I don't own "Chuck." I also don't own "Jersey Shore." Not that it has anything to do with this story, but I just want to make sure you blame somebody else.
Chapter 10
Once the song had mercifully ended, Casey, Carina and Sandoval climbed back down the stairs. Stealing a glance across the room, Casey could see that the table that Forrest, Grimes, and Bailey had once occupied was now empty. There was no sign of the men who had surrounded them either.
"I think it is time for us to leave," Casey heard Sandoval say behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man approach and stand in front of him. Casey found himself take a step backwards; clearly there was a defensive line somewhere that was running low in steroids thanks to this guy's daily regimen. Casey prided himself on his fighting prowess, but Sandoval's bodyguard would really put him to the test.
Carina nodded to Casey, and motioned that they should follow. Instead of the front entrance, they found an emergency exit, and were soon approaching a black sedan. The burly guard headed to the driver's entrance, while Sandoval motioned for Casey to take the front passenger seat.
"You disappoint me, Mary Anne," Sandoval said after the car had left the bar.
"What?" Casey could hear a slight note of uncertainty in Carina's voice, and hoped that Sandoval didn't detect it too.
"You used to be careful. You would never let yourself be followed like that." Casey relaxed slightly, realizing that Sandoval hadn't realized they were connected with Forrest and the rest. At least not yet.
Carina barely missed a beat. "Ah. Well, we had no idea what kind of a high-profile gig this was. And how do you know they weren't following you?"
"This is nothing to joke about, Mary Anne. This is a big operation, and you can't leave anything for granted."
"So who were these people anyway?"
Casey looked back to see Sandoval shrug. "Some government operatives, I think. I wasn't told."
"But weren't they your men that grabbed them?"
Sandoval shook his head. "There are others working for my employer as well, and we don't really communicate with them. My bosses don't leave anything to chance, and they don't like having to rely on anyone too much."
It was just like Fulcrum and all of those other splinter groups, Casey thought. A bunch of left hands not knowing what the right hand was doing.
"Your employers certainly sound mysterious," Carina commented. "Exactly who are they?"
"They are wealthy individuals who value those that are not curious."
Sandoval didn't say anything further for a few minutes. Casey managed to catch Carina's eye through the car's rearview mirror. Her face briefly betrayed her concern, before she turned back to look out the window. He couldn't tell if what he had seen was concern for their teammates, or just for Grimes, or for themselves.
A minute later, they pulled into a suburban street. "We are almost here," Sandoval announced.
It didn't look like a mercenary's type of place, with several well-manicured lawns and flower beds. It might have been the type of place he had once imagined back when he was Alex Coburn, though that was long past. He wasn't sure it was a place he'd ever want to live in anyway. Close-knit communities were nosy communities.
Carina seemed to be surprised by there destination as well. When the car stopped and the burly guard motioned for them to leave the car, she asked, "Is this your place, Martin?"
"No. Just a little place I…borrowed."
"Then the owners…"
"Are on a week-long cruise to the Caribbean, from what I understand. I only need to be here for a few days. They will return to find a less-stocked cupboard, but no other reason to be suspicious."
The burly guard produced a set of picks from his pocket, and picked the locks with a nimbleness that belied his size. Once inside, Sandoval typed the appropriate code into the alarm system without a moment's hesitation. He motioned for Casey and Carina to go through a door to the right.
They found themselves in a sizable, homey kitchen, with a large round table in the middle. Carina sat down, while Casey remained standing.
Looking around to make sure the other two were out of earshot, Casey whispered, "When we get our chance, I'll take the walking boulder while you deal with Sandoval."
"No."
"No?"
"We can still use Sandoval to infiltrate Torrance's organization. We can't give that up now."
"And our team? You'd risk them?"
"Yes, if we have to. They signed up for this. They knew the dangers."
"Even your Boy Toy?"
Carina sighed. "He's not my… Look, I don't like this any more than you do, but maybe you should have a little more faith in them. Maybe they don't need us to rescue them." She flashed a wicked smile. "And once they get themselves free, I'll be sure to let Morgan know you were so worried about him."
Casey growled.
"Oh please, we both know you care. Face it, you're a fraud, John Casey."
Casey smirked. "Maybe so, but I'm quite willing to hit a woman."
Carina snorted. "Save it for later. We've got to ingratiate ourselves with Sandoval now. Forrest and the rest can take care of themselves."
We're going to die.
The foul-tasting cloth in his mouth kept Morgan from actually saying these thoughts out loud. But that didn't make them feel any less real to him.
The pitch black of his surroundings didn't help either. Morgan had been afraid of the dark until he was eight-years-old, and some of his childhood boogieman nightmares were coming back to him now. Though the boogieman of his childhood dreams hadn't been armed to the teeth like his new captors were.
At least none of his new sources of fear were inside the bed of the large truck with them right now. So if nothing else, Morgan's doom could be postponed for a little longer.
He heard a slight scratching sound from beside him. Unable to articulate his fear, he only managed a nervous "Hmmph!"
"Shh!" The response came from beside him. Deciding that the voice was from Agent Forrest, Morgan returned to his silent panicking.
A few minutes later, Morgan felt the truck stop, and the sound of footsteps came from outside. The back door slid open, and he felt himself blinded by the glare of a flashlight. "C'mon," a gruff voice said.
With his wrists and ankles bound, Morgan wasn't exactly sure how he was supposed to do that. However, a quick movement from beside him interrupted his thoughts. He heard a loud grunt, and the flashlight clanked on the truck floor.
Before he could react, Morgan felt a strong hand pull him out of the truck and onto the ground. The impact almost knocked him out, but he was still able to see the muzzle of a gun pointed at him.
Out of the corner of his eye, Morgan could see Agent Forrest kneeling over one of the men that had apprehended them at the bar. Her hand held what appeared to be one of the bar's knives over the man's throat. She looked up, and studied Morgan and the other man briefly. Finally, after what felt like hours to Morgan, she dropped the knife.
A third man approached Forrest, and slapped her across the face. "Nice try," he said in a low voice. Morgan was pulled to his feet, and dragged down a dark alley. He could hear Forrest and Bailey behind him, though Forrest couldn't speak with the gag back in her mouth.
Morgan watched the gravel move past underneath him, trying to ignore the panic threatening to overtake him. Finally, after what felt like hours, he was pushed into what looked like an old warehouse. Morgan could see little evidence that anyone had been there in a long time, other than three rickety folding chairs. He was pushed into one of them, while Bailey and Forrest were shoved into the chairs next to him. Each was tied to their chair, and the gags were finally removed.
"Now," the first man, who Morgan now recognized as the waiter from the karaoke bar, "which of you is going to tell us what we want to know?"
He walked between the three of them, glancing closely at each in turn. Morgan wasn't sure if it was in his best interest to appear tough or weak. Appearing weak would make him seem like he could be easily swayed, and therefore a likely candidate for torture. Appearing strong would make him seem like he was the leader of the group and would know more than the others. Making him a likely candidate for torture.
As Morgan wrestled with this dilemma, the man walked past him, and paused in front of Bailey. He nodded to the other men, and they grabbed Bailey's wrist while he untied him. The leader and the second man began to pull Bailey away.
"Please, no! I don't know anything!"
"We'll see," Morgan heard the first man say, as they dragged Bailey into a room at the other end of the warehouse.
"Cough."
"What?" Morgan turned his eyes away from the one remaining guard and looked over at Agent Forrest.
"Cough," she repeated again.
Uncertainly, Morgan began his best dry heaving, before finally collapsing into a hacking cough.
"Quick, he has asthma!" he heard Agent Forrest say. "He needs his inhaler."
"He'll be fine," the guard shot back.
"He's not going to tell you anything if he passes out. He'll be useless to you. Do you think your bosses would like that? The inhaler's in the back of the truck. I heard it fall out of his pocket earlier."
The guard considered this for a moment, then quickly hurried outside. Once gone, Agent Forrest said, "Now rub up against my leg."
"Um, I'm kind of seeing someone…"
"I mean to push my pant leg up, you idiot! I have a knife there."
Morgan wiggled out of one of his shoes, and pushed up Agent Forrest's pant sleeve with his foot. Soon a knife sheath came into view.
"Now pull it out."
"How?" Morgan was still bound to the chair.
"Can you get it out with your foot. Without stabbing me?"
It took a few tries, but soon the knife was out. Agent Forrest leaned over on her chair until it fell, and she landed on Morgan's lap.
"You know, this is really…"
"I needed to cushion my fall, you twit. I don't want the other two hearing anything." As Agent Forrest said this, a shriek from the other room underscored the urgency.
"I don't think they'll be able to hear anything over that," Morgan commented, trying not to think about what was going on in there. Nothing good could produce those sounds.
"Just shut up and let me work." In only a few seconds, Agent Forrest grabbed the knife and cut away her binds. Rather than freeing Morgan, she quietly moved towards the entrance, and snuck outside. A moment later, Morgan heard a faint grunt.
Agent Forrest returned, wiping the knife down with the rag that had been shoved into Morgan's mouth only a few minutes ago. "One down," she said quietly.
Morgan's eyes widened, but he didn't comment. Agent Forrest freed him, and motioned towards the door on the other end. He hadn't heard any more shrieks from in there, but he wasn't sure whether that was a good or bad sign.
"You think he talked?" Morgan asked.
"Probably. Kid doesn't seem to have it in him to resist." Forrest handed Morgan the knife.
"Why are you giving me this?"
"I've got a gun now, and you'll need something."
Morgan gulped.
"You're not going to be able to talk your way through this situation, Agent Grimes. Now come on!"
"You two are lucky."
Sandoval had reappeared in the kitchen, and rooted through the cabinets looking for something to eat. He was now seated at the kitchen table with Casey and Carina, munching on a granola bar.
"I lost a couple of my men the other day on a mission," Sandoval explained further. "So I do have a couple of openings."
"That's great, Martin!" Carina said. "You know you can count on us."
"I hope that's the case, Mary Anne. My bosses can be very demanding. We can't have any more issues like this evening."
"But I'm sure those people you caught will talk, and tell your employers what they need to know. Then we'll find out how they knew to follow you."
Casey nodded. He couldn't imagine Grimes or Bailey holding out for long in an interrogation. That definitely put them at risk.
"So, can you tell us what the gig is, Martin?"
"I can only tell you that we are headed east."
"East?" Carina said in surprise. "Then the mission isn't around here?"
"My current employers have me traveling all over the country. I just like to use Los Angeles as a home base because I like the city. But now we don't have much time. We have a plane leaving in three hours."
"Three hours?" Casey shared Carina's surprise. That didn't leave them much time to prepare. It also meant they were leaving Agent Forrest and the others behind.
"You'll pack light. But don't worry, I'll send Hector with you to help." Sandoval motioned towards the ox-like guard, who was currently standing over them. "He will drive you to the airstrip when you are ready."
As they stood up, Sandoval said, "It is good to see you again, Mary Anne. I'm glad we'll get the chance to work together once more."
"Likewise, Martin." Casey couldn't feel much enthusiasm, though. They were about to head across country, being forced to abandon their own teammates in their time of need, all to chase a possible lead that might not even pan out.
Casey liked gambling, but he'd prefer to at least be able to see his hand before he threw all his chips on the table.
I hope everyone is enjoying this story. I also want to point out that I've started a separate collection, "Casey vs. the Fifth Elder: B-Sides, Rarities and Live Tracks" - a bunch of throwaway scenes taking place in this story. The first scene - "Casey vs. the Comic Book" is up now.
As always, please review to let me know how good, bad, or ugly this story is going.