Brotherhood
Chapter 20
...
"Sam? Where the hell are you, man?"
Roy's voice was so loud and unexpected it made him fumble his chopsticks and drop the last spicy shrimp potsticker he was about to eat onto the table, where it immediately slid off onto the floor. Safa laughed when she saw him pull a grumpy face, but she read his instant attentiveness and quickly put in her own earwig.
"You owe me a potsticker," Sam replied, not bothering to suppress his irritation.
"Just tell me you ain't eatin' it in your car," he rushed out.
"I never eat in my car. Too messy. Why?"
"Cause it ain't long for this world, especially if you're in it," Roy said, his agitation calming slightly. "Callen gave me a heads up. Couple of Guidry's boys are plannin' to practice their bombing skills with you as the guinea pig."
"How'd they find you? I thought you changed hotels?" Safa said as she waved to the waiter for the check.
"I did. Rental car too," he replied as he threw cash on the table.
"Usin' the same alias?" Roy asked.
"Yeah," Sam acknowledged, embarrassed by his mistake.
"You really did piss them boys off," he replied. "They want your ass real bad."
"Obviously you can't got back to the hotel or the car," Safa said, scanning the streets as they walked out of the Moon Wok restaurant and melted into the late night crowd. "So you better stay at my place."
"Better hope it ain't Safa they're actually trackin'," Roy said quietly.
"You think I'd put down my real address when I got this job?" She snapped. "And no, I was not tailed on my way here."
"She always this touchy?" Roy asked.
"Usually," Sam said, constantly scanning the crowds as they cut down St. Ann Street toward the river. "But if they are tracking you, we better leave your car too."
"What's your cover story for not goin' back to your car and hotel tonight?" Roy asked. "Cause if you ain't dead by mornin' and you walk into Director White's office, ya better spin some sorta story and it better be a damn good one or Callen and the wiseass are blown.
"No problem. I'll take care of that," Safa said with a slow smile as she took Sam's arm and leaned seductively against him. "I know just who to whisper to about my latest whirlwind affair. It's been one hell of a ride, hasn't it dumpling? Couldn't let you fly home without one final roll in the hay."
"Dumpling?" Sam asked, raising his eyebrows and then shaking his head in amusement.
"Embarrassin' nickname for a Navy SEAL," Roy cackled.
"You tell Callen or Deeks and I'll burn that plantation of yours down around your big ears."
"Now who's touchy?" Safa mewed.
"My ears ain't big," Roy huffed.
Safa led Sam on a meandering route to her place in the Marigny neighborhood, passing through bars and down alleyways. Occasionally they would stop for a drink and then follow whatever rowdy crowd spilled out into the street before slipping into the courtyard of the Soniat House behind two couples from California. They sat by the fountain of the upscale hotel for a good half hour, keeping an eye on anyone coming in and pretending to be entranced with one another, before leaving arm in arm.
By the time they reached her apartment in a renovated, three-story brick warehouse down by the river, they were convinced no one had followed them. Safa checked for her mail in a box in the foyer listed under a different name and Sam was reassured that she took her personal security seriously. After signing off with Roy for the night, they took the elevator up to the third floor and walked to the end of the hall to a brilliant red sliding barn door and he watched her check it for whatever detection device she had in place. When she turned to smile at him, he couldn't help but smile back as she unlocked and slid the door open on a spacious living space with large multi-paned windows that looked out over the Mississippi. Steel posts stretched up to the high ceiling, adding to the industrial look as did the lighting. The rough, pink brick walls retained their original white paint, now worn by time, the bottom half a pale green that picked up the color of the acid washed cement floor. Her furnishings were sparse, mostly leather, the modern tables a dark wood and the kitchen area completely stainless steel, with pale green concrete countertops. The woman had taste, and had to have money to be able to afford this place.
"Not exactly government issue," Sam commented.
"Is that another accusation?" She asked coldly.
"Just an observation."
"I rented it fully furnished, if that's what you're wondering. I didn't come here to be a decorator," she said, obviously annoyed.
"I wasn't implying anything. It just surprised me that's all," Sam replied, trying to placate her. "It's nice. I like it."
"The guest bedroom is down the hall. Bathroom too," she said, sounding tired. "And you can help yourself to whatever's in the fridge. Won't be much. I eat out most nights, but there's beer."
"What? No office with surveillance photos on the wall and maps with clandestine meeting places marked in red?" Sam asked with a soft smile.
"Of course. What kind of spy would I be if I didn't have the prerequisite hidden stalker room we see in all the movies," Safa replied, losing some of her surly attitude.
Having said that, she made no move to show it to him if she did indeed have one. He walked to the fridge, opening it to reveal a sparse landscape featuring a tub of Greek yogurt, eggs in a blue bowl, some takeout boxes and a six-pack of Belgian beer with two bottles left. He took the two of them, but she shook her head when he offered one to her. As he looked around the apartment, he was reminded of Callen again, only her place was bigger, with a better view and more furniture.
"My partner would like this place," he said as he walked over to the window to look out at the boats on the river. "No clutter."
"What are they like?" She asked as she dropped into one of the low-slung leather chairs. "The undercover agents. You all sound like family."
"Why do you want to know?" Sam asked, suddenly on guard and unable to keep the suspicion out of his voice.
"Just wondering if you're all too close for this to work," she said coolly, having picked up on his reticence. "Your Arapaho friend seemed ready to charge in and blow the whole case if anything happened to your friends. That makes me nervous, because he doesn't appear to be an agent or a cop."
"No need to worry. Callen and Deeks both know what they're doing," Sam replied defensively. "And Elan can handle himself."
"But they are close, aren't they?" she asked.
"They're brothers in arms. You have a problem with that?" he asked, trying to make her back off.
"It goes deeper than that, and deep emotions can get you in trouble real fast," she said. "They're a distraction and it makes decisions difficult if you're more worried about your partner than the mission."
"Is that what you think happened? That Joe made some mistake because he was worried about Oscar?"
"Possibly."
"What happened to Oscar was Harrison White's fault, and Guidry's, not Joe's," Sam said, irritated with her thinking.
"But you think it might be partially mine."
"No I don't," he told her, dropping down into the corner of the sofa.
"Good to know," she said, flashing a brief smile.
"You lose someone in the field?" He asked. "Is that what this is about?"
He saw a flicker of irritation, and then a tightening of her jaw and he wasn't sure she would be willing to reveal anything personal.
"Tell me a little more about Callen and Deeks and then I might be willing to share," she replied. "I'm either a part of this team or I'm not, and Hetty seems to want me on it."
"A Hetty threat," Sam smirked. "That swings both ways. By now she knows everything about you and the ops you've run, successful and not."
"Is that supposed to scare me?" She asked, her voice low and challenging.
"It should," he laughed. "She scared the hell out of me the first time I met her. She likes doing it, too."
"She does have a reputation to uphold," she replied. "But then, so do I."
"Mission before personal entanglements," he said softly. "That your mantra?"
"It's the only way any of us survive," she said, staring him down.
"Lonely way to live. Just ask my partner," Sam said. "He believed that for most of his career...hell...his whole life. Lone wolf type. Never got too close to anyone, except Hetty maybe. Kept me at arms length for a good long time until I saved his skinny ass because I didn't follow his orders."
"And now you're like brothers?" She asked rather derisively.
"Yeah, we are," he replied.
"What about him and Deeks?" She asked, as she slipped off her shoes and tucked her feet up under her. "Are they close?"
"This is really bothering you isn't it?" Sam asked softly.
"I might not know them, but I don't want to see them end up like Oscar," she said, staring out the window as she hugged herself.
"None of us want that," Sam said uneasily, the thought disturbing.
"How will each one handle it if something goes wrong?" She asked pointedly. "What will your partner do, if Guidry harms Deeks?"
Sam didn't answer at first, his mind sifting through the different ops that involved Deeks. He wasn't sure he wanted to share how out of control Callen had been after Jürgen got to Deeks a second time. It wasn't until the rushed flight to the ranch to try and save him that he'd realized how much Deeks meant to Callen. There had been bloodlust in his eyes when he lost control, reminding him of that day in Romania when they'd gone to get Hetty back from the Comescu family. He had shot down everyone in his way, and he had no doubt he would do the same if Deeks were in danger of losing his life.
"He'll kill them all without mercy," he answered honestly.
"With no regard for himself or for the mission?" She asked, her eyes piercing with intensity.
"If he sees no other way out...yes," Sam answered. "At that point the mission would be blown anyway. But that's the worse case scenario, and I'm hoping it doesn't come to that."
"And Deeks?"
"The reason I don't think it will come to a worse case scenario is that Callen is the consummate professional. Cool under duress and incredibly smart," Sam said easily. "And Deeks...Deeks can play a situation any which way at the drop of a hat. He can talk his way out of just about anything, except doing paperwork for Hetty."
"Even with a man like Guidry?"
"Deeks is a survivor," Sam said quietly. "Rough childhood...former undercover cop...tough missions...tortured by a man that makes Guidry pale by comparison...and Deeks survived it all."
"But it changed him..."
"Want to tell me what changed you?" Sam asked quietly. "You're a lone wolf like my partner. Why?"
"Got too close to someone on an op once," she said, abruptly standing and walking to the window. "Lost the target...blew the mission all because I tried to save her."
"What happened?"
"Lost her too...end of story."
"You'd gotten too close."
"I loved her," she replied bitterly.
"I'm sorry," Sam said, finally understanding.
"Let's just concentrate on this case and where we go from here," she said evenly.
"You mean like finding a way to keep me from getting blown up?" Sam asked.
"I say we make it a top priority," she said, turning to him with a weary smile.
He saw the relief in her eyes and the relaxation of her body. She'd shared more than he'd expected, her personal revelation more than he probably deserved to know. They had bridged a gap, and formed a level of trust they could work with, and his mind turned to figuring out a way his survival didn't get other people killed including G and Deeks.
"They were tracking your rental car," she reasoned as she walked toward a glass block wall with an opening by the windows.
"Probably," he replied as he got up to follow. "If they planted the bomb while we were in the restaurant, it couldn't be on a timer. No time to wire it to the ignition, so they had to be there, watching me so they could remote detonate it when I got in."
"Which leaves me wondering what their next move will be," she said as she turned on a light over a long desk, illuminating several computers and the prerequisite wall of photos and maps.
"Nice," Sam laughed. "You'd make a sexy Jane Bond."
"I figured you for a Bond geek," she said, smiling as she sat down in front of the computer. "Bet you have a hot car back in LA...probably black."
"Black Charger," he replied.
"Predictable."
"You're almost as annoying as Deeks," he sniped.
"I look forward to comparing notes," she replied smoothly, as Harrison White's picture popped up on her computer.
"Oh he'll love that," Sam laughed.
"Listen...I don't think you should meet with the director tomorrow," she said quietly. "Call him from the airport...just walk away."
"That would leave you vulnerable," he said. "They had to have seen us together."
"You're assuming they know who I am," she replied.
"Thought you said you were going to gossip about our date?"
"Changed my mind," she said.
"If they took pictures tonight and send them to White, you're in trouble and you know it," Sam insisted. "I say we walk right in the front door and flaunt it. I already made an appointment. If I don't show up...or if I just leave that rental car where it is...they might suspect I was tipped off about the threat and that puts Callen and Deeks in trouble too."
"What if they try and shoot you again?" She asked. "I was just starting to like you."
"Don't go gettin' all soft on me girl," he smiled. "That ain't you."
"Okay...but, what about the rental car?"
"No way they leave it wired if I don't come back," he reasoned. "And I don't think they'll keep up surveillance all night and into the morning."
"You're way too trusting," she said. "I'll have one of my assets check for the bomb before the sun comes up."
"What if they see him?"
"He looks like a homeless guy," she replied. "No way they make him if they're still watching."
"Deeks is gonna love this story," he said, nodding his agreement.
"Let's just hope White doesn't fire me for having a fling with a guy from the DOJ," she laughed.
"Might ruin your reputation and put a crimp in our intel gathering," Sam replied.
"It will definitely get me questioned," she said. "So you might want to worry about your own reputation, Dumpling."
"As long as you confirm to Director White that his position isn't in jeopardy," Sam replied. "You can sully Franklin S. Goodman's reputation any way you want."
"This should be fun."
"Unless they really do try and shoot me again."
"Spoilsport."
...
...
Joe woke from a restless sleep when the wheels locked into place as the plane prepared to land at the Laramie Regional Airport. His fever had risen during the flight and he was feeling uncomfortable and weak, drained by constantly fighting the onslaught of memories of snarling dogs and high-pitched screams. His time alone in the swamps of Louisiana never left his mind and he couldn't shake the feeling of desperation that still clung to him like the ever-present slime of algae. He had longed for home. It had kept him sane. It had kept him moving, searching for escape, for survival, anxious to see his family. When the plane finally came to a stop, he let out a long sigh, closing his eyes and trying to believe his long nightmare was over.
The medical personnel Hetty had onboard had been kind, but were starting to get on his nerves. He had welcomed the drugs though. They helped him manage the lingering pain in his arm and dulled his anxiety, but his concern for Deeks and Callen stalked his dreams and even though he was now awake, he found it hard not to fear for them. He forced himself to look out the window, the wide expanse of grasslands easing some of the turmoil that had been with him for so long. He felt a hand lightly touch his arm and looked up into the eyes of the co-pilot, who handed him a phone.
"Welcome home, Mr. Atwood. I hope you're feeling better," Hetty said softly. "However, I'm afraid there's been a slight change of plans."
Joe was jolted by the news, suddenly worried he wouldn't be allowed to stay here, but calmed down quickly as he listened to her explanation.
"I am probably being overly cautious, but I feel you deserve that," she went on. "I thought a bit of subterfuge was in order in case your wife and father were being tracked by these bastards. I arranged for another plane, which landed an hour ago. It was transporting a very elaborate casket and was greeted by George and Diane and an honor guard and taken to a local funeral home. I thought we should let this play all the way out, just to be safe."
"Thank you Hetty," he said with a knowing smile. "Do I get a twenty one gun salute too?"
"Not yet. We're saving it for the graveside service," she replied.
"God, I hope you're kidding," he said with a shiver.
"I'm hoping we don't have to take things quite that far," she laughed.
"Me too."
"After my little side show, I thought you might appreciate a couple of familiar faces to welcome your arrival, and help throw off any suspicion as to your identity," she said. "They got in last night and wanted to help."
Warm tears filled his eyes as he looked up to see Lily and Soldier come through the door of the plane. The boy looked deeply concerned, but Lily smiled encouragement as she leaned over and kissed him on both cheeks.
"It is so good to see you, mon chér," Lily whispered as she held his face. "Elan called...he said you were still running a fever. How are you feeling?"
"Alive," he responded softly.
"Soldier is very worried about you," she said, stepping aside so the boy could greet him.
He hadn't seen Elan's son since Christmas and he was looking forward to reconnecting with him. Soldier was just about to turn thirteen, and had lost some of his awkwardness, now moving as gracefully as his father. He hesitated as he approached, looking him over carefully, his dark turbulent eyes fixing on the heavy bandage and sling around his arm. Before he left the hospital, Elan had shared with him just how much his disappearance had upset the boy. There was an intensity about him now and he knew he would have to be honest with him, or lose some of the trust that had built up between them. The boy hated to be lied to and Joe had become too used to lies.
"Your hair's a lot longer," Joe said with a smile.
"Does it still hurt?" Soldier asked, ignoring the pleasantries as he was inclined to do.
"Yeah, it sure as hell does," he acknowledged.
"Will it get better?" He asked. "Will you be able to ride?"
"It's going to take awhile, kid," he said softly. "But soon as I'm able, I'm looking forward to getting up on a horse."
"Grandpa Jim's got an old mare you can ride," he said, his face softening with encouragement. "She won't be no trouble."
"I'm not that beat up," Joe snorted, wondering if he was denying the truth to make the kid feel better.
"You were gone a long time," Soldier said quietly. "I'm glad you're not dead."
"Me too, kid...me too," Joe forced out a laugh and the kid finally smiled a little.
"We brought you a wide brimmed cowboy hat," Lily said. "If someone is watching us it will hide most of your face. Can you walk on your own?"
He nodded, appreciating her no-nonsense attention to detail. She was a beautiful woman, kind and understanding, especially with Soldier, and sometimes he had to remind himself she was French Intelligence. Elan was a damn lucky man. She was undoubtedly armed, although in the tight bluejeans and form fitting peach colored tee shirt she wore, he had no idea where she was keeping her gun. She smiled as he looked at her, reading him easily.
"It's in my boot, mom ami," she said, smiling softly as she handed him a gray Stetson.
The two EMTs helped him get on his feet, but Soldier stepped up to steady him.
"Papa told me to take care of you," the boy said, looking very possessive as he pushed between the two doctors. "You can lean on me."
"Thanks," Joe replied, finally letting himself relax as he wrapped his arm around the kid's shoulder. "You're almost as tall as I am."
"Mimi loved cooking for him," Lily said. "He has grown to love French food, especially the apple tarts she makes. I think he grew a few inches while he was in Normandy."
"Hear you can speak a little French," Joe said as they stood at the top of the stairs of the jet.
"Seulement in peu, Uncle Joe," Soldier said with his first real smile of the day.
"Show off," Joe teased.
When they made it down to the tarmac, an SUV pulled up and he turned to shake hands with the two men who had attended him on the flight. He hadn't been a very good patient and he apologized for that. When he was finally settled in the back of the car, Soldier jumped in beside him and Lily rode shotgun, literally, and although he had no idea who the man was driving, he felt safe and the sting of sudden tears surprised him.
"Do we have to go to the hospital?" He asked. "Can't I just go home to the ranch?"
"Hetty wants you to get checked out by the medical staff first," the unknown driver said firmly.
"You know Hetty?" He asked.
"He is one of Hetty's independent contractors," Lily said. "But, I vetted him myself."
"If you have to spend the night, I'll find a way to sneak your wife and father into the hospital," the man assured him.
"Do you have a name?" Joe asked, wary of the man and not bothering to sound civil.
"You can call me Billy," he said. "And you can trust me. I got your back, man."
"I'm assuming you owe Hetty for something," he said wearily, growing tired of the game.
"Nothing you have to worry about," he replied. "Just take it easy and let me do my job."
"Okay," Joe said, finding he really didn't give a shit who this fucker was.
He found he was tired of all of it...the aliases...the classified information you had to protect with your life...the constant vigilance...being alone and far from the people he loved. He had been proud to serve his country, but he'd been doing this for a very long time and he was exhausted and incredibly pissed off. Maybe he was done with the FBI. Maybe it was time to be with his family instead of saving everyone else's...to be there when his second child was born, not off on a some mission like he was when Chris was born.
"Want me to tell you about the horses?" Soldier asked quietly, seeming to sense his melancholy.
"Yeah, kid...and the dogs too," Joe said, leaning against the boy as he began to talk.
Soldier's voice was soothing, his knowledge of horses making him smile, knowing how much his father and uncle must love teaching such a willing student. The ranch was a special place to grow up and Soldier had taken all of it to his heart. He talked of riding Deeks' mare Sheila and helping George train her foal Ruthie, who had turned into a beautiful bay filly with white stockings and a thin blaze of white down her face. The boy lit up when he spoke of his own horse Sarge, a wildly patterned brown and white paint the boy swore could beat any horse on the ranch in a race.
It all sounded so familiar and comforting as he listened to a story about how the older dogs, Toby and Stinker had banded together to ward off the playful antics of the younger ones, Deeks' Boo and Soldier's rescue dog, a black greyhound he'd named Angel. The more he talked the more Joe longed to be there, to forget all the days he had lived with fear and pain, to worry only about making sure his wife was taking care of herself and teaching his own young son about life on a ranch. He wanted to hold him in front of him as he rode down to the creek, to hear him giggle with little boy joy as a trout leaped out of the water, to hold his wife close and feel the new life she was carrying. He couldn't wait to experience the solitude of the place, with people he loved and who loved him in return. He didn't want to wait. He wanted his life back and he wanted it now.
"Take me to the ranch," he demanded.
"Those are not my orders, man," Billy responded.
"You think I give a flying fuck about your orders?" Snapping out his irritation without regret. "I don't work for Hetty and I'm sure as hell not taking orders from you, whatever the fuck your name is. Now, take me to the ranch or stop the car and get the hell out."
"I'll take it from here, Billy," Lily said calmly, putting her hand on the man's arm. "Hetty will understand."
The man only hesitated for a moment, stopping the car and getting out, instantly pulling his phone as Lily walked around and got in the driver's seat. She caught Joe's eye in the rearview mirror and smiled softly before gunning the engine and tearing back into traffic.
"Hold on, Uncle Joe. She drives like a crazy person," Soldier laughed as if they were on a great adventure.
He simply smiled and then turned to watch the passing landscape, the waving grasses now yellow from the summer sun. The subtle movement of the car as Lily roared up Snowy Range Road lulled him and he finally allowed himself to slide into a restful sleep, waking occasionally whenever Lily cussed out another driver in French, always getting a snort of laughter from Soldier, who obviously understood. He was happy she had chosen the long way, and stayed awake when they climbed up into the mountains above Centennial. There was still snow on the high peaks and he found he was excited to see them again, the aromatic smell of the forestland refreshing after his time slogging through bayous. The high winding road rocked him back to sleep and he didn't wake until they were headed into Saratoga.
"Would you mind if we stop for a minute? We've been on the road almost two hours," Lily asked.
"How fast were you going? I've never made that drive under two and a half hours," he said as she pulled up in front of Lovejoy's Bar and Grill.
"There was no traffic, mon ami," she shrugged as she got out. "You forget, I drive in Paris."
"Don't ever ride with her in Paris, Uncle Joe," Soldier whispered.
"I'll just wait here. Not exactly dressed for being out in public," he said, looking down at the blue hospital scrubs he was wearing.
"Want me to bring you a piece of pie?" Soldier asked. "Mrs. Lovejoy always brings us one of her daughter's pies when she comes to see Grandpa George. They're real good."
"Kate Lovejoy?" Joe asked, with a spreading smile. "Isn't that the breeder Dad got Boo from?"
"She enjoys your father's company," Lily said with a knowing smirk. "They are very sweet together."
"I'll be damned," Joe laughed. "I've been away too long."
"Yes you have, mon chér," Lily said gently. "Now rest. We will be right back."
He'd forgotten what a nice little town Saratoga was. He and his brother Christopher had spent a lot of nights in the cafes and bars here when they were young, meeting friends and trying to pick up girls. It had been a good place to grow up. Small and homey, where everybody knew everyone. It was a good place to raise a family and he wondered what it would be like to do that, to live here again, to be a normal person, free of the fear you wouldn't come home after a long day. Maybe it was time. Maybe being at the ranch would give him time to think and to talk with his family about it. He was tired of pretending to be someone else, exhausted by the need to pretend he was as depraved as the men he sought to bring to justice. He wasn't sure he could do it any longer...wasn't sure he wanted to.
His head was spinning by the time Lily and Soldier returned, but he couldn't help but smile at the huge slice of pie the boy eagerly presented to him. He hadn't really been hungry, but the smell of tart rhubarb and sweet strawberries made him change his mind. Soldier held the paper plate as he ate, listening to him talk about Normandy while he savored the pie, relaxing as they headed out of town on Little Jack Creek Road. Familiar landmarks whipped past, reminding him of simpler times, giving him a sense that this was where he belonged. By the time they turned off onto the ranch road he was becoming anxious to see Diane and little Chris. With Lily driving he didn't have to wait long, the fences rushing past and the tops of the cottonwoods around the barn coming into view. He was excited when he saw the house and the horses lining the fence, his heart beginning to pound, unaware that he was crying.
"Are you okay Uncle Joe?" Soldier asked, lightly gripping his shoulder.
"Yeah...I am now," he choked out. "It hasn't changed a bit."
Lily honked as she slowed and came to a stop in the driveway. Boo and Angel bayed as they jumped down from the porch to greet them, followed by the older dogs, Stinker limping slightly and Toby, the cattle dog taking a little longer to get down the steps. All of them milled around his legs when he got out and he reached down to greet them, happier than he'd been in a couple of months.
"Son?" George called out as he slammed out of the door and hurried to his side. "Aren't you supposed to be in the hospital?"
His father wrapped him in a far gentler hug than was normal for him, but he cherished it nonetheless. Uncle Jim appeared and silently gripped his shoulder, his solid presence such a familiar comfort.
"Joe?" Diane stood frozen on the porch, while his son wiggled free of her arms and tottered down the stairs, and he knelt to pull the little boy close.
"Daddy," Chris giggled happily. "Daddy home."
...
...