A/N: Got some writing done this weekend instead of grading papers. So, early chapter. I even got some work done on my thesis. Yay me!
Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, nor do I own Casey, or Sarah, or even Shaw. Though I'm okay with that last one.
Chapter 8:
1140 CET (Somewhere over Central Europe)
"So, where exactly are we going?" Sarah asked, aboard the Gulfstream business jet.
"Afghanistan," Shaw replied. "Didn't we go over this?"
Sarah glared. "I meant, where in Afghanistan. You've been fiddling with that computer for an hour."
"Why don't you go check on Chuck? I'm almost ready." Shaw said. "He's been in there a long time, and I don't want to start the briefing without him."
Casey grunted. "I wouldn't do that if I were you Walker. If he's been in there that long, chances are he's... you know. Indisposed." He illustrated the thought with a vulgar hand gesture. Repeatedly.
"Ugh!" Sarah made a disgusted wince and rolled her eyes. "Please, John. He just saw a man die, I'm sure that's the last thing on his mind." She frowned. It better be the last thing on his mind. As appealing an idea as joining the mile high club with Chuck was, she didn't want to walk in on that. Ever.
"Your funeral." Casey said, going back to his H&K product catalog.
She undid her seatbelt, went aft to the restroom, and knocked softly. "Go away," Chuck's voice came through the door.
Sarah felt a slow smile growing on her lips. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay," Sarah said. "We're going to start the briefing pretty soon. Open up."
The door slid open immediately and Chuck turned from his spot on the floor back to lean over the toilet. "Hey," He said. "I didn't know it was you."
"Did you throw up again?" Sarah asked, concern lacing her voice.
Chuck shrugged, "No." Sarah frowned and stepped in, then wrinkled her nose, but left the door open so if anybody was feeling like snooping, they wouldn't get to make something of the closed door. Casey particularly would have a one-liner ready that would blush her cheeks right off her face.
"That thing you said earlier about tells?" Sarah said with a grin. "Works both ways. Also this is a smelly lie."
Chuck shrugged again and gazed up at her. "Fine. I puked. Happy?"
"No," Sarah whispered. "But this next part is going to be worse. I need you to be strong for me."
"Worse how?"
"Afghanistan isn't exactly a hotbed of international tourism. Especially for people in US issued Battle Dress," Sarah said. "We're probably going into combat, maybe even before we get to the production facility. And that's a whole different set of rules. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"I don't know," Chuck frowned.
"Do you remember Mauser?"
"Kind of hard to forget," Chuck said, and shivered.
"That's the kind of thing I'm talking about," Sarah said. "You'll have to make that kind of split-second decision I was talking about, you or them. This isn't going to be like Burbank. We're not going to have time to talk people out of shooting at us. And we might not have the luxury of being good people this time. I know you don't want to have to kill anybody, and that's why I got you all those rubber bullets for the shotgun. But..."
"But if we end up in a pitched gun-battle, that's also why you made me bring an M4," Chuck said. "I kind of figured that out already. Hence puke numero tres."
She pursed her lips to stop from grinning at his innocence. "You always were too smart for your own good."
"And it isn't like we can talk about stuff like this with Shaw and Casey around," Chuck said. "Can we?"
"We're doing pretty good right now," Sarah said, and darted her eyes at the open door. "Come on, Shaw wants to start the briefing."
"Okay, that should—" Shaw cut off, glanced up at the screen. The image was visible, but there were a few patches of static making the text unreadable. He punched the laptop and the fuzz cleared up, just for a moment, before coming back worse than ever. "Piece of junk. Okay, I can do this without the projector."
"Uh, I can probably help. I only did that kind of thing for a living for like seven years," Chuck said.
Shaw rolled his eyes. "Fine. Come on," He stepped away from the table to make room for Chuck.
"No, I see what you did here," Chuck said, once he'd crawled under the table. "Easy mistake to make, just let me. Huh."
"What's wrong?" Casey asked.
"Um. Is there supposed to be a little black box with a blinking red light attached to this thing?" The flash hit him and Chuck tried to stand in a panic, hit his head and collapsed. "Ow! Bomb. Bomb! It's a bomb, I just flashed!"
"Son of a bitch," Casey growled and hauled Chuck out from under the table by a foot.
"Whoa-hey!" Chuck said, sat up and rubbed his head. "Watch the merchandise."
"Shut it Bartowski," Casey growled and crawled under the table. His grunt was audible. "Shaw, go grab my toolkit from my bag?"
"On it, Casey." Shaw darted aft.
"You okay?" Sarah asked, helping Chuck to his feet.
"Just a bump to the head," Chuck said. "Not like it hasn't happened before."
"Seems like for a guy with a computer in his head, you'd take better care of it." Sarah grinned and took the excuse to smooth his hair down. After a long moment, she decided against kissing it to make it better, and peered under the table. "You got any idea how much time we have on that thing Casey?" It would determine whether or not she dragged Chuck back to the bathroom to get as far as she could before the explosion hit.
He grunted. "I don't see a timer. Maybe it could be a remote trigger? I've never seen anything like this."
Shaw came back from the tail section of the plane where the bags were stowed, a parachute in each hand. "Walker, get Chuck into one of these. Chuck, did you see anything else when you flashed? Anything that could tell us who put the bomb on the plane?"
"There's no timer," Sarah said. "Casey's working on it."
"Casey can hear you. Where's my toolkit, Shaw?" The Colonel grumbled.
Shaw squatted down and shoved the wrapped bundle under the table to him.
"Can I get another look at it?" Chuck asked.
Shaw scooted out of the way and passed Chuck a flashlight. "Be my guest, Bartowski."
Sarah paused in unbuckling the parachute harness. "Why only two parachutes?"
Shaw shrugged his shoulders. "You'd have to ask whoever outfitted the plane. If we need to jump we're going to have to draw straws and buddy jump. Chuck's exempt, intersect and all. The rest of us are more or less expendable."
Chuck dropped the flashlight. "What!"
"Focus, Bartowski. I need that light," Casey yelled.
"I'm not leaving Sarah to die in a bomb blast," Chuck shouted as he peeked his head out from under the table.
Shaw rolled his eyes, and pulled his gun, pointed it at Chuck. "Yes you will."
Sarah fought down a grin. "No he won't. We already had the discussion about how ridiculous it is to shoot someone to save them from a bomb a couple years ago. He won that one too."
"Fine," Shaw growled. "Are you okay with us leaving the pilots to die?"
"I liked you better when you lived two thousand miles away." Chuck shot back.
"You and me both!" Casey yelled from under the table. "Now is anyone going to help me try to defuse this thing?"
Shaw's jaw dropped open, so did Chuck's. Somehow in their bickering it seemed they'd forgotten about that possibility. The older agent shook himself. "There's no timer, you said? Any luck finding whatever the triggering mechanism might be? Chuck, get down there and see if you can try to flash again."
Chuck crawled in next to Casey, and the Colonel shoved the flashlight back into his arms. Casey had managed to get the case open, and for a moment all he could see was a mass of wires. But then the flash came. He winced and shook his head, blinking out of the flash. "It's... whoah that's pretty cool. It's wired into the plane's GPS transponder. Why would they do that? Who would have the tech to do that?"
Sarah sighed heavily. "It's the ring. They know we're coming."
"We don't know that for sure," Shaw protested. Sarah arched an eyebrow at him.
"So what, do we turn the plane around?" Casey said. "This thing could go off any second. If we're going to put her down, the closest US base is in Serbia, and I'd rather not show my face there again after the 'incident.'"
"Is there any country you've been to where they still like you when you leave?" Chuck said.
"Cram it, Bartowski."
"Must be that explosives clause in your contract," Chuck went on. "Blowing up our stuff tends to tick off even the best of us."
"Yeah? Need I remind you of a certain Crown Victoria? And I thought I told you to cram it, Moron," Casey said. "We get a ruling on that emergency landing, Shaw?"
"No, Sarah's right." Shaw said, coming to a realization. "If they know we're on to them they'll want to make as big a splash as possible. We're okay for now." He went forward to the cockpit. "Pilot. Change of plans. Break south and take a bearing for Souda Bay Airbase on Crete. Don't radio in the change in flight plan. Get us low, under Radar coverage. When we get challenged by the Souda Bay tower, come get Colonel Casey for the clearance."
When Shaw came back, Casey was still under the table. "It's alright Colonel, we'll change planes in Crete, let the bomb techs on the ground take care of that. We're safe for now."
"What?" Chuck said. "How can you be so sure?"
"The ring doesn't know I'm alive."
"You could have fooled me," Chuck said. "Bomb on a plane is fairly indicative if you ask me. You killed Ernst for nothing!"
Shaw glared for a moment, before ignoring the last bit. "I didn't ask. But thanks for the vote of confidence." Shaw said, rubbing his chin in thought. "And they don't know I'm alive. If they knew I was alive they wouldn't have trusted it to a bomb. I've given them enough trouble over the years, that I'm fairly sure I warrant the personal touch. At the very least, a sniper rifle. Although I'd think the director would want to be able to watch the tape over and over again. Probably they'd send a rendition team if they knew it was me."
"Oh, because that makes it better!" Chuck said. "They wouldn't blow you up because they want to torture you first? I'm just brimming with confidence now."
"Bombs are inexact, Chuck, even on a plane, we could still parachute out. A bomb this sophisticated, there's always a chance it fizzles. No, the ring doesn't know exactly who's on this plane, they just know they don't want us getting to Afghanistan safely. The GPS thing makes the most sense, from a psi-ops perspective. It's probably set to go off once we're in sight of the runway in Kabul, so there's no doubt it was a bomb, not mechanical failure or something mundane. Also it lets Beckman know they're on to her tricks with our communications, puts a little more of the air of mystery in it for them. The Ring loves that kind of thing."
"So they know we're coming, and we can't call in for agency backup without risking our cover," Casey said, a glimmer of anticipation in his eye. "Good thing I came prepared. How long to Crete?"
"Pilots said we're just leaving Serbian airspace now, so another half hour tops," Shaw said. "Let's get started on this briefing."
Casey let out an impressed grunt. Chuck's eyes widened and he glanced at Sarah incredulously. The man had icewater running through his veins.
"The Ring is set up... I was going to point to the projector, but oh well," Shaw said. "Their main base of operations is about fifteen miles north east of Jalalabad in the mountains along the boder between Afghanistan and Pakistan. It's a couple hours by car to Jalalabad from Kabul. We got some decent sat imagery of the area, which I can't show you because of our technical difficulties, but it's highly mountainous terrain. We'll need to coordinate onsite with US forces, get a helicopter maybe, but the noise could tip off the Ring and any Afghan forces they've bought off. I'm open to suggestions, Casey. I know you've worked the region extensively before."
"Most of my contacts are in the north, but I've got a couple friends owe me favors in the area. Delta Force has a team we might be able to snag for backup operating in that area." Casey grunted. "As long as everybody knows how to ride a horse? Bartowski?"
"I'll manage," Chuck said. "That reminds me. If the army is all over the place, why does the Ring think its a good idea to set up shop there. I mean, does it strike anybody else as weird?"
Casey grunted. "No actually. When we went in after Osama in 2001, the poppy growers and the drug cartels got together and threw a big party. Poppies means opium, means heroin. Before the Taliban took over, it was one of Afghanistan's biggest imports, but they cracked down on the poppy growers something awful. Now that they're out, its back to business as usual."
"Casey?" Chuck said. "You... almost sound like you like the Taliban."
"What!" Casey said. "You take that back, Bartowski. Granted, as far as anti-drug policies go, stoning is pretty effective. But when you expand the practice to shoplifters and litterers and jaywalkers, I think maybe you need to take a step back and reassess the way your penal code is developing. Anyway. My point was, that there's a ready made smuggling operation on the ground there, all the Ring has to do is piggyback onto it, sift the powder, non-aerosolized form of the Cyclosarin into the raw heroin and bam, they can ship the stuff anywhere they want using existing smuggling methodologies."
"Oh."
"And once they have it in the US," Sarah said, taking up the explanation. "They can separate the drugs from the weapon chemically and sell both. From the Ring's perspective it's a double win. Also it explains their extensive contacts with organized crime figures in LA. Which was always bugging me. It's a big market. They've probably been planning this for years to fund other operations around the world. If we take out this operation for good, it's going to hit them where it really hurts. Their pocketbook."
"If we're done with the side-story?" Shaw demanded. "I was hoping we'd be able to go over more operational concerns."
Casey grunted. "I'll get on my satphone to one of my buddies in Delta."
"Don't tell him what we're after, he may be compromised or be in touch with someone who is," Shaw said.
"Who do I look like, Bartowski?" Casey said, then paused. "Don't answer that."
"Anything else we can get started on now?" Sarah wanted to know.
Chuck raised his hand. "Uh, actually. About my cover. I'm supposed to be at a Nerd Herd thing until, I guess today? Right? It is Monday? Sarah's got her 'stomach virus' thing going on, that could be pretty much open ended. But Big Mike is expecting me back at work in--sorry if my calculations are off--like twelve hours, and after the debacle with Hannah, I'm kind of on thin ice as it is."
"Is that all?" Shaw said, whipping out his phone and unfurling the satellite antenna. He dialed quickly. "It's ringing," He put a hand up to forestall Chuck's response, before going on in a fusty voice. "Yes, hello. This is Nordberg J. Petermann with Buymore Corporate. I'm heading up the Nerd Herd symposium in Oakland this year. I understand a Charles Bartowski is your store's representative this year. Yes. Uh-huh. No, nothing of the sort, he's been very respectful with the female nerds."
Shaw put the phone to his chest and adopted a confused expression, mouthed: "Harrassment? Really?"
Chuck slumped and put his head in his hands. "My boss thinks I'm a freak. And I work with Jeff and Lester. But somehow I'm the freak." Sarah smirked and patted him on the back.
Shaw shrugged and put the phone back to his ear. "Actually, the reason I'm calling is that he's been doing such good work here, we need him for a few extra days. Yes, absolutely, we should have him back to you by next Monday at the latest. Okay, thanks for saying so Michael." Shaw flipped the antenna back in, and went on in his normal tone of voice. "Anything else, Bartowski?"
Chuck shook his head helplessly.
"Great, thanks," Casey said. "We should be in Kabul sometime this morning if we can hop a freighter jet pretty quick. See you then." He hung up.
"News?" Shaw asked.
Casey nodded. "Yeah, I got in touch with an old buddy of mine. He and a couple of his guys have been operating basically off the grid except for an old contact number. I've got rendezvous coordinates. We should be able to get there pretty easy if we can commandeer a Humvee. He'll have spare horses and supplies waiting."
"Excellent," Shaw said. "Pilot says we're coming up on Crete. They're going to need you up front to talk us through the air cordon around the base."
Casey grunted. "Of course. On it."
Which left Chuck and Sarah in the passenger compartment with Shaw. Sarah got to her feet before the silence could become awkward. "We should probably change into our BDUs if we're going to try to hide the fact we're CIA to throw the Ring off," She said, and went aft for her duffelbag. "Dibs on the bathroom."
Before disappearing into the bathroom she tossed Chuck's duffelbag to him. He staggered back a step from the impact when he caught it. Shaw stifled a chuckle. Chuck glared at him and changed quickly, dumping his weaponry and supplies out onto one of the bench seats. Shaw raised an eyebrow. "Auto-shotgun?" He said, taken aback. I take back what I said before."
"Rubber bullets," Chuck explained and pulled his camouflage shirt over his head.
Shaw sighed, doing up his own bootlaces. "Way to live down to my expectations, Chuck. Really, nice going."
"Glad I could help. Jerk," Chuck said, and sat to tug his boots on. "Oh, I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have said that. You're not going to shoot me, are you?"
"Listen, Bartowski. I've heard just about enough out of you about Ernst. He was my contact. At one point he was my friend. I didn't like doing it, but it was necessary, and I won't have you making light of my decisions. Or questioning my tactical orders."
"Well I don't know what they teach you at how to suppress your emotions school. I never got that far in my spy training, but when I kill someone in cold blood, then I'll take my morality advice from you. Until then I'll thank you kindly to cram it, Sir."
Shaw shot to his feet, hands balling into fists, his control slipping. Maybe it was the killing was hitting him harder than Chuck thought."Watch it, Bartowski. You do not want to test me on this--"
"Boys!" Sarah barked, kicking the bathroom door shut behind her. "Stop bickering, or I swear to god, I'm going to turn this plane around." Their reaction was priceless, especially Chuck's. Sarah was decked out in full tactical gear. The heavy body armor with its multiple layers of overlapping ceramic plates was proof against almost any known small arms. Her M4 carbine was strapped securely to her back, and she had half a dozen flash bang and concussive grenades strapped over top of her body armor. Sarah also had a heavy duty Kevlar helmet leaned on her hip. With her blond hair flowing around her shoulders, she looked like a modern-day Valkyrie, and Chuck felt his mouth go dry at the sight of her. He only just stopped himself short of getting down on one knee and proposing on the spot. It was at the last possible moment--already bending his knee--that he remembered he wasn't supposed to be in love with her anymore and stifled the impulse. It looked like he nearly swallowed his tongue in the process.
Sarah grinned at the effect she had on Chuck. It was especially heartening considering the fact that she'd never been more covered up in all the time she'd known him. It felt nice knowing it wasn't necessarily just the curves that did it for him. The good feeling lasted until the instant she saw a similar, but less intense look in the eyes of Daniel Shaw. She groaned inwardly. That was a complication she didn't need.
TO BE CONTINUED
A/N: Really this wasn't supposed to be a full chapter. It was intended as just a quick lead-in to the next part of the mission, but the Ring surprised even me with that bomb on the plane, and all the characters had a lot more banter in them because of it than I expected. And here we are almost 4000 words later at a decent stopping point. Expect mayhem next chapter. The team may even get off the plane!
I love getting feedback, positive or negative. Feedback is feedback. Reviews are always appreciated. Isn't that little button down there tempting? Can't you hear it whispering to you, saying: Click me... Click me...
