Chapter 11
A/N: Chuck was never a police procedural, and so the characters got away with things that would never happen in cop show – such as every villain probably going away to a "black site" rather than to real prison, and CIA/NSA "cleaners" keeping a good deal of the shenanigans away from prying eyes.
Most of the time you're supposed to just nod and smile your way past it, and for enjoying the show Chuck, it usually works. Still, there's probably a dozen and one incidents that could make you wonder "wait a minute – how'd they hide that ?!", such as Sarah murdering Frank Mauser in "Santa Claus" (people are going to notice when an LAPD Lieutenant goes missing, even if you hide the body!)and my own favorite, Sarah's car spectacularly blowing up in broad daylight in the beginning of Chuck vs. The CAT Squad. I'm pretty sure the LAPD and LAFD would have insisted on being part of that scene!
Chapter 11
Prologue - Manhattan Murder Mystery 3
New York New York
Mid-town Manhattan
54th Precinct
( A few days later)
"And where are we on the death of the good doctor, Detectives?" Sgt. Sydney Gormley, asked with his inimitable mixture of concern, condescension, and sarcasm.
The three of them were in Gormley's office, and were joined by a fourth, some weenie from Digital Forensics named Bedrosian – who dared to speak, despite the fact that Gormley had specifically asked the detectives for the sit-rep.
"Sarge, that iPhone is encrypted to the point of being ridiculous. I was able to harvest a contacts list, but practically nothing else." Bedrosian said.
Jackie couldn't stifle her snort of derision "Yeah a contacts list that led nowhere. Nowhere with a capital N."
"Yeah, great work with the cloak and dagger" Danny snarled at the hapless tech weenie. "Maybe I should head over to Gizmo Garage or the Buy More and ask them to help." Regaining some composure, he returned to Gormley. "All we got is a bunch of out-of-context names – names of people who don't even seem to exist. Except for Ted Roark."
"Really, huh?" Gormley challenged.
Jackie flapped the reports in her hand "I'm telling ya, Sarge. It's like a roll call of ghosts. Check this out. Everyone here is either dead or in prison for something or other, and even the details are classified." Again she raised the reports for emphasis. "Theodore Roark and two others are the only ones here that aren't total question marks. Penncrest had his name with a tag on it that said 'engineer' … whatever that means. Other 'engineers' were on his phone."
Danny looked at his own list "Doctor Jonas Zarnow. Worked for the DOD. File redacted. In custody. Doctor Howard Busgang. Worked for the DOD. Deceased. File Redacted. Stephen Bartowski. Deceased. File Redacted. Theodore Roark. Deceased."
"No file to redact?" Gormley queried.
"Well, no. I mean he was the head of a huge tech firm. It's not like he worked for the government." Danny said.
"Riiiiight." Gormley challenged. "Because our government's not interested in computers and tech and things like that."
Somewhat defensively, Danny shrugged "I'm just mentioning it, is all. When we name checked Zarnow, Busgang and Bartowski, we got a little government work, and that's it. Penncrest called them "redacted". When we named checked Theodore Roark we of course got …"
"The life and times of America's favorite dead tech wizard" Gormley groaned in frustration.
"Right." Jackie affirmed. "Other names" she continued. "are tagged as 'I-candidates', though who- knows-what that means? Bryce Larkin. Deceased, file redacted. Scott Reynolds Deceased, file redacted. Curtis Stephens. Deceased, file redacted. Franklin Davis- Deceased, file redacted. William Cutty – Deceased, file redacted. Brian Frankford Deceased, file redacted. Winston Deveraux Deceased, file redacted. Daniel Shaw- in custody, file redacted. Charles Bartowski … huh. It doesn't say what happened to him, except for 'file redacted'. …"
"Bartowski. Was that name on both lists?" Gormley asked.
"Uh, no. Stephen was on the engineer folder and Charles was on the candidate folder. Must be related somehow." Danny said.
"Sounds like Charles is the lucky one that nothing bad happened to yet." Gormley said.
"Here's an interesting name. Hartley Winterbottom. That name shows up on both lists, both as a candidate as an engineer." Jackie said. "And who else is on the candidate list, but none other than our very own witness/non-witness Nicholas Quinn – file redacted."
"What were the other two names?" Gormley asked. To clarify, he added "You said there were two other names that weren't total question marks."
"Oh yeah. Langston Graham – deceased, and file mostly redacted. He does show up on a few internet searches, but that's mostly because he was a high ranking CIA guy. Deputy director, I think it was. The other one is General Diane Beckman, US Air Force. She's mostly redacted too, but we can get that she's an assistant director of the NSA." Danny said.
"Didn't your witness say that our vic used to work for the government?" Gormley asked.
"Yeah, but she didn't say what." Jackie said.
"So what have we got? A dead scientist who used to work for Uncle Sam, who knew a lot of other dead people … plus Nicholas Quinn, who may or may not have killed him."
Danny bristled. "There's no way he's in there by coincidence."
"Okay, so what do we know about these people besides that their files are redacted? Everybody has running water, right? Everyone went to school, right?" Gormley insisted.
Jackie nodded in agreement. "Already there" she beamed "When Jackie Curatola runs down a name, it stays run down. The dead candidates mostly have stuff in common. Larkin died in 2007, but here's the interesting part – the six other dead candidates, Reynolds, Cutty, Frankford, Davis, Deveraux, and Stephens all lived in the Washington DC area, and all except Larkin had their utilities cancelled in the same month – the same month that Langston Graham's electric bills stopped. September 2008."
"So they died around the same time." Gormley thought aloud.
"That leaves us with Larkin, Bartowski and Winterbottom. Now Winterbottom's still a black hole, but Bryce Larkin attended Stanford University from 1999 to 2003 … where he was fraternity brothers with …"
"Nicholas Quinn?" Gormley asked hopefully.
"No. Charles Bartowski – the only 'candidate' who's still alive and on this side of bars. Bartowski didn't seem to graduate until late 2008. Don't know why."
"Any chance of finding Bartowski and getting him on the horn? Maybe he can shed some light on these names."
"He shouldn't be too hard to find. He's listed as the owner of the Buy More franchise in Burbank."
"Great then. That's your next call!" Gormley said, as he dismissed the two from his office.
Jackie and Danny made their way to their desks. "This barely even counts as a lead." Danny grumbled, as he found his seat.
"Oh, c'mon." Jackie reassured. "We've gotten further with worse". She picked up the extension to the phone so that she could listen in when Danny dialed the number.
After hitting the "line 1" button, Danny punched the number pad eight times, to raise the Buy More in Burbank, California.
"Buy More Nerd Herd Desk. Jeffery Barnes speaking." came a pleasant, affable voice from the other end.
"Oh sorry." Danny frowned. "I wasn't gunning for the Nerd Herd desk. I was looking for anyone who can help me find the owner, a Mr. Charles Bartowski."
"Oh, well you're in luck. Chuck's filling in as manager for Mr. Grimes, who's indisposed. I'll transfer you to him" this Barnes fellow promised.
"Thanks a lot." Danny said, patently waiting.
Mercifully, the wait was brief. "Burbank Buy More. Chuck Bartowski speaking. Can I help you?"
"Hello, Mr. Bartowski. This is Detective Danny Reagan, New York Police Department. Do you have a moment to talk.?"
Predictably, the voice on the other end of the line registered some confusion. "Um, yeah I do. I mean I have a video conference in about an hour … but how can I help you detective?"
"Mr. Bartowski, we're investigating a homicide here in New York. Your name is listed in the phone contacts list of the victim, and I was wondering if you knew him. The victim's name is Dr. Lewis Penncrest."
There was a pause on the other line. When this Bartowski fellow spoke again, Danny decided his voice sounded like one who was genuinely bewildered. "No, I'm sorry detective. I don't know that name. And that's not the name of any of my docs. I have a GP and a dermatologist, my sister and brother-in-law are both doctors, and my wife .."
"Oh, wait sir." Danny interrupted. "He wasn't a medical doctor. He was a professor here in New York. He had doctorates in psychology and microbiology, and he taught psych here in Columbia University."
"Oh, ok. That kind of doctor." Bartowski said. "Still not ringing any bells, detective. I went to Stanford, not Columbia. In fact I don't even think I know anybody in New York."
"Yeah, about that, Mr. Bartowski. You went to Stanford around the same time as another contact in Dr. Penncrest's phone. Did you ever meet a Bryce Larkin?"
Now the pause at the end of the phone didn't suggest bewilderment, but rather someone who was being very careful about what he could say. "Yeah, detective. I knew Bryce. He was once my best friend. We were roomies and frat brothers at Stanford. We had a falling out towards the end. I had to read in the paper when he passed away. Was he friends with this Penncrest guy?"
"That's what we're trying to find out, Mr. Bartowski." Danny said.
Across the desk from him, Jackie Curatola scribbled on a pad. Holding it up, she displayed her urging to Danny. "Ask him about Uncle Sam!" Jackie then immediately gave a look that announced that she got an idea in her head and began to rattle on her computer.
"Mr. Bartowski, I'm going to level with you. We're getting the feeling that our victim was involved with some sort of government project. An awful lot of the scientists and people known as 'candidates' on his phone are dead and a lot more are in jail. We heard from one of the witnesses that Dr. Penncrest did some work for the government, but didn't say what. Any chance you'd know anything about what that might be?" Danny asked as Jackie continued to rattle on her computer.
"Sorry detective. Like I said, I don't know of Dr. Penncrest. I didn't even know who he even was until you just told me his name. I wish that I could be more of a help to you."
"I understand, Mr. Bartowski."
"Good luck on running your case. Hope you catch the bad guy." Chuck offered.
"Thanks." Danny said, hanging up. Across the desk, Jackie held an "I-know-something-you-don't-know" grin.
"Looks like someone had a light bulb moment." Danny groused.
"Well, Chuck Bartowski was all but squeaky clean, but that was the first time I've heard tell that he was married – so I just checked California's vital records. Sure enough, your new friend there is a newlywed, married to one Sarah Lisa Walker a few months ago. Now like I said Chuck's available records look squeaky clean for the last ten years – Stanford, Stanford, Stanford until 2003, and then it's Buy More, Buy More, Buy More until the present day."
Getting impatient, Danny said "So what? You, me and he all agree that he's normal, boring, and useless to this case."
"That's the husband." Jackie said. "The wife, on the other hand, has a record that is just plain old weird. First of all, she's the victim of bombing attack in February of this year – someone blew up her beautiful 2006 Porsche 911 right in front of her apartment. She has an on-again, off again job as an interior decorator, at least that's what her employment records say – except for 2007, 2008 and 2009, when she worked – get this- at a couple of fast food joints in the same parking lot as the Buy More that she now co-owns with her husband."
Danny frowned. "You're looking at me like you just discovered the Missing Link. All this tells you something?"
"How does a chickadee who has to make just-over-minimum wage at the Wienerlicious and the Orange Orange even manage to afford the insurance on a Porsche 911 to even get blown up? In California? In LA? And her husband just happens to be the only guy on that contacts list who's not dead, not arrested, and not fallen off the face of the earth? My first job ever was an Orange Orange at the mall, and I didn't even pull in enough to get an old hoopty. And I was living with my parents. I'm telling you partner, this screams weird, and it's one more level of weird on this case!"
"Okay okay. It's weird. So what, you think she's mobbed up or something? Some sort of Russian gangsters?"
"Maybe she's some sort of surveillance on the Buy More like FBI or NSA or something like that, and she met this guy working a case or something. Maybe she's Boarders and Customs, and there was a counterfeit electronics thing going on at the store. And he was helping her."
"Or maybe it's just what it looks like, and the car was a present from Aunt Beatrice or something. Other than that, it sounds like she worked at the hot dog stand and the yogurt shop, met her soon to be husband on lunchbreak, and now they live happily ever after. He bought the Buy More, and now she's married up. Good for him. Good for her. We're getting waaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyy off this case we're on partner! Does either of them have any connection to Nicholas Quinn? Or Bo Derek? Or our vic?"
"No, but ...gal goes from being an interior decorator, driving a Porsche to a minimum wage fast food girl?" Jackie pressed on. "You don't think that's strange at all?"
"Gee, Jackie, I don't know. I'll run it by my Harvard educated brother who's supposed to be making six figures at Dewey, Screwum-Goode & Howe, by now but instead is pushing a patrol unit around the island."
Jackie made a face as Danny continued. "The Dream Job Fairy doesn't visit everyone at the same time, or at the same place in their lives. And in California, people take weird jobs all the time."
Jackie's scrunched up face registered annoyance at her partner, at first, and then concern as he looked at over his shoulder. "Suits" she noticed with concern.
Indeed there were three men and one woman in business suits making their way to the office of Sergeant Gormley, whose office was just barely large enough to fit everyone.
"Feds." Jackie said, quite unnecessarily.
"And our vic worked for the government. I got ten bucks that says that this case is gonna be someone else's problem." Danny said glumly.
"Not giving you my money." Jackie said. "And you never have ten dollars on you."
= = = = = = = = = = BB=BB=BB=BB=BB=BB=BB = = = = = = = = = =
New York, New York
Brooklyn
Frank and Henry Reagan's Residence
(A few days later)
Typically Sunday dinner featured a spat over legal procedures with Danny loudly and forcefully complaining on how the nuances of the law protected criminals, rather than helping him put them away. As usual, Erin girded herself to blunt Danny's complaints against procedure, as she sat down on the broad end of the table, flanked by her daughter Nikki on her left, and Jamie on her right.
At the head of the table sat Frank of course, while Henry presided over the foot. Opposite the Nikki-Erin-Jamie broadside of the table sat Linda, Danny, Jack and Sean. Sunday dinners rarely changed.
To be sure, Erin only wanted it to change at all when and only when Jamie found another great girl – or less likely, it seemed- she found her own likely prospect. Any woman who showed an interest in either Frank or Henry would have to clear many a hurdle before securing an invitation to family dinner, and hopefully the day when Nikki brought home a male dinner guest was still far into the future. Each day however, brought it closer, something Erin didn't enjoy thinking about.
Hoping to start the evening off with pleasant thoughts, Erin took a swig of her red wine. "Jamie- great choice on the wine!" she praised her brother.
"Oh thanks. It's a 2009 Chateau Le Franc. They said it'd go well with the steak." Jamie informed.
"'Shadow of Frank?'" Sean repeated, bewildered. "They call wine 'Shadow of Frank'?"
"Chateau Le Franc" Linda said, correcting her youngest. "Chateau, not 'shadow'".
"It's a French word." Jack supplied. "It means 'really big house'"
Eight pairs of eyes from around the table all turned towards Jack, fascinated at the eleven year old's command of vocabulary.
"Very impressive." Erin praised her nephew.
"Nice going, ace." Jamie added. "Where'd you learn that one?"
Jack's bespectacled face became thoughtful. "Not too sure. It might have been some travel book on France or Belgium."
"You know," Nikki began with a mischievous glint in her eye. "A guy who speaks French never has to look too hard for a girlfriend, Jack. It's like a magic language for us girls."
Erin was tempted to nudge Nikki to get her to cease and desist, but she had to admit that the sight of her nephew presently blushing severely was hilarious. Jack now looked like an apple wearing glasses. For the fourth generation in a row, legend had been proven right as …
"… Don't worry too much, kiddo." Henry told his great grandson in sympathy. "It's been a Reagan family tradition for a long time. The women of the house have always been able to make the men blush at will. And there's no cure or countermeasure that's going to save you from it."
Erin agreed. "Grandmom had it. Mom really had it."
Jamie sank his head. "Boy did she ever."
"I have it" Erin continued.
"Boy do you ever." Jamie agreed again.
"and now Nikki has it." Erin finished.
Taking up the train of thought, Linda continued. "I got it when I married this one" she said cocking her head to Danny.
Greatly amused, Frank went on "And I think Sidney was beginning to get the gist of it".
"Ugh!" Jack groaned. "Yeah she was. When she first started coming to dinner, she asked if I had a girlfriend." Jack grimaced at the memory from years back. "I'm like 'hello! I'm seven!'"
"She was a natural talent at it." Jamie said ruefully.
"Well, she'd be proud of Jack now." Linda said, having thought of yet another way to tease her long-but-not-quite-long-enough suffering son. "His celeb girlfriend is Jessica McLaws."
"Oh, no." Jack sank his head.
"Jessica McLaws?" Erin asked. "As in America's Sweetheart?"
"Oh nice choice." Nikki allowed. "I like her."
"Who's this?" Henry asked, having not followed celeb fashion models since the Kay Somersby era.
"Jessica McLaws." Nikki said. "She's this famous model, but more than that, she has a rep for being the nicest girl you've ever met. Really down-to-earth. She grew up poor, her dad's a firefighter, her mom had cancer awhile back. She got a scholarship to Columbia, and around the time she graduated she really took off. She does lots and lots of charity work, and she's really big on girls issues like eating healthy and fitness – which is kind of a good message for models to send out. She ran the New York Marathon a year or so ago – her sponsorship money went to the FDNY."
Frank nodded in recognition. "Garret is always slightly jealous when the firemen get a bigger celeb contributor than we do."
"Isn't she the skin model for the upcoming Barbara Battle game?" Jamie asked.
"Yeah. Jackie was telling me about that earlier" Danny said.
"A what now?" Henry asked, bewildered.
"It's not as dirty as it sounds." Erin reassured.
"It's for a video game that has parts that look like live action." Jamie began. "Everything will be CGI, like the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park, but the characters will be patterned after real people, and have faces that look like real people. The game makers do it by having an actual famous person come in. They put them in this special suit and put their face into a facial recognition computer, so that when the game comes out, it almost looks like a movie. The people who do it are sometimes called skin models. Jack's … .uhh. girlfriend is in the new Barbara Battle game."
"On the Christmas list of these two, I'm betting" Frank said with a nod to his grandsons.
"Barbara Battle; Zombie Queller 4: Liberty or Zombies on sale at TechnoTown and BuyMore on Black Friday!" Sean added helpfully, haven seen the TV ads more times than could be easily counted.
"Well Jack – I actually met Jessica McLaws on this case I used to be working" Danny informed.
"Really?" Jack asked, excited. "What's she like?"
"Tough to say" Danny said. "The poor girl was the one who found the body, so she wasn't in he best place when I talked to her if you catch my drift." Danny pitched into some green beans.
"Is this the one you think Bo Derek killed?" Erin asked, suppressing a grin, but not keeping the condescension out of her voice as she passed the potatoes.
"You mean the Bo Derek?" Jamie asked in surprise.
"The Bo Derek" Danny said. "And I didn't say she killed him. I said I wanted to take a look at her gun. "
"Who's Bo Derek?" Sean asked.
"She used to be an actress" Linda informed quickly, hoping to pounce on the topic in case Jack knew the answer to that one too. "A long time ago"
"I thought Bo was a boy's name" Jack said.
Frank suppressed a chuckle "Not in this case it isn't."
"Anyway it might sound nuts that she's wrapped up in a murder, but this guy who was in her apartment set off alarm bells left and right. That and this Quinn guy's name was in the vic's cell phone."
"Wonderful hunch, Danny" Erin cautioned.
"Yeah well the ME was just about to drop off my ballistics report when the Feds showed up. They were led by this guy named Decker, and all of a sudden this murder is national security this and federal jurisdiction that."
"Clyde Decker is CIA." Frank said, using his dull voice that suggested contempt. "And not the good kind. Your case must have some heavy duty secrets behind it."
"CIA?" Nikki said. "You mean like spies?"
Frank mulled the question a little. "Yes, Nikki. Like spies."
"Great" Jamie muttered. "Sounds like someone's getting away with murder. I guess they'll just sweep it under the rug?"
"It's the CIA, kid." Danny said. "Anything's possible."
"Soooooo are the CIA good guys or bad guys?" Sean asked.
Erin was the first to respond. "They're professional liars. I don't see how anyone who puts that on their resume can still say they're good guys. At best they /work/ for the good guys."
Jamie typically supported Erin in her more idealistic approach to the applications of law to the real world… but a month into his infiltration of the Cavazerre crime family; he now had an appreciation for the usefulness of cover identities and deceit.
"Like our plainclothes or undercover cops?" Jamie challenged simply.
"No, Jamie" responded Erin, who like the rest of the Reagans save Frank had no knowledge of Jamie's undercover assignment. "There's a huge difference between keeping the fact that you're a cop a secret and constantly lying about your existence to everyone you meet."
"If we had more people working for us like that fifteen years ago," Danny interjected. "We might have saved ourselves a 9/11. Those people of ours might tell a lot of lies, but you can't put a price tag on their information."
"Price tag?" Erin said hotly. "You mean things like 'trust', 'integrity', 'decency', 'human respect'? I'll agree we can use their information, Danny but keeping professional liars on the payroll is something we need to limit."
"I thought spies did things like planted bombs and ran after suitcases and things like that" Sean said, bewildered.
"That's what Hollywood wants you to think, boys" Frank interjected. "In real life 'CIA' stands for Central Intelligence Agency. Intelligence in this case means the same thing as 'information'. Information's very important, both to the country as a whole and to the police. The CIA gathers information."
"And spying is the getting of that information?" Nikki asked to confirm.
"Yes," Erin said. "But some ways are sneaker and more underhanded than others. There's eavesdropping on conversations, flying over an enemy's territory, scouting an enemy position, but there's also stealing an enemy's mail, and sometimes going up to somebody, pretending to be their friend, gaining their trust, and just lying to them so they'll tell you their secrets and plans, knowing the entire time that you'll betray them."
"Yes, that's true." Danny said stubbornly. "And anyone who wants to be a spy needs to get used to the simple fact that some people in this world deserve to be lied to and betrayed, and that's that. Are they selling drugs? They deserve to be set up and stung. Are they into terrorism? They deserve to be lied to and exposed. Is it a gang of car thieves? Let's find someone to inform on them and find out where the cars are. Bad Guys don't deserve to be treated with 'honesty' or 'integrity' or any of that stuff if they plan on breaking the law and hurting people. If some other country is planning on hurting us, I definitely want the CIA on the job finding out about it."
"And that's the straight skinny." Henry said in agreement.
Frank, as was his custom at times, simply watched the on-going debate, enjoying the sight of his family smash philosophies.
"Gotta say that Danny's right, sis." Jamie said. "I mean, when you become a cop, you have to either already be comfortable with, or get comfortable with the fact that some people deserve to go to jail, and some people – the ones who are really violent when we roll up onto a scene -might even deserve to get shot – or at least that our laws allow for that. Spies pretty much do the same thing, except they deal in secrets and lies. Every undercover operation is based on it. Some people deserve to be lied to, set up and betrayed, and we do it for the good of all the good people out there who don't deserve to have their town overrun by criminals."
"I never said that it wasn't useful" Erin snapped. "But I still can't help wondering about someone who lies so well, so often and collects a check to do it. You can't trust someone for whom deceit and betrayal are their bread and butter."
"No, but you can use their information to save lives, while still looking down on them?" Danny said incredulously. "Spies are like the garbage men or the plumbers. They've got a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it, otherwise the world we live in grinds to a halt. The only difference is the plumber might get thanked every now and then."
"Danny's right." Frank said. "The fact is that good intel is good intel. I get regular briefings from the CIA on external threats to the city. They have a hard job. And a thankless one. It's a job we need to get done."
"It sounds like it's pretty important." Jack mused. "I wonder if any of them come to career day."
"No!" Erin, Danny, Jamie and Linda said in unison.
"If," Danny said you do ever become a government suit. "I don't want you to turn out like that Decker guy. The jerk wrangled up a federal prosecutor to yoink the case away from us. Just as we were making progress, too."
"Clyde Decker?" Frank asked. "I've had the dubious pleasure of meeting him."
"I've gotten pretty good at reading slime balls over the years, Dad." Danny said. "And that guy has scumbag written all over him."
"Another hunch" Erin warned.
"What? I don't get credit for a hunch that plays into what you believe?" Danny asked with a grin.
"Partial." Erin said with a grin of her own. "Who would of thought that my telling you shouldn't even ask for a search warrant would be the least upsetting thing for you about this case?"
"Between Bo Derek, Jessica McLaws, and tangling with half of the CIA, it's definitely the least weird."
The introduction of Linda Reagan's chocolate chip cake for dessert banished such unsavory topics as Nicholas Quinn and Clyde Decker from the table.