black op as it could be, he knew they wouldn't telegraph their presence that way. Taking a deep breath, he unzipped the tote bag that had been waiting for him in a locker at the airport and pulled the Glock and an extra mag. He pocketed a few of the zip ties that had made him smile at the subtle hint when he'd first checked the bag, then slipped a dark Ka-bar knife into his boot. He took a small switchblade before exiting the car, and slipped it into the back pocket of his black chinos and the extra mag into the other, pulling his dark blue t-shirt down to hide them. Holding the Glock close to his leg, he moved quietly down the dirt driveway and across the road. As he approached, he heard the two men talking until a couple of muzzle flashes in an upper floor window made them turn their backs to him. He wasted no time, slamming the Glock down hard above the ear of one man before pressing the muzzle between the eyes of the other.

"Don't even blink," Elan Hand said softly. "Drop the weapon. Now."

The man snarled, but instantly dropped his rifle. "Who the fuck are you?"

Elan said something in Arapaho and smashed the man's nose with the gun, then spun him around and shoved him face first into the sturdy iron gate. The man put up little fight after that, groaning and cursing as he tried to stem the flow of blood dribbling down his face.

"How many men you send up to the house?" Elan asked in a rushed whisper. "You lie and I'll come back and shove this gun up your ass."

"Six."

The muted sound of more shots fired angered him and he quickly knocked the man out and zipped tied his hands and feet and crammed his own bandana in his mouth. Doing the same as fast as he could to the other one, he rose and closed his eyes, silently preparing himself before he starting running for the house, his long black hair flying out behind him. The pale moon flickered through the thick limbs and branches of the old oaks on either side as he raced up the edge of the driveway, avoiding the noisy gravel. His heart was pumping wildly by the time he got close to the house, but he stilled his mind, finally slowing and dropping into a crouch when he reached the porch. His hands steadied and his mind focused the anger he felt as he chose his weapon. Securing the Glock, he slid the black knife out of his boot and crept silently forward and inside the partially open front door.

He had no idea who the good guys even were, and it put him at a disadvantage, making him swear softly as he moved toward the dark stairs. The smell of blood hung in the air and he almost stumbled over the dead body on the landing. The way the guy was dressed made him certain he had one less man to worry about and he continued up the stairs.

"You ain't gettin' out a here alive, assholes."

The sudden shout startled him and he pressed himself against the railing, holding his breath and listening intently so he could locate his targets. There was no reply to the voiced threat, but he heard several whispers and then a bearded man in a ball cap slunk out of the double doors above him and crept along the wall to his right. He followed, moving swiftly and silently. The man never made a sound as he covered his mouth and rammed the knife up between his ribs. Lowering him to the floor he pressed his shoulder against the wall and moved back toward the open double doors.

The sudden eruption of automatic weapons fire sent him to the floor and he heard a man cuss loudly as another screamed. A large man rushed out, limping badly and Elan quickly took him down. That left three. He slipped the knife back in his boot and pulled the Glock, easing himself into position against the doorjamb. Peering into the gloom shrouded room, he could just make out the dark forms of two men pointing rifles toward the door to his right. One was behind an overturned table and the other was at the doors to the veranda. He sighted and fired, eliminating the one by the door and then taking a shot at the man who turned toward him to return fire. The doorjamb shattered above him, a splinter cutting into his forehead as he dropped to the floor. Lying prone he fired back, hitting the man in the knee as the door at the end of the room burst open and two men came out firing, riddling the attacker and sending him crashing into the overturned table. When the two men turned their weapons toward him, he threw his gun across the floor and spread his arms wide, offering no reason for them to kill him, at least that was his hope.

"Elan?"

"You know this guy?" A big man with a soft drawl asked as he stood over him.

"This is the guy we were expecting," Sam replied. "Elan Hand. Good man to have on your side."

"You get the sixth guy?" Elan asked, still not moving.

"Yeah...thought Roy here was sleeping," Sam said as he offered him a hand up. "Any more outside?"

"Two. Hog-tied," he replied as Sam pulled him to his feet. "Thought this was a safe house."

"S'posed ta be," Roy said, sounding extremely pissed.

"Think Homer gave us up?" Sam asked as he went over and picked up Elan's weapon and handed it back to him.

"Let's ask the two by the front gate," Elan said, wiping at the blood trickling down the side of his face as he took the Glock.

"So you're the cousin?" Roy asked and Elan nodded. "Hetty said ya were a former Army Ranger. Didn't say ya were a really good one."

"She didn't tell me anything about you," Elan said evenly.

"I'm one of her secrets. Roy Blanchard," he said with a broad smile. "Now let's go find out how in hell these guys come ta be here."

"Heard anything about Joe?" Elan asked Sam, blocking the door until he got some answers.

"Only that he's still alive," Sam replied. "Callen and Deeks confirmed over comms. They're undercover with the militia group Joe infiltrated. Call themselves the Patriotic Brotherhood."

"If these guys are here..." Elan felt out of breath as the thought grabbed him. "Their cover could already be blown."

"Don't go gettin' ahead of yourself, cousin," Roy said warmly, firmly gripping Elan's shoulder. "We got a couple of numb-nuts down by the road I'm pretty damn sure are gonna give up everything they know."

Roy brushed past him and led the way down the stairs, and they all remained silent until they reached the end of the driveway.

"Now y'all ain't been real neighborly tonight," Roy thickened his native drawl as he hauled one of the men to his feet. "So y'all better tell me why ya saw fit ta try an kill me and my friends...or...your mamas' are gonna be wearin' black and wonderin' where the hell your hands and feet got to."

Elan smiled at the terrified look on the man's face as Roy yanked the gag out of his mouth, but then he wasn't sure if Hetty's secret weapon was telling the truth or not. Sam didn't look sure either as he hefted the other man to his feet.

"Y'all do know I got a reputation to uphold, so start talkin' or my Arapaho friend here is gonna start carvin' off body parts."

"How come you know so much about me, and I don't know shit about you?" Elan asked, anger edging into his voice.

"He didn't want you here until Hetty shared your file," Sam explained.

"What file?" Elan asked warily.

"Hetty's always got a file," Roy laughed. "Doncha know she's got her eye on ya, boy?"

Elan growled something in Arapaho, shaking his head as he started walking down the road toward the attackers' cars, his mind now sharp and his anger growing. He ignored Blanchard's entreaties to help with the interrogation, even though he was desperate to find out if Deeks and Callen were in trouble. His mind was a storm of contradictory emotions, as he fought to hold unto some measure of hope while trying to stem the undertone of fear that they were already dead.

The windows of the cars were all down thanks to the heat, and he easily entered and searched the SUV, not even sure what he was looking for. When he found nothing, he walked back to the car and picked up a distinctive stench.

"Got something," he yelled back.

Reaching inside, he popped the trunk and waited for the other two to join him. He led the way toward the rear of the car and took a step back as the faint light in the trunk revealed the bloody body of a man, his hands and feet tied and his tongue cut out.

"Sonofabitch. It's Homer Moreau," Roy whispered.

"He's the one who introduced Deeks and Callen to The Brotherhood," Sam explained.

"You think they've been made?" Elan mumbled shakily, not wanting to hear the answer.

"Not necessarily," Roy said. "Guidry might just be tyin' up loose ends."

"And you're one of them," Sam said. "Guidry's spooked."

"And this place isn't even close to being safe," Elan spit out. "And neither are Deeks and Callen.

"Calm down, Elan. We'll get on comms and tell them what happened and to watch their backs."

"They're surrounded, Sam," Elan exploded. "Can't you just pull 'em out?"

"Let's find out what our two prisoners have ta say before we jump the gun here," Roy counseled. "Then we'll have to figure out what ta do with all the bodies. Getting the cops involved is just gonna make things messy."

Roy headed back toward the entrance gate, but Elan didn't moved, staring sullenly in at the dead man until Sam squeezed his shoulder.

"They cut out the guy's tongue, Sam," he said softly. "What kinda fuck does that?"

"A sick one sending a message," Sam said quietly. "Homer's cousin Henry is part of that group. Wonder if he knows what Guidry had done to his own relative?"

"I don't scare easily, Sam," Elan said as he slammed the trunk closed. "But I am now."

"So was Deeks until he found out Joe had escaped," he replied.

"If that militia group finds out these guys are dead...what does that mean for Marty and Callen?" Elan felt nothing but emptiness at the thought, and picked up on the nervousness that Sam was trying to hide.

"It might have nothing to do with them," Sam reasoned.

"Come on Sam...you know there has to be a connection," Elan said. "If he takes out a guy he knows because of them, he's already suspicious."

"I know you're worried...I am too, but it was their only chance to find out where Joe is or at least where he might be," Sam said. "They couldn't let it go. That's who they are."

"They're my brothers, Sam. Including Callen. If that bastard hurts them, I'll kill him myself," Elan was close to being overwhelmed by the possibility that he might lose all of them and was finding it difficult to control his growing fear and deep anger.

Elan was grateful to Sam for the understanding he saw on his face and for the comforting grip on his shoulder. Sam was as close to Callen as he was to Joe and Marty, and he could see he was feeling the same frustration that they couldn't be there to rescue them if they needed it.

"Let's go see what we can find out from the two you left standing," Sam said and they walked back to join Roy.

After cutting the zip ties off their ankles, they pulled the two captives up the driveway without a word, finally walking them around the side of the house to the back and into what used to be the stable. The inside still smelled of hay, but when Roy flipped on a few lights there were no horses in the large open stalls.

"Impressive," Elan said softly as he looked around. "Sorta miss the horses though."

"Personally, I hate horses," Roy drawled as he and Sam tied the two men to a couple of posts. "Tried ridin' once when I visited here as a kid...got tossed and kicked in the ass. Horses just didn't have the same appeal after that."

"Guidry ain't gonna like this," warned the man with the broken nose.

"You think you were just gonna walk in and kill us without a fight?" Sam thundered.

"We thought Roy would be asleep," the other man replied weakly. "Didn't know 'bout you two dudes."

"Question is boys, is why?" Roy asked with a friendly smile. "Why kill Homer and try to kill me?"

"Guidry got pissed that Homer was sellin' information 'bout The Brotherhood."

"Shut up, Amos," Broken nose snarled.

"You shut up, Leroy," he snapped back. "You wanna die for Guidry that's your business, but I sure as hell don't. 'Specially after he set his dogs on that federal agent. That weren't right, and neither was doing that to ol' Homer."

"Looks like we got us a bright one here," Roy said. "Who's your mama, kid?"

"She was a Duchamp," he said, hanging his head as if embarrassed. "Over by Breaux Bridge."

"She know you went and got mixed up with The Brotherhood?" He asked kindly.

"Nossir."

"It's gonna shame your mama when she finds out what y'all did tonight," Roy said. "No mama should have ta live with that."

Elan had no idea where he was going with this, but the kid did seem to be responding, while the other one just looked pissed.

"Does Henry know y'all killed his cousin?"

"Yeah he knows," Leroy giggled. "He's the one cut his tongue out."

"Sonofabitch."

Elan was suddenly wild with fear and rage, and had the open switchblade up under Leroy's chin in a single heartbeat. "You think that's funny?"

"Wait now...wait...didn't mean nothin', man...easy now," Leroy babbled.

"You laugh when they killed that federal agent your friend here mentioned?" Sam asked coldly.

"Them dogs is Guidry's thing, now," Leroy said as a trickle of blood ran down his throat. "Nothin' I coulda done ta stop it. He don't like no one arguin' with 'im. Tell 'em Amos."

"He's right about that. Guidry is the meanest sonofabitch I ever seen," Amos said. "Man was he pissed when that other agent escaped."

"What other agent?" Elan hissed.

"Guy callin' himself Phil...Beeler...I think his last name was," Amos said. "Took out two of the guys guardin' 'im. Killed one. Guidry was so mad he killed the other one. Clubbed 'im to death."

"Who told Guidry he was an agent?" Sam asked.

"Better keep your mouth shut, Amos," Leroy warned. "You know what'll happen if Guidry finds out."

"Y'all best worry about what happens in the next two seconds if we don't get answers," Roy said pleasantly. "Or would ya like ta see the other knife this big Arapaho carries. Ya scalp anyone lately, Mr. Hand?"

"I'm a little rusty, so it might hurt a bit more than usual," Elan said, following that up with some harsh sounding words in his native tongue as he reached down and pulled the black Ka-bar out of his boot.

"Y'all are jokin'...right?" Leroy whispered shakily.

"Is that what Homer asked before you cut his tongue out?" Sam's stance was one of solid fury. "Now answer the damn question. Who told you those two men were federal agents?"

"Some guy in a suit," Leroy stammered out. "Think he might own some of them stripper wells we guard. He ain't from around here."

"Where from then?" Roy asked.

"Talked like a Yankee," Amos volunteered. "Kept swearin' about the skeeters pesterin' 'im. Overheard him tell the other guy he couldn't wait ta get back up ta Washington."

"What other guy?" Sam asked.

"Some dude from New Orleans," he replied. "Same guy who came to the upper camp when Guidry set his dogs on that Fed."

"Got a name?" Sam pressed, giving Elan a look of pure anger.

"Didn't never hear no one say it," Amos said. "Did hear 'im tell Guidry to keep Phil alive. Said he wanted to question 'im. Think them two knew each other. Phil was screamin' cuss words at 'im durin' the killin'."

"Could you identify him from a photo?" Sam asked.

"Who the hell are you guys, anyways?" Leroy interrupted to ask boldly.

"You got your brotherhood and we got ours," Elan whispered close to his ear as he brought the tip of his knife up under Leroy's left eye.

"Easy now, Mr. Hand," Roy said quietly. "These boys are gonna help us find your cousin...ain't that right boys?"

"Yessir...no need ta get jumpy."

"Then tell us about this upper camp you mentioned," Elan said, pressing the knife against the frightened man's cheek.

"It's up on Bayou Chene east of Catahoula," he answered, his voice tight and breathless.

"How many men Guidry got up there?" Roy asked.

"'Bout thirty-five, forty maybe at the main camp," Amos offered. "Only 'bout ten or fifteen stay up on Bayou Chene."

Sam cocked his head toward the door, and Elan could tell he was agitated and wanting to talk. The three of them made there way to the long bench on the front porch of the house and sat down, all of them staring wearily down the alley of oaks to the road.

"Would ya have cut that boy's eye out?" Roy asked softly.

"Would it be a problem if I did or one if I didn't have the stomach for it?" Elan replied.

"Interestin' way to put it," Roy said. "You're a wild card to me. You were upset they'd cut Homer's tongue out..."

"And you didn't seem to care," Elan said quickly.

"I knew that boy and I do care, but in the middle of an op I don't have the luxury of flyin' off the handle over what's already done."

"It's not your brothers in danger, and I wasn't out of control," Elan said sharply.

"All bets are off when family's involved," Roy commented softly. "Never know what depths ya might sink to in order to save someone ya love."

"I'll fight any man to the death who threatens my family," he replied. "But I've never tortured anyone. It's not in my nature. Saw a man who did have that nature once and I saw what that man did to Marty...and it made me sick."

"Deeks was tortured?" Roy asked, turning to stare openmouthed at him.

"Kidnapped and held for eight days by a former Stasi agent," Sam said softly. "Elan and his family saved his life in the end."

"Didn't lose control then either," Elan said, suddenly angry at the stark memory. "Just did what was needed."

"What did..."

"You don't get to know that."

"Fair enough, mon ami," Roy acceded.

"You two done?" Sam finally said, waiting for them to back off each other. "We need to talk to Hetty. This is bigger than we thought it was. Somebody in Washington is involved and we have no idea who. I think it's time for me to go undercover inside the task force. Roy, if you've got a button cam, I'll get pictures of as many members as I can. We'll show them to Amos and see if he can identify who ratted out Joe and Oscar."

"No trouble hookin' ya up with a spy cam, but we need to move before Guidry gets nervous that somethin's gone wrong and sends reinforcements," Roy said.

"Do you trust either one of them to make a call to Guidry and let him know everything went off as planned?" Elan asked.

"Might give us a few hours," Roy acknowledged. "But if they don't return to camp eventually, the games up and we need ta be outa here when that happens."

"What about the dead bodies?" Sam asked.

"Oscar Doucet had a big ol' family and his brother Gus said they're all itchin' ta help," Roy replied. "They're scattered all along Bayou Teche over by St. Martinville. I'll give Gus a call, see if he can help us out."

"You got a nice set up here. Will we have to go dark when we leave?" Sam asked.

"I don't like goin' dark anymore than I like horses," he replied with a sudden grin.

"So where we moving to?" Elan asked.

"Home," he said with a smile. "This place is a project of mine, but it ain't home. Got fifteen acres east of Lafayette. House in the middle. A lake. A barn, in name only, that's chock full of the latest state of the art tech equipment...and lots and lots of privacy. Even got a different name over there. Broussard."

"Hetty said you were retired," Sam said. "Are you?"

"I make it a point to keep some things a secret, even from Hetty," he replied as he pulled his phone. "At least I try."

While Sam checked in with Hetty and Roy made arrangements with Gus Doucet, Elan went back and brought his car up. He was feeling dead tired now, especially after his contentious conversation with Roy Blanchard or Broussard, or whatever the hell he wanted to call himself. He wasn't sure why he had brought up Deeks' torture, and now hoped he never found out, knowing it was something he preferred to keep private. The man's response to the information made him think the two men hadn't exactly hit it off. Deeks could be a wiseass, especially when he was ticked off or if someone doubted his abilities, which he had a feeling was what had happened here. He was a man sometimes easy to underestimate, but Elan had never done that, maybe because he had heard what he had done for Joe before he ever saw him. His long hair disconcerted some, who made assumptions about him because of it, but it was as much a part of who he was as Elan's own long hair. Deeks didn't mind being different. Long hair simply expressed what he felt inside, and as an Arapaho he understood and respected that.

When they first met, Marty Deeks had reminded him of Joe as a boy, open-faced, his smile warm and welcoming, but he learned quickly that he wasn't a blithe spirit. He cared deeply and had suffered for it. They shared the pain of similar fathers, and having grown up unsure if they deserved to be loved by anyone. When they'd discovered men who had no fear of showing them the kind of fatherly love they craved, it had changed both their lives. His uncle, Jim Littleshield, was the kindest man he knew, wise and full of understanding, a man who had gentled him as a child, never showing anger, only patience with the wild boy he was. George had seen through Marty from the very beginning, intuitively realizing he had been abused as a child and because of that, carried guilt as if deserving of it. He'd helped him face his fear of rejection and by loving him like a son no matter what, had convinced him he was worthy of that love.

The two of them had suffered together in France, bonding as they fought side by side, becoming as close as brothers. But, it was the search for Elan's lost son Soldier that had deepened that bond, creating a love neither one voiced, but that was now a part of them nonetheless. He had come here because of his love for Joe, and now was experiencing a terrifying fear that Marty was in just as much danger. Knowing Callen was with him gave him some solace, but he worried for him as well. He knew the man would do anything to keep Marty safe, and he could only hope it wouldn't cost him.

Elan walked into the stable, the two bound men shrinking back in fear at his approach. Blanchard's question still gnawed at him, making him wonder just how far he would go if it would keep his brothers from suffering or from an unjust death. He had made that kind of decision once, and still shivered whenever he recalled the horror of it.

"You gonna kill us now?" Leroy asked, sounding resigned to his fate.

"You anxious to die?" He asked in reply.

"Guess we just expect it," Amos said.

"You help us, you live another day," he assured them.

"And if we don't?" Leroy blurted out nervously.

"The federal agent Guidry killed had a big family," he said evenly. "His brothers are on their way here. You don't help us, we hand you over to them. I doubt they'll be gentle with you. Your choice."

"That ain't no choice, man," Leroy whined. "Guidry don't like traitors. He's crazy, man. He sent six men with dogs after that Phil guy and when they catch 'im, you don't wanna know what he'll do to 'im. I seen 'im do awful things ta people, man. I help ya and he'll hurt my family."

"If you don't, he'll hurt mine," Elan replied softly, then turned and walked out into the deep gray of early dawn.

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