Brotherhood
Chapter 13
...
The warning about gators had been followed by a deep sneering laugh and a too hard slap on the back, but he felt he should heed it nonetheless. The man delivering it was a classic hard ass right out of one of those B movies you find on TV late at night when you can't sleep and need raw action to clear your mind. He sure as hell looked the part and had no trouble acting the part, seeming to relish the wide berth most of the men gave him. Callen was on edge around him, especially after the back slap, which had made him stumble and almost collapse, earning him another sneering laugh. He just loved being tested so soon after having a bullet wound stitched up. Fully aware these men were Guidry's top militia unit, Callen had still stepped up to protect him and he'd been forced to use a bit of dirty humor to ease the tension between the two men.
His name was Saint-Jean, but everyone called him Saint, which he most definitely was not. He wore a short camo jacket with the sleeves cut off above his bulging biceps and unbuttoned to show off his bare chest and impressive abs. Deeks asked where he got the steroids he was obviously on, and it had earned him one of the sharpest looks he'd ever gotten from Callen. Saint had taken the question seriously and wasn't offended at all. He proudly showed off his ripped muscles in a classic pose worthy of Bluto from the Popeye cartoons Deeks used to watch as a kid, which is what he called him when he found a moment alone with Callen. The bulked up man walked around camp heavily armed at all times and was the one leading the hunt for his brother Joe.
The camp itself was rugged, and most of the men slept in hammocks on raised platforms open to the sky. They had been given one of the few cabins on Guidry's orders. Saint had spit in the dirt at Pea's feet when he was informed of the special treatment, defiant until told of the shooting. His look of surprise would piss Jimmy Hale off Deeks reasoned, so he stared stonily at him until the man came over and clapped him hard on the shoulder and welcomed him to camp, although he wasn't sure he meant it.
Their tiny, one-room cabin overlooked the lake, which was blacker than the sky, except around the edge, which was bright green with foul smelling algae. They had no porch, the camp chairs sitting in the dirt outside, and only one window, but they did have a door this time and it gave them some much-needed privacy.
"Watch yourself with that guy," Callen said as he settled into the camp chair beside him. "I doubt he even has a sense of humor, and you already scared the shit out of me enough for one day."
"It wasn't that bad," Deeks replied.
"How would you know? You were unconscious most of the time."
"You blaming me for that? I couldn't help it. You know that right?" he asked, wondering if Callen was mad at him for getting shot.
"You bled all over my favorite jeans," Callen said with a smirk.
"That definitely wasn't my plan," he replied, feeling slightly embarrassed.
"You still lightheaded?" He asked.
"Only when I try to stand up...or lie down...or when Bluto gives me one of his not-so-friendly slaps on the back."
"Don't be a smart ass around that guy...okay?" There was fondness in his voice, but he stared at him intently until he nodded his agreement.
Callen hadn't left his side since he'd regained consciousness after surgery. His mind had been fuzzy from the drugs, but as they'd carried him out into the sun it had been hard to miss the tension in the argument going on over him. The doctor had actually cursed Guidry, which had brought him fully awake and had caused Callen to pull his gun. There had been a subtle change in Guidry's treatment of Jake Hale since the shooting, and they had stood side by side against the doctor as he'd ranted about Guidry's incompetence. Even barely conscious, he'd seen the deep rage simmering in that rough looking man, and wondered how long before he would allow it to explode. Callen had hovered over him as he'd tried to get comfortable in the makeshift bed they'd prepared in the bow of the boat that had brought them here, his caring and concern a comfort he realized he'd grown used to. Once they'd arrived at camp and been left alone in the cabin, Callen had confirmed that the good doctor was high up in the terrorist organization, but he'd said little about his own personal elevation in the eyes of Antoine Guidry.
"What are you thinking?" Callen asked, drawing him back to the present.
"Guidry trusts you now."
"Yeah. You too. But Saint doesn't," he replied. "And he's in charge up here."
"We can't let that guy gets eyes on Joe before we do," Deeks whispered as he stared out at the dark lake. "He'll shoot him down without a second thought."
"Not if we shoot him first," he replied, the stark reality of his words chilling in the warm darkness.
A couple of shouts ended their conversation and Callen helped him up so they could go find out what was going on. The center of camp was lit by a scattering of propane lanterns and a couple of flaming barrels of burning trash and limbs from the dead trees that littered the far end of the lake. Deeks didn't recognize any of the men that walked into the smoky light, but their camaraderie with the men in camp was obvious as they clasped hands and pulled each other into manly hugs, laughing and talking loudly in Cajun. They all carried hunting rifles, and one man handed Saint a large jug of clear liquid he guessed might be moonshine or some kind of homemade brew. He muttered Deliverance under his breath, and saw Callen crack a smile before whispering that all they needed was a banjo.
When they were spotted, the men stopped and looked them over suspiciously, coiled for action until Pea explained who they were and why they were there. Most of the men slowly relaxed, but one man stared at Deeks for a long time, finally making a short comment in Cajun that seemed to put all the men on edge again, except for Saint.
"This ugly sonofabitch is Rigo," Saint said to Deeks, walking over to throw an arm across his shoulder. "Watch your back, Jimmy. Tino's his brother. He's pissed about you punchin' his big ol' brother in the nuts, so he might be lookin' for payback. But as far as I'm concerned, that fat asshole probably deserved it. Sure as hell slowed down his love life, not that he had much of one."
"Fuck you, Saint," Rigo growled through a thick mustache.
"I'll kill you if ya try," Saint said evenly as if he thought it was a possibility.
"We think we know where that fuckin' Fed is," Rigo reported, ignoring the threat. "Think a creole family took 'im in. They got a place just south of Butte La Rose."
"That ol' black preacher man?" Pea asked. "Done already checked it. Ain't nothin' and nobody there 'cept him and his wife, and three black boys. They dumb as posts. All of 'em."
"Beau's been watchin' the place," Rigo replied. "They actin' weird."
"No use arguin' about it. Me and the new guys will check it out," Saint said as he turned to look at both of them. "First light. You up for that, hero boy?"
The condescension in his voice and the name he'd been called instantly got under Deeks' skin and Callen saw that, resting a hand at the base of his neck as he stared back at the man and nodded. Deeks felt the subtle pressure and it held him in place, and he realized that he wanted nothing more than to beat the man's face in. His fear for Joe set him on edge and close to losing control of his emotions and good sense. That Callen understood calmed him and he turned to flash a quick, grateful smile at him.
"Ya ain't goin' without me," Rigo said, his nostrils flaring as he stood his ground.
"No never mind ta me, man," Saint said coolly, before pointing at the jug he held. "That the PLX?"
"Guidry said to test it before he comes up," Rigo said. "Don't want no mistakes this late in the game."
"I don't make mistakes," Saint growled.
The two men walked off together and Callen immediately dug his fingers into Deeks' shoulder, pulling him back toward the cabin. He could feel him practically vibrating and his own stomach clinched in agitation. Once they were inside and the door was closed, Callen made his way in the darkness to the farthest corner and spoke softly into the comms.
"Roy? Were you listening?"
"Heard it. Don't like it."
"Is that what I think it is?" Elan asked as Callen stared at Deeks, who was feeling weak in the knees even though he was sitting on the edge of his cot.
"PLX is a liquid explosive," Roy said calmly. "Combined with C4, RDX or Semtex it can do some serious damage."
"So we know they're gonna blow something up, we just don't know what," Deeks said quietly.
"Or where," Callen added.
"I'll pass this on to Hetty while you two go get your brother," Roy said. "I got a feelin' he might just know the what and the where. Makes sense why they want him so bad."
"They also might want to question him before they kill him," Callen said, keeping his voice low. "Find out if he gave anyone the information. They won't pull a raid till they're sure of that."
"At least that gives us an advantage," Deeks said. "They won't just go in shooting."
"But if he is with that family, it'll make it harder on you two," Elan cautioned. "You'll have to be extra careful not to get them killed and that takes away some of your edge."
"Saint won't have any qualms about killing innocents," Deeks replied sadly.
"He ain't gonna have no qualms about killin' you either, boy," Roy warned. "So stay safe and watch your six. I'm just startin' ta like you."
"Don't go gettin' soft on me, dickwad," Deeks sniped, but the man's kind comment had touched him.
"That doctor give you anything for the pain, Cuz?" Elan cut in.
"The nice nurse did."
"Then take some and get some rest," Elan ordered firmly.
"You don't have to worry about me, Elan."
"Then quit getting hurt," he snapped back.
"You forget France, brother?" Deeks asked, not liking the rebuke. "That was you bleeding out on the bed."
"Enough you two," Callen grumbled.
"They always do this?" Roy asked.
"You should hear 'em when Joe's around," Callen smirked. "They never shut up."
"Any news from Sam?" Deeks asked, trying to steer the conversation away from himself.
"Yeah. He found Joe's handler, or she found him...not sure which," Roy reported.
"She?" The two replied in unison.
"Name's Safa Jordan, FBI agent who transferred down here from DC," Roy continued.
"Roy failed to mention she's beautiful and incredibly hot," Elan said and Deeks could hear the smile in his voice.
"I'm gonna tell Lily you said that," he teased.
"Did Sam say he trusted her?" Callen interrupted to ask softly.
"Sounded like he does for now," Roy replied. "Nell is monitoring their meeting tonight and she promised to pass on the details when it's over."
"Elan?"
"Yeah, Cuz?"
"If we do find Joe tomorrow can you be close by?" Deeks asked.
"You won't see me, but I'll be there," Elan replied. "If you need backup just say 'notonoh' oeheb'. It means 'my brother'."
"Seriously? Got anything shorter and easier to say?" Deeks said, glaring at Callen for laughing.
"How about 'niiteheibi? It means 'help me'."
"Really?"
"Then just say 'dumbass'. I know you can pronounce that," Elan said, sounding mildly exasperated.
"Suits 'im too," Roy said with a hooting laugh.
"Watch yourself tomorrow, Elan," Callen said quietly, pulling them back to the reality of what they'd be facing. "Not sure how many men will be going with us."
"He won't be alone," Roy replied. "He may be a former Army Ranger and got good genes from his forefathers an all, but I know that swamp. No way he don't get lost without me along."
Deeks heard the sharp retort in Arapaho and Roy growling something back in Cajun and he shook his head and removed his earwig, growing tired and trying not to worry. Callen was watching him and signed off for the night, maneuvering easily through the dark to grab a bottle of water and pick up one of the small packets of pain pills and the antibiotics the nurse had handed him.
"Gotta feeling Saint means to leave before sun up, so take these and get some sleep," Callen said. "I'll wake you in time to change your dressing."
"You think we'll finally find him?" Deeks said, the darkness of the cabin adding to his feeling of isolation, leaving him disquieted about what was coming.
"Tomorrow or the next day...as long as it takes," Callen said, resting a comforting hand briefly on his shoulder.
...
Sam covered his wine glass with his hand as the waiter prepared to pour what remained of the Brunello. He silently redirected him to Safa who also declined, graciously offering the rest of the bottle to the young man, who smiled and bowed before leaving them alone once again.
"You were right about the rack of lamb," Sam said warmly. "And the wine."
"I just hope I'm right about you," she said as she leaned back in her chair and critically observed him. "You're monitoring this whole conversation aren't you? Probably wearing a button cam too. Who should I say hello to?"
"An analyst so smart it makes my teeth hurt sometimes," Sam replied, hearing a softly murmured hum in his ear. "And by now, she probably knows when you lost your virginity and with who."
"Sounds like whoever is on the other end of your comm link likes to dig deep. Good luck with that, whoever you are," she said with a shrug. "Still don't trust me, Sam?"
"Maybe not completely just yet, but that comes with the job," he replied. "My partner is even more suspicious of things that come in pretty packages and tied up in bows."
"What is it about me that makes you suspicious?" She asked and he could see she was genuinely curious. "Surely it's not because of my looks. I doubt very seriously if your wife is some dowdy little lady that sits at home and knits."
"No...she ain't dowdy by a long shot and I knit better than she does," Sam laughed.
"Then what? Tell me or this partnership is dead in the water," she said sharply.
"Tell me how you knew I wasn't DOJ," he replied with a smile as he leaned across the table.
"You have a habit of sounding threatening even when you're smiling," she said, remaining calm and not the least bit intimidated.
"Partners don't keep secrets," he replied.
"That's a lie and you know it," she laughed. "It's something all of us would like to believe, but deep down know it's not remotely possible because everyone keeps secrets in this business."
"You're right, but this is one secret I need to know," he said, easing back in his chair. "Who assigned you to handle Joe Atwood and Oscar Doucet? Simple question."
"One I was ordered not to answer," she replied.
Sam startled when his phone rang and he instantly feared something had happened to Callen or Deeks and he saw the concern in Safa's eyes. She had read him easily, making him even more curious about her.
"Put me on speaker, Mr. Hanna," Hetty ordered. "This will be a conference call."
"We got company," Sam said as he set the phone down between them.
"Miss Jordan? My name is Henrietta Lange, NCIS Office of Special Projects. Sam is one of my agents, and I believe you already know the gentleman joining us. Morgan Bellamy, Deputy Assistant Attorney General, National Security Division. He oversees the Office of Intelligence in Washington. Your boss, I believe."
"You're not FBI," Sam said with resignation as Safa simply shrugged.
"Agent Hanna, I hope you understand. After the mole was discovered, and because of the sensitivity of the operation involving the New Orleans task force and the terrorists they are investigating, the heads of several agencies were called upon to provide intel and undercover agents who could not be compromised," Bellamy stated, his voice resonating with authority. "We each agreed to keep our part of the operation secret, including any agents involved. That's why neither Terrance Rigby, head of the Joint Terrorism Task Force here in Washington, nor Roger Stinson, XO of the FBI's National Security Branch knew who was handling Joe Atwood and Oscar Doucet. Safa Jordan answers only to me."
"Don't take this the wrong way sir," Sam said, suddenly angry with the bureaucracy. "Then who the hell fucked up? Or is that a secret too?"
"Calm down Sam," Hetty said kindly.
"That's a little tough to do when Joe Atwood's been branded a traitor and is running for his life. Oscar Doucet was torn to shreds by dogs and dumped in a bayou. Two members of my team are undercover with the men who did that and one has already been shot. I don't intend to calm down until somebody tells me who in this task force is responsible for all that."
"Sam?" Safa said quietly as if she might spook him. "Even if we discover who blew Joe and Oscar's cover, arresting him might send the terrorists underground. It might put your people in more danger with The Brotherhood."
"Are you saying we should just stand by and do nothing?" Sam asked with barely restrained anger. "Or are you just covering your ass cause you got nothing to show for the time you've been here?"
"Mr. Hanna!" Hetty said sharply. "This isn't like you. We are all on the same team here and we have work to do."
"What I'm suggesting is that you and I feed the suspects I do have with a little false information," she said. "Something that might send The Brotherhood on a wild goose chase."
"Well, I suggest you do it quickly because I just received information that has pushed this op close to the boiling point," Hetty cut in. "I believe the time for secrecy is over. We need all hands on deck for this one, and we need to work together."
"What's happened, Henrietta?" Bellamy asked.
"The Brotherhood is testing PLX, we assume with different explosives," she reported. "My men in the field believe The Brotherhood is close to finding Agent Atwood and that he quite possibly knows what the target is."
"That's why they're after him," Sam said quietly. "They'll take him alive and torture him to find out if he told anyone else."
"They're afraid their attack plan may be compromised," Safa added.
"At least that buys us some time," Bellamy said, sounding a bit exasperated. "Do you think your men can get to Atwood first?"
"They will do anything it takes to bring him safely home," Hetty replied. "Sam? You and your new partner need to cause a little chaos at that task force. Let's see who panics if they believe Joe may already be out of their reach."
"Safa? Work with Agent Hanna and let's flush out the bastard who got one of our own butchered," Bellamy ordered, his voice reverberating with anger.
"And you, Mr. Bellamy, need to find out who Eliot Dale is working with at the DOJ," Hetty said. "These terrorists are walking your own halls and you need to root them out."
"I'm working on it, Ms. Lange," he replied. "Knowing there are traitors in our midst is quite disturbing, and I won't tolerate it."
"Let's get to work then," Hetty said and signed off as did Morgan Bellamy, leaving Sam and Safa staring at each other.
"Who do you suspect?" Sam asked immediately.
"Not here," she said quickly. "Let's go to my place. I have files on each of them there."
"How'd you manage that?" He asked with a smile.
"I'm a spy," she replied flippantly. "How do you think?"
"How high is your security clearance anyway?" Sam asked as they both stood up to leave.
"Jealous?"
"Just curious," he replied.
"Let's just say this ain't my first rodeo," Safa said, seeming to enjoy the lighthearted banter.
"You do like your trite clichés," Sam teased. "You use that one on Joe Atwood?"
"Tried it. He laughed and threatened to get me on a horse after this op was over," she replied somberly. "I hate to even think of him out there all alone with those bastards closing in. He's a good man, and I want him to make it. My security clearance won't matter if I lose him too."
Sam nodded and smiled kindly at her, his trust in her cemented by her comments about Joe. He could see that she cared and that made all the difference.
"I'll get the check," he said.
"Already taken care of," she replied. "I like to spoil my men."
"Nell, if this part of our conversation is leaked to my wife, I will hunt you down," Sam said quickly into comms when he heard her laugh.
"Tell her not to worry, Nell. He's not my type," Safa said as she smirked at the button cam on Sam's shirt.
"Bet that was a little tough on the ego, Sam," Nell taunted. "Please let her know her secret is safe with me."
"What does that mean? What secret?" Sam asked as Safa guided him toward a back door.
"Sounds like she found out who I lost my virginity to," Safa said with a smile. "You're good Nell. You and I should have drinks. I'm sure we both have some pretty good stories to share."
"Tell her I look forward to it," Nell told Sam.
"I am not being the go between for you two," Sam warned.
"Then set me up with comms," Safa said. "We're partners now and it'll make things easier. Besides, I want to hear Nell's voice. Tell me what she looks like."
"What? No," Sam said, confused by the conversation.
He pushed through the back door and walked out into the alley, the area around the doorway brightly lit. He was distracted by the sounds coming through the open screen door of the kitchen, but Safa said something and he turned back just as a bullet hit the brick wall next to his head, sending shards flying. Sam hit the ground and grabbed for his gun, vibrating with adrenaline as Safa yelled for him to get back inside. She was hidden just inside the doorway and was firing into the dark and he scrambled toward her. The methodical staccato sound of bullets hitting the building followed him inside, but he quickly got into a prone position and began firing toward the lower windows of the warehouse across the alley where the shots were coming from.
"You see him?" Sam choked out as he continued to fire.
"Just the muzzle flashes," she said as she reloaded. "You hit?"
"Just a nick," he breathed out. "Nell...get us some help down here."
Sam ran his fingers over the back of his head where he felt a searing sting, touching the warm trickle of blood that had run down into his collar. Nell was yelling in his ear and he finally told her to be quiet, assuring both of them that he was fine. When the firing abruptly stopped, Safa looked at him and nodded toward the warehouse, the question in her eyes had him on his feet instantly as she suddenly took off across the alley. He covered her, but the assailant had either been hit or had quit firing to make a run for it, so he followed. Safa was already inside, moving down the hall cautiously in the dark and finally pausing outside a half opened door.
"Ready?" She asked.
"Go."
She went in low and he covered her as she checked the room, while he checked the hall before following her inside.
"Clear," she said sharply. "Dammit! He's gone."
Many of the panes in the window were shattered and pieces of glass covered a dusty metal table underneath. A small amount of light came in from the well lit back of the restaurant and they could just make out the marks of a sniper's tripod in the dust.
"I got blood," Safa said, holding up her fingers. "We hit the bastard."
"Question is...how did he miss me?" Sam asked as he looked out across the alley. "I made a perfect target in that light."
"Maybe he never intended to kill you," she replied. "Maybe they just wanted to scare you."
"All they did was piss me off," Sam grunted.
"Should we look for his blood trail or let the local cops do it?" She asked.
"Mr. Hanna? Are you all right?" Hetty's voice was strident in his ear and he knew she was angry.
"We're both fine, Hetty," Sam replied.
"Nell is checking street and security cams," she said quickly. "We'll make whatever she discovers available to local police. Looks as though you've rattled someone's cage."
"And they aren't too happy about it," he replied.
"Cops are here," Safa announced as she made her way out the door to talk to them.
"Sam? Be very careful from now on," Hetty advised. "You've made someone very nervous and he might try again."
"Looks like our traitor has already panicked," Sam replied.
"That might make him easier to find."
"I hope you're right, Hetty."
"Should I let Mr. Callen know what happened?"
"He's got enough to deal with," Sam replied. "You know how he gets when he worries."
"Yes. He's turned into quite the mother hen, hasn't he?" She laughed.
"Never thought of it that way, but having family has changed him."
"For the better, Mr. Hanna. For the better," she said softly. "Now go introduce Mr. Franklin Goodman of the DOJ to the police. And I'll have the Attorney General light a fire under the Chief of Police. They might actually catch the bastard who did this."
"We wounded him," Sam said. "Maybe he'll bleed to death. Would serve him right."
"Well, he did miss you, Sam."
"No reward for incompetence."
"Either that or he's really, really good and purposely missed," she replied. "Be grateful either way. I know I am, and so will Mr. Callen and Mr. Deeks."
"It's even more personal now, Hetty."
"Yes. I believe our traitor made his first mistake tonight."
"And I'm gonna make him pay for it."
...
...