Third Party Ripoff 2/5
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC17
Words: 4,200/19,400
Warnings: Violence, minor character death, blood, drugs, spies, slash, sexual innuendo and more if I feel like it
Disclaimer: Slavery is bad and I am a liar. The title is actually a La Femme Nikita episode on which inspired this verse to a certain degree, knowledge of the show is completely not necessary though. I just took its feeling.
Summary: Jared Padalecki works covert operations for the CIA. When he is sent to investigate the involvement of a drug cartel in the financing of international terrorism he finds himself in the lion’s den. The only person who seems to be on his side is the scary but very intriguing arms dealer Jensen. But things are not what they seem.
This belongs to the SecretOperations!verse. It’s the first story in the timeline and can therefore be read as a stand-alone fic as well. Those who have not yet read Mandatory Refusal should do so AFTER having read this, to keep the surprises coming.
Master Post
>> TRAILER VIDEO by mangacat201
previous part
Part Two
They stood there in a strangely companionable silence while Jared tried to muster his courage to dig a little deeper while strategizing how to do so without setting Jensen’s alarms off.
“Okay… so, since I seem to be stuck somewhere in the middle of this…” He swallowed as Jensen looked at him, interest for where Jared was headed shining in those amazingly green eyes. “How do you fit in here? You’re some kind of smuggler?”
Jensen cocked his head and pursed his lips. “Some kind of, yeah. Most people call me an arms dealer. But if the pay is right, I traffic everything and anything wherever you like.”
Jared nodded, filing the information. “Like drugs.”
“Like drugs, money, animals, people, helicopters… anything you can think of.”
Jared’s eyebrows rose slightly impressed. “Looks like you know your way around.”
“Oh, I know my way around a lot more things than you think, Jay.”
Jared stood perplexed. Had Jensen just winked at him? Holy shit. If he lived to see the next day, if he lived to be part of this whole ordeal, he knew at this moment that there was a lot in store for him. He just wasn’t sure whether this was a good or a bad thing.
“James?”
Jared looked across the room where Lauren Cohan - shit, how could he have forgotten the fact that he was still in the same room as Lauren fucking Cohan? - was holding he cell phone out for him. “They want to talk to you.”
Jared swallowed and walked over, accepting her phone. “Yes?”
There was a lot of talk. The essence being that Jared was indeed expected to take over Richard’s job here. Since Jensen was a new variable in the game Jared’s first job was to accompany the first shipment himself, keeping an eye on Jensen’s operation and making sure they were not played for fools.
Jared wasn’t sure how that should exactly work, since he was alone and had no way of enforcing anything upon Jensen. But then he was probably just expected to report regularly. If he didn’t report anymore, they’d probably send the wet work guys and file this project as an attempt ending with an error. It was anything but encouraging to Jared, and he would probably have considered calling his handler to get him the fuck out of this, were he to accompany anybody but Jensen.
Jared was good at reading people, and his instincts told him that Jensen had a liking for him, although he was still debating exactly how deep that linking really went. When the call disconnected, Jared found himself alone with Jensen. Lauren had left already, and Jared frowned at the cell phone still clutched in his hand.
“She said you can keep it. She got dozens of clean phones. You can use it to keep in touch with your bosses, so they don’t hunt your ass down.”
It would take Jared some time to get used to Jensen’s nonchalant way of talking about people’s lives. Obviously, he would have that time now.
“The first shipment comes in at 10.30 tonight.” Jared had been given strict directions.
Jensen grinned at him. “Good.”
+++
The docks smelled like the salt and the fish of the day, a soft breeze blowing into port from the bay. Only a few seagulls were to be heard, since the sun had started to set half an hour ago. The falling summer night was warm and could not explain the chill creeping through Jared’s limbs as he walked next to Jensen along the pier, towards an inconspicuous fishing freighter. He was nervous and didn’t really try to hide it. For Jared Padalecki this was an unexpected turn that could lead him a lot further into the operations of drugs, guns and money than he could ever have hoped for. But for former dealer James, it was a thing of life and death as well as a lot of money. Jared was nervous, and James should be nervous.
The crates sitting on the dock seemed harmless enough, and nothing gave any indication that there was any fishy business going down here tonight, pun intended. Of course, Jared knew better than that. It was a weird comfort to be with Jensen. The man oozed an air of confidence that made nobody question him being there. The expensive looking leather jacket had been shed for a soft and washed out flannel shirt, that covered up the arsenal the man was carrying, and made him look like he belonged here.
They walked in silence until they reached the ship Jared had been given instructions for and Jensen jumped onto the steps leading on board.
“So how’s this gonna go down?” Jared asked, more to satisfy the nervous need to break the silence than anything else. He knew the general plan, and it was not unusual to keep him in the dark about all the details that didn’t include his personal involvement. Criminals didn’t stay out of prison without a certain amount of paranoia.
“We get the drugs. I make sure they get into the right hands, and that the right people get what they bargained for. Your job is to make sure that I don’t fuck anyone over… or rather that I will fuck over anyone but your bosses,” Jensen stated matter of factly. He didn’t seem to be bothered by the level of distrust towards his end of the deal and didn’t even try to persuade Jared to believe him to be at all trustworthy to begin with. It was a sign of self-confidence which led Jared to believe that Jensen was either very good at what he did or very bold - probably a bit of both.
“You make it sound pretty simple.” He followed Jensen over the eerily quiet deck.
“Things get complicated all by themselves. No need for me to add to it.” The man’s smile was loose and oddly relaxed, but Jared could see the tiniest tension in his shoulders as his eyes skimmed their dark surroundings casually.
They were playing a dangerous game.
+++
“So, this Jensen person… will he be your in?”
Jared shifted his second cell phone - because when one is a spy it is a very bad idea to give the bad guys the number you are calling home with - on his ear and checked for anybody who might be eavesdropping. “Maybe. He already saved me about a year of ass kissing to get higher up on the ladder. But he’s playing a dangerous game, and I think when push comes to shove, I got to hold on tight or I’ll end up as collateral.”
“Then make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Jared rolled his eyes. Sometimes he wondered why he even had a handler at the home office if all he got was fortune cookie advice, and them stating the obvious.
“I will.”
“Do what you have to. You know what we need. How you will get it is yours to figure out.”
He sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I’ll put a bow on it just for you.” He hung up, closing the safe line that had taken him half the morning to set up. Sometimes he wondered at how ungrateful his higher-ups could be. The fact that he had gotten into a deal needing an intermediate like Lauren Cohan should be a big deal. It probably was. They just didn’t admit it.
He switched off the phone and pocketed it, before making his way to where Jensen had told him to meet. Jared didn’t know why the other man was so willing to let Jared tag along for most of the operation, and it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. But this whole opportunity was like a gift horse, and he had worked too hard on getting here to back out without reason.
+++
Jensen looked like the cat that just ate the canary, content and extremely self satisfied. It was a scary look on a guy who was leaning against a four foot stack of wooden crates filled with automatic rifles. Jared didn’t even have to fake his unease and surprise. He looked around nervously, checking that nobody else happened to walk by and stumble over the two suspicious looking men with the heavy artillery.
“Wow, you really weren’t kidding when you said you were an arms dealer.”
Jensen shrugged, lifting one of the heavy guns from its position in the open topped crate and going through the motions of checking the mechanics. The loud clicking sound of the slide was as noisy as Jared remembered. “Everybody has their favourite currency. For some it’s US dollars or pounds. For me it’s firepower. A good gun always gets a good price.”
“I thought we were selling drugs for money?”
Jensen shrugged and clicked the safety back on before putting the rifle back to its original place. “We are. But things aren’t that easy. There are more parties in this than just two. See, Jay, your ‘company’…” He actually accentuated the word with his fingers and a fake smile. “… sells drugs for money. You don’t need me for that. But to do so, you need the drugs first, and not the cheap stuff that you are throwing on the streets, but the pure shit that you can punch, until it’s nothing but baking powder, so you can make a healthy profit. Now most of the really good drugs are products of the labor of people who appreciate guns as a currency very much, people who sell their merchandise to finance their own little war. If they have to exchange the drugs for money to then exchange the cash for fire power, that just involves more people in their operation than necessary. People are lazy and distrustful. If you can bring in all your purchases in only one transaction, you will do it.”
“Which means that we pay money for drugs, but you pay our suppliers with weapons instead.”
He shrugged innocently, letting it all filter through. It was an easy enough process. His investigation had started out at the drug end of the operation, because that was easy to infiltrate. But the interesting part was the suppliers who sold the pure drugs to pay for guns for their war. He had taken a step closer to his goal. But now he was stuck in the middle, and there were few places as uncomfortable as between two crazy professional wrestlers. Thinking that either of the two parties wouldn’t screw the other one over in a heartbeat if it would be either profitable, or if they felt betrayed, would be beyond naïve. He wondered how Jensen could seem so comfortable being the middle man in this.
“Stop frowning and grab a crate, Jay. We have a bargain to uphold.” Jensen shut the top crate and walked to an unmarked truck waiting patiently a few yards away and slid open the cargo area.
“Shouldn’t you have people to do the heavy lifting for you?” Jared grabbed the first crate and started loading it into the truck.
“I do.” The evil grin Jared got made him groan as he grabbed the next crate, thankful that Jensen’s kick from their first meeting had actually not broken his wrist. It had been a close call though and lugging around heavy boxes was not helping with the painful swelling he still had. Damn that man.
+++
Driving an illegal weapons transport across half the country - any country - was not something Jared saw himself doing, until he was seated on the passenger seat while Jensen turned the extra long vehicle onto the street leading away from the port in a close backward arch. Too bad a close arch for this vehicle could still swallow a basketball court. Jared watched him handle the stick shift of the massive truck with well practiced ease, and he wondered how long Jensen had been doing this kind of thing. Considering Jensen’s role in this game of money, drugs and arms, he must have had quite a bit of experience. Without a good reputation - what counted as a good reputation in those circles was probably more like a three inch file with Interpol than a recommendation by the chaplain - someone like Lauren Cohan would not bring him in. He wondered what Jensen’s story was.
“So, what’s your story, Jay?”
Jared’s head snapped towards the man, who was sitting behind the wheel not even looking at him as he guided the heavy vehicle along the street. Obviously Jensen had no problem asking the questions Jared only asked in his own head.
“My story?”
“Yeah. How did you get to meddle with business like this?” Jared didn’t answer. Jensen did not really want an answer to that, did he? Their line of work was not the talkative kind. “Oh come on, you can’t really expect me to let you in on my business without getting to know you.” This time Jensen threw him a glance that was challenging, and Jared took a deep breath. This was going to be a long drive.
He shrugged, wondering how much of his cover story he was supposed to give away. “I needed money. I worked my way up from running errands… I guess I am good at keeping my mouth shut.” That didn’t really say anything, and he knew that. If Jensen wanted more, he’d have to ask more. “Oh, and my favorite color is blue, and I like rainbows and kittens.”
If Jensen hadn’t started laughing at the last comment, Jared might have felt uneasy when the other man said: “You’re a wise ass, you know that?”
“So I’ve been told.”
Silence stretched for a minute or two, before Jensen looked at him with a hard and unwavering gaze. The hair at the back of Jared’s neck stood on end when his eyes met green steel. “Tell me just one thing, Jay. Are you a user? Do I need to keep an eye on my merchandise when you are around?”
So that was what Jensen wanted to know. Jared had wondered at the missing distrust, and it was almost a relief to find that he had been right to expect more of it. The good thing was that this was something Jared could score in. He shrugged off his jacket and stretched his bare arms out to Jensen, exposing the big veins of his arms to inspection. There were no scars of recent or extensive injections.
“I sell the shit, I don’t use it. It’s bad for business.”
Jensen’s eyes skimmed over the naked skin of Jared’s offered arms, and he nodded. “Fair enough. But there are enough other placed you can place a fix.”
Laughing it off was the best strategy Jared could come up with. “What? You want me to take off my pants, too, or something?”
It was meant to lighten the mood. But instead Jensen’s eyebrows rose up, as did one side of his mouth, in what could only be described as a leering grin. It was kinda hot and scary as hell. “You can take off anything you want with me, Jay. You don’t need any excuses for that.”
Jared swallowed. He'd wondered if Jensen was flirting with him - if such a blatant come-on could still be called flirting at all - because he enjoyed watching Jared squirm. It was hard to believe that Jensen was serious. Part of Jared still wished he were, though. He could admit that Jensen was exactly his type, even though it would be really stupid to get attached. Jared had a job to do, and Jensen was on the wrong side of the law.
+++
It was several hours of meaningless conversation, not to mention meaningful silence, later when Jensen pulled the truck onto a much too small dirt road in the middle of nowhere. Jared just hoped that it hadn’t rained the night before, or they would sink in like the Romans in the swamp of Teuteburg. He didn’t voice his concerns though. They surely hadn’t taken that turn, because Jensen had got lost. This was part of their job.
The vehicle was swaying and jangling up and down dangerously as it ploughed along the dirt road. Jared hadn’t known Jensen longer than a day, but the rising tension in the man’s shoulders as well as the alertness of his eyes skimming the woods around them were obvious to him.
“Should I be worried?”
Jensen’s eyes skipped to him for no longer than a second. “No.” He reached under his seat and retrieved a semi automatic gun, holding it out to Jared. “But you can keep your eyes open.”
Okay, so that was not a way of not making Jared nervous, but he didn’t voice it. Instead he grabbed the gun, checking the magazine and loading the first bullet into the chamber with an audible click. The comforting weight of the gun made his breathing slow. Aiming while panting was a great way of pulling a shot.
Green eyes narrowed for a moment as Jensen watched him out of the corner of his gaze. Then a small smile pulled on the side of Jensen’s lips, and Jared could practically feel the man’s approval wash over him. Jensen had measured him, and he had been found worthy. This was one step forward. All Jared could hope for now was to not get shot before that step might pay off.
With snail like pace, the truck crawled along the ragged path, until Jensen pulled the wheel sideways to lead the vehicle into a clearing that was unexpectedly spacious. There were three jeeps, much more useful for off-road navigation than their massive transporter, parked in a semi-circle facing them and Jared’s grip of the gun tightened with the finger on the trigger. Five men were visible carrying automatic guns, and wearing a variety of boots, and cargo pants, rugged scarves and sunglasses. The really high class villains could not be made out by their appearance, they looked unsuspicious, maybe just a little boring. Still, sometimes Jared wanted to laugh at just how clichéd some goons could look. Obviously terrorists watched TV too.
Jensen let their truck roll into the middle of the clearing while giving Jared some last minute instructions. “This is how things go down. I am the negotiator, you are the muscle.” Jared was pretty sure that Jensen was his own muscle, especially since the man had just put away two handguns in the holster under his jacket with practiced nonchalance. “We give them the truck, they give us the drugs. We all walk away. If they don’t walk away, there’s two hand grenades under your seat. Pocket them.” As Jared did so without question even though he really hoped he wouldn't have to use them, Jensen switched off the engine and opened his door. “Get out and look intimidating… but not so much that they’ll shoot you, okay?”
Jared nodded and shoved the grenades - holy shit - into the pockets of his coat before mirroring Jensen and getting out of the truck, gun in hand. The other party had their muscle obviously armed, so they could do the same. Jared just wished that his gun were bigger. Those Uzis had a lot more bullets in them than his semi-automatic.
“Good morning, gentlemen.” Jensen’s smile was as charming as they come, and he looked terribly bored by all the weapons pointing his direction. “I have a truckload of illegal guns here… anybody interested?”
Their business partners seemed like the silent type. The door of the middle jeep opened to reveal a small man with black hair and tan skin. He looked less like a Half-Life reject and more like a sleek criminal. He nodded at one of the goons who lowered his rifle, slinging it over his shoulder before stepping up.
“Show me.”
It was impossible to make out the accent accurately from only these two words, but if these men worked for the people Jared was aiming for, he already knew the region - if not country - they came from. Jensen shot Jared a look that urged him to keep a close eye on them as he nodded, all the humor of his greeting forgotten, leading the man to the back door of the cargo space. The two men disappeared inside, Jensen undoubtedly showing the merchandise to their buyer. Jared wasn’t worried about not having Jensen’s back while they were out of sight. The man could handle one goon with a weapon that was very unhandy in close quarters like the back of a truck. He had to worry about everybody else instead.
When the men re-emerged, Jensen was carrying one of the biggest caliber rifles they had loaded onto the truck - Jared should know, he had loaded them in and had checked every case for its content. The goons seemed wary at Jensen bringing out the big artillery, but in this kind of business, trust was rare, and control was better. As soon as Jared had heard that they would trade in firepower, he'd known there had to be a demonstration. He just hoped that he wouldn’t be the test dummy. But somehow he didn’t think Jensen would kill him. This trust was irrational, but it kept his heart rate manageable, and that was enough reason to keep it.
Jensen presented the gun like he was modeling for the NRA equivalent of the spring collection of Prada purses. He made a show of popping in the magazine and loading. “Your boy got to choose any gun from any of the crates.” A lopsided grin formed on his face, looking morbid combined with the metallic clicking of the weapon. “He’s a real Rambo.” Or maybe he had small hands, Jared’s inner bitch supplied willingly.
When he was satisfied with the effect of his little show, Jensen raised the rifle to his shoulder aiming to the left of the group. Jared followed his gaze and only then saw that there were three white balloons pinned to trees at different distances in the woods. Jensen took his sweet time aiming before pulling the trigger. The bang that ensued was deafening. Big calibers did that. The nearest balloon popped to hang in loose rubber rags from the bark. There was a big hole in the wood and Jared would not be surprised if the bullet had come out on the other side again. The tree was shaking from the impact, leafy branches quivering nervously. The casing of the bullet hit the ground next to Jensen with a light jingle. “This baby can cover a lot of ground. You can shoot the guy, before he even smells you anywhere near. It has enough power to go through a wall, a car or a protective vest.”
Jared watched as Jensen got gracefully to the ground, lying in a classic sniper position. He aimed for long moment, breath going slowly. On the third exhale, he pulled the trigger and the balloon farthest away popped just like the first. Jensen got off the ground, not caring to dust off his clothes, rather lugging the heavy rifle up in both arms. “A trained sniper can take out pretty much everything with this baby. It’s half automatic with very short loading time. You can drop people like flies with it. He raised the rife again, pulling the trigger three times in rapid succession. Bang, bang, bang. Three trees at the edge of the clearing erupted as their bark splintered away one after the other.
“The only problem with a gun this size is that it takes a giant to shoot and walk at the same time. Everyone short of my friend Jay here will need both feet on the ground to stop from being thrown onto their asses by the backlash.” Jared tried to keep a cool face upon that comment. He had taken on the role of the muscle easily. He stood there and looked every inch as tall and bulky as he was. He had at least three inches on every man here, and it seemed to pay off. “But, for that, I have two cases of Kalashnikovs in there as well.”
The inspection of their merchandise only took ten minutes after Jensen closed his sales pitch, and Jared was relieved when he saw the boss nod at the goons. The drugs were a lot less spectacular than the guns, but the bag they were handed was quite the package when it came to merchandise that ordinary people only saw in the dimensions of grams. Jensen smelled the powder and put a dash of it against the tip of his tongue. It seemed to be satisfactory, and Jared let out a relieved sigh when one of the goons got behind the wheel of their truck and reversed out of the clearing, followed by the black jeeps.
His sigh was hardly audible, but there were other concerns to be dealt with. “How the hell do we get out of here now, with a bag full of illegal narcotics and no car?”
Jensen’s smile was half annoying and half intriguing. “We don’t need a car.” He held up his cell phone and pressed speed dial. Jared could only shake his head with an exasperated chuckle when the chopper landed in the clearing not sixty seconds later. Jensen had style, that much was for sure.
...next part...
That's it for today. I hope you liked it! *hugs*
Birdie
Rating: NC17
Words: 4,200/19,400
Warnings: Violence, minor character death, blood, drugs, spies, slash, sexual innuendo and more if I feel like it
Disclaimer: Slavery is bad and I am a liar. The title is actually a La Femme Nikita episode on which inspired this verse to a certain degree, knowledge of the show is completely not necessary though. I just took its feeling.
Summary: Jared Padalecki works covert operations for the CIA. When he is sent to investigate the involvement of a drug cartel in the financing of international terrorism he finds himself in the lion’s den. The only person who seems to be on his side is the scary but very intriguing arms dealer Jensen. But things are not what they seem.
This belongs to the SecretOperations!verse. It’s the first story in the timeline and can therefore be read as a stand-alone fic as well. Those who have not yet read Mandatory Refusal should do so AFTER having read this, to keep the surprises coming.
Master Post
>> TRAILER VIDEO by mangacat201
previous part
Part Two
They stood there in a strangely companionable silence while Jared tried to muster his courage to dig a little deeper while strategizing how to do so without setting Jensen’s alarms off.
“Okay… so, since I seem to be stuck somewhere in the middle of this…” He swallowed as Jensen looked at him, interest for where Jared was headed shining in those amazingly green eyes. “How do you fit in here? You’re some kind of smuggler?”
Jensen cocked his head and pursed his lips. “Some kind of, yeah. Most people call me an arms dealer. But if the pay is right, I traffic everything and anything wherever you like.”
Jared nodded, filing the information. “Like drugs.”
“Like drugs, money, animals, people, helicopters… anything you can think of.”
Jared’s eyebrows rose slightly impressed. “Looks like you know your way around.”
“Oh, I know my way around a lot more things than you think, Jay.”
Jared stood perplexed. Had Jensen just winked at him? Holy shit. If he lived to see the next day, if he lived to be part of this whole ordeal, he knew at this moment that there was a lot in store for him. He just wasn’t sure whether this was a good or a bad thing.
“James?”
Jared looked across the room where Lauren Cohan - shit, how could he have forgotten the fact that he was still in the same room as Lauren fucking Cohan? - was holding he cell phone out for him. “They want to talk to you.”
Jared swallowed and walked over, accepting her phone. “Yes?”
There was a lot of talk. The essence being that Jared was indeed expected to take over Richard’s job here. Since Jensen was a new variable in the game Jared’s first job was to accompany the first shipment himself, keeping an eye on Jensen’s operation and making sure they were not played for fools.
Jared wasn’t sure how that should exactly work, since he was alone and had no way of enforcing anything upon Jensen. But then he was probably just expected to report regularly. If he didn’t report anymore, they’d probably send the wet work guys and file this project as an attempt ending with an error. It was anything but encouraging to Jared, and he would probably have considered calling his handler to get him the fuck out of this, were he to accompany anybody but Jensen.
Jared was good at reading people, and his instincts told him that Jensen had a liking for him, although he was still debating exactly how deep that linking really went. When the call disconnected, Jared found himself alone with Jensen. Lauren had left already, and Jared frowned at the cell phone still clutched in his hand.
“She said you can keep it. She got dozens of clean phones. You can use it to keep in touch with your bosses, so they don’t hunt your ass down.”
It would take Jared some time to get used to Jensen’s nonchalant way of talking about people’s lives. Obviously, he would have that time now.
“The first shipment comes in at 10.30 tonight.” Jared had been given strict directions.
Jensen grinned at him. “Good.”
+++
The docks smelled like the salt and the fish of the day, a soft breeze blowing into port from the bay. Only a few seagulls were to be heard, since the sun had started to set half an hour ago. The falling summer night was warm and could not explain the chill creeping through Jared’s limbs as he walked next to Jensen along the pier, towards an inconspicuous fishing freighter. He was nervous and didn’t really try to hide it. For Jared Padalecki this was an unexpected turn that could lead him a lot further into the operations of drugs, guns and money than he could ever have hoped for. But for former dealer James, it was a thing of life and death as well as a lot of money. Jared was nervous, and James should be nervous.
The crates sitting on the dock seemed harmless enough, and nothing gave any indication that there was any fishy business going down here tonight, pun intended. Of course, Jared knew better than that. It was a weird comfort to be with Jensen. The man oozed an air of confidence that made nobody question him being there. The expensive looking leather jacket had been shed for a soft and washed out flannel shirt, that covered up the arsenal the man was carrying, and made him look like he belonged here.
They walked in silence until they reached the ship Jared had been given instructions for and Jensen jumped onto the steps leading on board.
“So how’s this gonna go down?” Jared asked, more to satisfy the nervous need to break the silence than anything else. He knew the general plan, and it was not unusual to keep him in the dark about all the details that didn’t include his personal involvement. Criminals didn’t stay out of prison without a certain amount of paranoia.
“We get the drugs. I make sure they get into the right hands, and that the right people get what they bargained for. Your job is to make sure that I don’t fuck anyone over… or rather that I will fuck over anyone but your bosses,” Jensen stated matter of factly. He didn’t seem to be bothered by the level of distrust towards his end of the deal and didn’t even try to persuade Jared to believe him to be at all trustworthy to begin with. It was a sign of self-confidence which led Jared to believe that Jensen was either very good at what he did or very bold - probably a bit of both.
“You make it sound pretty simple.” He followed Jensen over the eerily quiet deck.
“Things get complicated all by themselves. No need for me to add to it.” The man’s smile was loose and oddly relaxed, but Jared could see the tiniest tension in his shoulders as his eyes skimmed their dark surroundings casually.
They were playing a dangerous game.
+++
“So, this Jensen person… will he be your in?”
Jared shifted his second cell phone - because when one is a spy it is a very bad idea to give the bad guys the number you are calling home with - on his ear and checked for anybody who might be eavesdropping. “Maybe. He already saved me about a year of ass kissing to get higher up on the ladder. But he’s playing a dangerous game, and I think when push comes to shove, I got to hold on tight or I’ll end up as collateral.”
“Then make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Jared rolled his eyes. Sometimes he wondered why he even had a handler at the home office if all he got was fortune cookie advice, and them stating the obvious.
“I will.”
“Do what you have to. You know what we need. How you will get it is yours to figure out.”
He sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I’ll put a bow on it just for you.” He hung up, closing the safe line that had taken him half the morning to set up. Sometimes he wondered at how ungrateful his higher-ups could be. The fact that he had gotten into a deal needing an intermediate like Lauren Cohan should be a big deal. It probably was. They just didn’t admit it.
He switched off the phone and pocketed it, before making his way to where Jensen had told him to meet. Jared didn’t know why the other man was so willing to let Jared tag along for most of the operation, and it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. But this whole opportunity was like a gift horse, and he had worked too hard on getting here to back out without reason.
+++
Jensen looked like the cat that just ate the canary, content and extremely self satisfied. It was a scary look on a guy who was leaning against a four foot stack of wooden crates filled with automatic rifles. Jared didn’t even have to fake his unease and surprise. He looked around nervously, checking that nobody else happened to walk by and stumble over the two suspicious looking men with the heavy artillery.
“Wow, you really weren’t kidding when you said you were an arms dealer.”
Jensen shrugged, lifting one of the heavy guns from its position in the open topped crate and going through the motions of checking the mechanics. The loud clicking sound of the slide was as noisy as Jared remembered. “Everybody has their favourite currency. For some it’s US dollars or pounds. For me it’s firepower. A good gun always gets a good price.”
“I thought we were selling drugs for money?”
Jensen shrugged and clicked the safety back on before putting the rifle back to its original place. “We are. But things aren’t that easy. There are more parties in this than just two. See, Jay, your ‘company’…” He actually accentuated the word with his fingers and a fake smile. “… sells drugs for money. You don’t need me for that. But to do so, you need the drugs first, and not the cheap stuff that you are throwing on the streets, but the pure shit that you can punch, until it’s nothing but baking powder, so you can make a healthy profit. Now most of the really good drugs are products of the labor of people who appreciate guns as a currency very much, people who sell their merchandise to finance their own little war. If they have to exchange the drugs for money to then exchange the cash for fire power, that just involves more people in their operation than necessary. People are lazy and distrustful. If you can bring in all your purchases in only one transaction, you will do it.”
“Which means that we pay money for drugs, but you pay our suppliers with weapons instead.”
He shrugged innocently, letting it all filter through. It was an easy enough process. His investigation had started out at the drug end of the operation, because that was easy to infiltrate. But the interesting part was the suppliers who sold the pure drugs to pay for guns for their war. He had taken a step closer to his goal. But now he was stuck in the middle, and there were few places as uncomfortable as between two crazy professional wrestlers. Thinking that either of the two parties wouldn’t screw the other one over in a heartbeat if it would be either profitable, or if they felt betrayed, would be beyond naïve. He wondered how Jensen could seem so comfortable being the middle man in this.
“Stop frowning and grab a crate, Jay. We have a bargain to uphold.” Jensen shut the top crate and walked to an unmarked truck waiting patiently a few yards away and slid open the cargo area.
“Shouldn’t you have people to do the heavy lifting for you?” Jared grabbed the first crate and started loading it into the truck.
“I do.” The evil grin Jared got made him groan as he grabbed the next crate, thankful that Jensen’s kick from their first meeting had actually not broken his wrist. It had been a close call though and lugging around heavy boxes was not helping with the painful swelling he still had. Damn that man.
+++
Driving an illegal weapons transport across half the country - any country - was not something Jared saw himself doing, until he was seated on the passenger seat while Jensen turned the extra long vehicle onto the street leading away from the port in a close backward arch. Too bad a close arch for this vehicle could still swallow a basketball court. Jared watched him handle the stick shift of the massive truck with well practiced ease, and he wondered how long Jensen had been doing this kind of thing. Considering Jensen’s role in this game of money, drugs and arms, he must have had quite a bit of experience. Without a good reputation - what counted as a good reputation in those circles was probably more like a three inch file with Interpol than a recommendation by the chaplain - someone like Lauren Cohan would not bring him in. He wondered what Jensen’s story was.
“So, what’s your story, Jay?”
Jared’s head snapped towards the man, who was sitting behind the wheel not even looking at him as he guided the heavy vehicle along the street. Obviously Jensen had no problem asking the questions Jared only asked in his own head.
“My story?”
“Yeah. How did you get to meddle with business like this?” Jared didn’t answer. Jensen did not really want an answer to that, did he? Their line of work was not the talkative kind. “Oh come on, you can’t really expect me to let you in on my business without getting to know you.” This time Jensen threw him a glance that was challenging, and Jared took a deep breath. This was going to be a long drive.
He shrugged, wondering how much of his cover story he was supposed to give away. “I needed money. I worked my way up from running errands… I guess I am good at keeping my mouth shut.” That didn’t really say anything, and he knew that. If Jensen wanted more, he’d have to ask more. “Oh, and my favorite color is blue, and I like rainbows and kittens.”
If Jensen hadn’t started laughing at the last comment, Jared might have felt uneasy when the other man said: “You’re a wise ass, you know that?”
“So I’ve been told.”
Silence stretched for a minute or two, before Jensen looked at him with a hard and unwavering gaze. The hair at the back of Jared’s neck stood on end when his eyes met green steel. “Tell me just one thing, Jay. Are you a user? Do I need to keep an eye on my merchandise when you are around?”
So that was what Jensen wanted to know. Jared had wondered at the missing distrust, and it was almost a relief to find that he had been right to expect more of it. The good thing was that this was something Jared could score in. He shrugged off his jacket and stretched his bare arms out to Jensen, exposing the big veins of his arms to inspection. There were no scars of recent or extensive injections.
“I sell the shit, I don’t use it. It’s bad for business.”
Jensen’s eyes skimmed over the naked skin of Jared’s offered arms, and he nodded. “Fair enough. But there are enough other placed you can place a fix.”
Laughing it off was the best strategy Jared could come up with. “What? You want me to take off my pants, too, or something?”
It was meant to lighten the mood. But instead Jensen’s eyebrows rose up, as did one side of his mouth, in what could only be described as a leering grin. It was kinda hot and scary as hell. “You can take off anything you want with me, Jay. You don’t need any excuses for that.”
Jared swallowed. He'd wondered if Jensen was flirting with him - if such a blatant come-on could still be called flirting at all - because he enjoyed watching Jared squirm. It was hard to believe that Jensen was serious. Part of Jared still wished he were, though. He could admit that Jensen was exactly his type, even though it would be really stupid to get attached. Jared had a job to do, and Jensen was on the wrong side of the law.
+++
It was several hours of meaningless conversation, not to mention meaningful silence, later when Jensen pulled the truck onto a much too small dirt road in the middle of nowhere. Jared just hoped that it hadn’t rained the night before, or they would sink in like the Romans in the swamp of Teuteburg. He didn’t voice his concerns though. They surely hadn’t taken that turn, because Jensen had got lost. This was part of their job.
The vehicle was swaying and jangling up and down dangerously as it ploughed along the dirt road. Jared hadn’t known Jensen longer than a day, but the rising tension in the man’s shoulders as well as the alertness of his eyes skimming the woods around them were obvious to him.
“Should I be worried?”
Jensen’s eyes skipped to him for no longer than a second. “No.” He reached under his seat and retrieved a semi automatic gun, holding it out to Jared. “But you can keep your eyes open.”
Okay, so that was not a way of not making Jared nervous, but he didn’t voice it. Instead he grabbed the gun, checking the magazine and loading the first bullet into the chamber with an audible click. The comforting weight of the gun made his breathing slow. Aiming while panting was a great way of pulling a shot.
Green eyes narrowed for a moment as Jensen watched him out of the corner of his gaze. Then a small smile pulled on the side of Jensen’s lips, and Jared could practically feel the man’s approval wash over him. Jensen had measured him, and he had been found worthy. This was one step forward. All Jared could hope for now was to not get shot before that step might pay off.
With snail like pace, the truck crawled along the ragged path, until Jensen pulled the wheel sideways to lead the vehicle into a clearing that was unexpectedly spacious. There were three jeeps, much more useful for off-road navigation than their massive transporter, parked in a semi-circle facing them and Jared’s grip of the gun tightened with the finger on the trigger. Five men were visible carrying automatic guns, and wearing a variety of boots, and cargo pants, rugged scarves and sunglasses. The really high class villains could not be made out by their appearance, they looked unsuspicious, maybe just a little boring. Still, sometimes Jared wanted to laugh at just how clichéd some goons could look. Obviously terrorists watched TV too.
Jensen let their truck roll into the middle of the clearing while giving Jared some last minute instructions. “This is how things go down. I am the negotiator, you are the muscle.” Jared was pretty sure that Jensen was his own muscle, especially since the man had just put away two handguns in the holster under his jacket with practiced nonchalance. “We give them the truck, they give us the drugs. We all walk away. If they don’t walk away, there’s two hand grenades under your seat. Pocket them.” As Jared did so without question even though he really hoped he wouldn't have to use them, Jensen switched off the engine and opened his door. “Get out and look intimidating… but not so much that they’ll shoot you, okay?”
Jared nodded and shoved the grenades - holy shit - into the pockets of his coat before mirroring Jensen and getting out of the truck, gun in hand. The other party had their muscle obviously armed, so they could do the same. Jared just wished that his gun were bigger. Those Uzis had a lot more bullets in them than his semi-automatic.
“Good morning, gentlemen.” Jensen’s smile was as charming as they come, and he looked terribly bored by all the weapons pointing his direction. “I have a truckload of illegal guns here… anybody interested?”
Their business partners seemed like the silent type. The door of the middle jeep opened to reveal a small man with black hair and tan skin. He looked less like a Half-Life reject and more like a sleek criminal. He nodded at one of the goons who lowered his rifle, slinging it over his shoulder before stepping up.
“Show me.”
It was impossible to make out the accent accurately from only these two words, but if these men worked for the people Jared was aiming for, he already knew the region - if not country - they came from. Jensen shot Jared a look that urged him to keep a close eye on them as he nodded, all the humor of his greeting forgotten, leading the man to the back door of the cargo space. The two men disappeared inside, Jensen undoubtedly showing the merchandise to their buyer. Jared wasn’t worried about not having Jensen’s back while they were out of sight. The man could handle one goon with a weapon that was very unhandy in close quarters like the back of a truck. He had to worry about everybody else instead.
When the men re-emerged, Jensen was carrying one of the biggest caliber rifles they had loaded onto the truck - Jared should know, he had loaded them in and had checked every case for its content. The goons seemed wary at Jensen bringing out the big artillery, but in this kind of business, trust was rare, and control was better. As soon as Jared had heard that they would trade in firepower, he'd known there had to be a demonstration. He just hoped that he wouldn’t be the test dummy. But somehow he didn’t think Jensen would kill him. This trust was irrational, but it kept his heart rate manageable, and that was enough reason to keep it.
Jensen presented the gun like he was modeling for the NRA equivalent of the spring collection of Prada purses. He made a show of popping in the magazine and loading. “Your boy got to choose any gun from any of the crates.” A lopsided grin formed on his face, looking morbid combined with the metallic clicking of the weapon. “He’s a real Rambo.” Or maybe he had small hands, Jared’s inner bitch supplied willingly.
When he was satisfied with the effect of his little show, Jensen raised the rifle to his shoulder aiming to the left of the group. Jared followed his gaze and only then saw that there were three white balloons pinned to trees at different distances in the woods. Jensen took his sweet time aiming before pulling the trigger. The bang that ensued was deafening. Big calibers did that. The nearest balloon popped to hang in loose rubber rags from the bark. There was a big hole in the wood and Jared would not be surprised if the bullet had come out on the other side again. The tree was shaking from the impact, leafy branches quivering nervously. The casing of the bullet hit the ground next to Jensen with a light jingle. “This baby can cover a lot of ground. You can shoot the guy, before he even smells you anywhere near. It has enough power to go through a wall, a car or a protective vest.”
Jared watched as Jensen got gracefully to the ground, lying in a classic sniper position. He aimed for long moment, breath going slowly. On the third exhale, he pulled the trigger and the balloon farthest away popped just like the first. Jensen got off the ground, not caring to dust off his clothes, rather lugging the heavy rifle up in both arms. “A trained sniper can take out pretty much everything with this baby. It’s half automatic with very short loading time. You can drop people like flies with it. He raised the rife again, pulling the trigger three times in rapid succession. Bang, bang, bang. Three trees at the edge of the clearing erupted as their bark splintered away one after the other.
“The only problem with a gun this size is that it takes a giant to shoot and walk at the same time. Everyone short of my friend Jay here will need both feet on the ground to stop from being thrown onto their asses by the backlash.” Jared tried to keep a cool face upon that comment. He had taken on the role of the muscle easily. He stood there and looked every inch as tall and bulky as he was. He had at least three inches on every man here, and it seemed to pay off. “But, for that, I have two cases of Kalashnikovs in there as well.”
The inspection of their merchandise only took ten minutes after Jensen closed his sales pitch, and Jared was relieved when he saw the boss nod at the goons. The drugs were a lot less spectacular than the guns, but the bag they were handed was quite the package when it came to merchandise that ordinary people only saw in the dimensions of grams. Jensen smelled the powder and put a dash of it against the tip of his tongue. It seemed to be satisfactory, and Jared let out a relieved sigh when one of the goons got behind the wheel of their truck and reversed out of the clearing, followed by the black jeeps.
His sigh was hardly audible, but there were other concerns to be dealt with. “How the hell do we get out of here now, with a bag full of illegal narcotics and no car?”
Jensen’s smile was half annoying and half intriguing. “We don’t need a car.” He held up his cell phone and pressed speed dial. Jared could only shake his head with an exasperated chuckle when the chopper landed in the clearing not sixty seconds later. Jensen had style, that much was for sure.
...next part...
That's it for today. I hope you liked it! *hugs*
Birdie