A/N: Converting Charahns to Charries, one mind, one chapter, at a time.
Thanks for all the reviews. If I'm making you think, making you compare and contrast characters, then I've done my job. If I haven't and you're reading for enjoyment, that's Ok too. Thanks to all you who've taken the time to review this. I appreciate all your comments and try to respond to questions and comments. If anyone out there feels brave and would like to pre-read MOAH2, PM me. It's a 'nice to Sarah' sequel to MOAH. I'm still struggling to awaken some semblance of Charah within my soul although I enjoy the hell out of reading it.
Please read the last few paragraphs carefully. See notes at end. Also, there's a strong hint for a backstory if you think Phil Collins in one of Chuck's rejoinders. Subtle but speaks volumes in context with this story. PM me if you think you got it. I'll need the song title and movie title to award prizes. 1st prize: one week in Bogalusa, LA; 2nd prize: 2 weeks in Bogalusa, LA
~Armor-Plated-Rat~
Previously:
Nothing you 'suggest' or do ever has a positive outcome for anyone but you
you don't have any duct tape? What kind of spy are you?
You are a worthless piece of offal vomited up by an adulterous woman.
And it's been 11 months and 16 days but who's been counting?
He was such a tool
"Chuck, I need to tell you some things about the past year and about a plan I have…"
Bosaso, Puntland Semi-Autonomous Region,
Somalia
Hotel Juba
Suite of Kings
Chuck was bemused, disgusted and amazed simultaneously at Bryce Larkin's idea of a 'hide site'.
They had driven through the unlit streets of southwest Bosaso at a reasonable speed not wanting to attract undue attention to their little convoy. Bryce had kept up a rambling narrative of the operations plan the couple had been assembling since arriving, legally, in Somalia via a cruise ship.
They had joined the cruise 'en route' from Naples to Capetown and disembarked in Somalia to 'see the real Africa'. That was the bemusing part. Wealthy honeymooners, indeed. At least it gave them the element of freedom of movement. He just couldn't wrap his head around anyone taking their beautiful bride to the Stink hole of the Horn. He imagined the local intelligence agents couldn't either but probably wrote it off to the historical craziness of do-gooder Europeans. Cultural anthropologists were like that everywhere.
He had asked Bryce bluntly why the pair of agents felt it necessary to pick him up in a convoy rather than just a land rover. "Well, Chuck, we weren't told much about the individual arriving and figured to err on the side of caution. Had you arrived with a pallet of computer gizmos and commo gear we would have been SOL if we'd just brought the one Rover."
He let him have his point. It was valid at first glance but still left enough holes to raise the hairs on the back of his neck. "So how are you going to explain one man in battle dress to the Somali drivers?"
"Simple. We told them you were our bodyguard and couldn't enter the country legally. Nice, huh?"
Bryce parked and paid off the drivers and added a bonus for the driver who had to retrieve his abandoned rover. Chuck would have given him a roll of duct tape and a 10-litre plastic water jug and his apologies. Bryce flashed entirely too much cash for Chuck's comfort. Always was the big spender. Always had the car. Always had the girl.
"Chuck, I need to tell you some things about the past year and about a plan I have…" Chuck cut her off.
"Please, we'll have time for this in the morning, hell, later in the morning. But right now I want a shower and a cot. Nothing complicated. I stink. And I'm stiffening up sitting back here. I think I broke my ass when I landed. So please, just hold your thoughts. I'll make time for you, Sarah, you know that. I always did." He flashed a smile and patted her hand. "Later, please."
"Sure, baby, when you're feeling a little more human." And she smiled her special smoldering promise of 'later' at him.
Bryce returned and fired up the Rover.
"I'll bet you're thinking 'shower and bed', right, Chuck. You've been going at least 36 hours straight and you smell like you spent those in the sun – surrounded by dead fish. No offense, Chuckie, but you stink." Chuck wasn't offended in the least by any reference to his smell. He did stink. But Chuck wasn't 'Chuckie' anymore.
"So, Chuck, your own team? Wow, you must rate if you have a whole team of handlers. Coming up in the spy world, are ya?" He laughed at his own joke. He was fishing. He wasn't comfortable with this new Chuck Bartowski. He could find very little of the Nerd he'd palled around with at Stanford. He didn't seem at all fragile and awkward like he remembered. The last time he'd seen him was after the Lazlo affair and he didn't think 18 months would have changed him all that much. Maybe he was finally growing up.
"Yeah, Bryce, an entire team of sitters just to keep me out of trouble. What can I say, the intersect is the gift that keeps on giving." Bryce relaxed a bit; that seemed like an answer the old Chuck would have given.
"You still nerdherding at the BuyMore? The Castle still wowing you with its gadgets?" He knew that Chuck was embarrassed by his job and Sarah had said that the NSA was intent on keeping him there. Their cover had been fragile at best. A beautiful fast-food girl falling for a geeky-looking hourly wage guy at an electronics store was a movie plot not real life. It couldn't have survived much longer anyway. Sarah Walker had itches that needed to be regularly scratched and Bartowski did not make muster in that department.
"No. Not anymore."
Sarah Walker absorbed this news and turned to speak directly to him. He'd been sitting behind Bryce for a couple of reasons, no eye contact being one of them. He just couldn't look in Bryce's eyes without seeing the lies and deception.
"So what do they have you doing now, Chuck? Are you still living with Ellie and Devon? How did the wedding go? Are they happy?" Small talk.
"The wedding was nice and they're very happy. Ellie's pregnant and due any day now. I got my own place but don't spend much time there. Well, that will probably change."
Sarah picked up on a certain hint of sadness in his voice. A distress level he couldn't quite suppress and she wondered again at what he'd been doing since Treasure Island. When he'd taken off his cap in the desert she'd seen the scar and remembered all the blood and her fear. She'd almost lost it right there. That was the last time she'd seen him. The very last time. She knew he was still unconscious when she left. He'd never really been in danger from his injuries but she hadn't known that at that time. She just sent Beckman her request and left. Didn't even try to explain it to Casey. She just left, no note, no long letter to Chuck explaining her actions, no voicemail. Nothing. She just left.
"So, you finally left the BuyMore? I always said you could do more, be more. I was right. Look at you now."
"Yeah, Agent Walker, take a look at me now." There was something in his tone that said 'leave me alone now, I'm done talking.'
It was 4am when they pulled into the agents' "hide site". He was very glad he hadn't walked in to the site from the desert.
He walked out to the balcony of the suite for privacy. It was finally cooling down just as the sun was preparing for another day of Baked Africa. The breeze was still warm and he smelled so bad that he took off his uniform stood in just his boxers with his back to the living room looking out over the awakening city.
"Casey, secure."
"Bartowski, secure. How's sunny Rome, Major? Everyone settled in and on plan?"
"Yes, sir, Agent-in-Charge Bartowski, sir. And it's oh-dark-30 here, Agent-in-Charge Bartowski, sir." He could hear the snarky laughter in Casey's voice.
"Ok, I just assumed command. Beckman didn't object and it wouldn't have mattered anyway. Seriously, you guys settled in and ready to rock 'n roll?"
"Yeah, Boss, we're all set. So, how did the meet & greet go?" He already knew the basics from Beckman's briefing but wanted to hear Chuck's version. It was usually a lot more colorful for lack of a better word.
"They were 10 fucking hours late, Casey. I had to go find them. They walked right into an ambush like fucking amateurs. I mean I could have taken all 7 of them out in less than 5 seconds. Pathetic, Casey, pathetic. And Casey, the team that met me? Bryce Larkin and…Sarah Walker. I couldn't believe how they just drove in dumb, no oversight, no brief recce, just drove in as happy as clams at high tide."
"And what then, Boss, a lot of high-fiving with Bryce and face-sucking with Sarah?" This ought to be good. Can tell a lot about what isn't said as much as by what is.
"No, Casey. I got mad at how cavalier they were treating the whole deal so I ripped them a new one and told them to take me to the hide site. You wouldn't believe where it is. And that brings me to the reason for my call. I will be naked soon. I will be burning my insertion stuff. It stinks, Casey, I stink. I need clothes. Please send me an overnight to the consulate here in Bosaso with clothes. I need to get out and about and Bryce's clothes are… his."
"You'll have them this afternoon, Boss. I'll see to it myself. We have Carte Blanc so we might as well start using it. Any thing else? It's what, 4:30 and you're still blowing and going? You need to catch some Z's, Boss. Tell that asshole Larkin to pick up your package at the consulate at 4pm. It'll be there, I promise."
"Thanks, Casey. I'll talk to you later."
"Uh, Chuck, anybody you have any messages for? Any personal greetings?"
"No." and disconnected.
"Oh shit, oh dear" said John Casey. He grabbed a pad and started making a list of things he knew Chuck would need. 'Maybe a box of condoms?'
There were two bedrooms in the Suite of Kings. Only one had been used. Dr. and Mrs. David Janssen had asked the hotel housekeeping staff for 'privacy' as befitted honeymooning newlyweds and the stack of serving plates on the room service cart certainly underwrote their dedication to cover. Apparently Bryce still was addicted to Opium, as Chuck had once complained. Other Peoples Money. In this case, the US Taxpayer.
He stood out on the balcony in just his boxers after taking a refreshing and very much needed shower. The rest of his clothing was in a plastic bag until it could be burned later. The uniform had all markings removed and anyone examining the battle dress would assume it had either been looted from battle or stolen and sold on the black market. Everything was for sale in Africa.
He held his cell in hand scrolling through pictures of Carrie Webb and some of them together in happier times. He knew he should have left it behind on the plane with his other personal stuff but he'd broken protocol and lugged it along. It was his last link to what should have been a very happy life for them.
Damn her and her dedication to her job. She'd surpassed Sarah Walker in dedication. She'd slept with him, deceived him, and worse, she'd made him hope again. Unforgivable. He should have known right from the start, from the first meeting on the beach, that she was the consummate professional. But she'd been so real and he'd been so vulnerable and so needy. Bryce Larkin was right. People like him never get girls like that. Always second best.
He was so damned tired of it all. Seeing Sarah and Bryce together, and now knowing they were really together, brought a painless closure to a part of his life and the person he would have sold his soul 18 months ago to have. 11 months and 17 days and he was finally out of love with Sarah Walker.
It would take a lot longer for Carrie Anne Webb, maybe forever. But he'd start, just like with Walker, a day at a time. Starting today.
He tossed the iPhone onto the top of the bag that held his battle dress uniform. He would burn it with the rest of the trash.
He didn't see the little icon in the display telling him he had 1 new email. He was already walking to his bedroom to take another shower and sleep. He still thought he smelled like a leprous goat and another shower would help. At least he hoped so.
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It seemed to her that Bryce Larkin would never get showered and go to sleep. Yes, they shared the bed for their cover but that was all. Sure, she woke up some mornings wrapped up in him but that was just biology, nothing more. Now that she was sure he was asleep, she slipped from the bed and went in search of Chuck Bartowski.
She'd heard him out on the balcony talking with Casey and figured he just might have fallen asleep out there. It would be the perfect opportunity for her to explain her plan and beg his forgiveness for her past actions. It was too soon but she had to explain her actions.
All the lights were out in the living room and the balcony door was still open. Stepping out onto the veranda she searched the dimness for Chuck but he'd apparently gone to bed. Well, that was perfect, too. She'd have her talk with him and see where it led. Hopefully, she'd awaken in the arms of a man who would truly make her feel loved.
She noticed a blinking light. It was his iPhone that he'd tossed onto the bag with his clothing to be burned. He was mastering spy craft after all. She picked it up and opened the directory and searched for \SW knowing that's where their pictures were stored. He was still an organized nerd.
Dir \SW [empty] He'd deleted all the photos of them. A part of her was sad but a larger part understood that he had done it to keep his new cover, whatever it was.
The second directory almost brought her to tears. Dir \Wed. Pictures of the wedding. Ellie and Devon looked incredibly happy. There was Chuck and Devon, Chuck and Ellie, Chuck and … shit. The handler. She looked good; she'd give her that. And they looked like a couple. Good cover. They both looked so natural and good together. There were several pictures of the wedding party. Ellie had followed her suggestion on the dresses. Somehow that made her sad and happy at the same time. Ellie Bartowski had been her first 'bestest friend'.
There was another directory \US and she touched it open. Curious she opened the file and displayed the contents.
Photo after photo of Chuck and his new handler. Cassie? Connie? She couldn't remember. She just remembered picking her exact opposite as his handler to ensure he was protected from himself and danger. Now she wondered if it had been a wise choice. They looked so happy together. So right. He couldn't have fallen for her, could he? She would never cross the line. Sarah had tested her, baited her, told her the absolute truth about them but had withheld any indication of her plan.
She cleared the display and was going to toss the iPhone with the rest of the burnables when she saw the blinking icon that said to everyone 'you've got mail' and she opened it.
To: Bartowski.c
Fr: Webb,c
Subj: I should have said yes
When you asked me to marry you on the plane I thought you were joking around about our cover as newly weds for the Rome mission. I didn't think you were serious. I thought it was a CIA ring provided to you for our cover and that you weren't serious. I thought it was a fucking prop, Chuck. I had no idea it was YOUR ring, no idea that you were really asking ME to marry you, not your handler Agent Carrie Webb.
I reacted very badly. I told you I would only marry for true love. I thought you knew I loved you, that I would have said yes to a real proposal but I thought you were just using our cover. You've never told me you loved me…when I was awake. But I should have seen "Carrie, I love you" in your eyes every morning when I awoke, every time we made love and every time you kissed me good night. I saw it but didn't know what it was. Now I do and I'm so sorry baby for hurting you. I have the ring. Casey gave it to me when he found it after you threw it away and got on that damned Blackbird.
I didn't know you'd busted your ass before we left buying the ring with Ellie's help. I'm so sorry and I've cried a million tears since you left.
But I never told you I loved you, did I. I never said, Chuck I love you and I'll always love you no matter what, but I didn't and I'll correct that mistake every day of my life by telling you, I love you, Chuck Bartowski, now and forever more. So when this is all over, baby, ask me again, please? True love is hard to find and I've found mine.
This time I'll say yes.
Carrie
With a shriek of anger she hurled the damning evidence of her plan's failure and her loss off the balcony where it struck the parking circle with a satisfying crash that nearly matched the shattering of her heart.
Little voices she'd long-suppressed whispered to her in the back of her mind 'You should have told him. He's not like you. He's not like us. He thought we left him. We did. We never told him we loved him. Now you blame him for not waiting, for not understanding? We never asked him to wait. We never told him the plan. We heard what he told the General. He'd lost everything he'd ever loved, twice… and now you would have us hurt him again? Deceive him again?'
"No" whispered Sarah Walker, "no, not again."
She left the balcony, closing the doors behind her and walked through the dark living room and slipped into her own bed, hoping that when she awoke she could begin loving him a little less each day, think of him a little less each night, and maybe in time, she would find true love again. Only this time, she'd tell him.
There is no agony greater than loving someone who used to love you.
Hotel d'ella Vincenzi D'Amato
Rome
John Casey reluctantly knocked on the door of room 2512 and patiently waited for it to be answered. It was only 6:30am and everyone had had a late night and deserved a little rack time. But this was important and doing it over the phone was impossible. It had to be done in person. It was only right.
The door opened a crack, a puffy-eyed Carrie Webb stared at him, trying wake up, trying to suppress the dreadful meaning of a late night visit from her partner. If it were good news, he'd have called. She closed the door enough to clear the night latch and gestured for him to come in. She sat down on the edge of her bed, hugging herself.
John Casey was in full military uniform complete with decorations and medals for both valor and achievement and the various badges of his craft. He looked like he'd rather be anywhere but there.
"Oh, God, Casey, not Chuck, please, God, not Chuck."
"He's gone, Carrie. All three of them are gone. Bad planning, bad intel, bad luck, we'll never know. Their bodies were dumped off on the steps of the American Consul in Bosaso. It wasn't pretty but it looked to be quick so at least he didn't suffer."
Then John Casey came to a rigid position of attention and presented her with an American Flag as the widow of a fallen warrior. And someone else started knocking on the door.
John Casey reluctantly knocked on the door of room 2512 and patiently waited for it to be answered. It was only 6:30am and everyone had had a late night and deserved a little rack time. But this was important and doing it over the phone was impossible. It had to be done in person. It was only right.
The door was flung open and an hysterical Carrie Webb threw herself at him sobbing "he's not dead, Casey, he's not dead. He can't be dead, please, don't give me a flag…" Uh oh, bad dream time.
"Hey, he's fine, I just talked to him. I came over because he needs clothes and stuff and you took his luggage to your room. I need to get the Boss some clothes unless you really want him displaying his wares all over Somalia? And I thought it would give you some time to maybe write him a little note I could tuck in, y'know one of those mushy things women write to men when… ah, Hell, partner, if you can send him an I-Love-You email, you can write one out by hand. I think he needs to hear from you. He wants to hear from you."
She became devious Carrie. "How are the cases being shipped, John?"
"By air. We're using a USAF transport to haul freight and stuff all over for us so we're making a special trip to Bosaso to take the Boss some clothes and some files and a laptop. Beckman wants enhanced commo down there so he's getting a secure sat-comp that's ultra-secret. You've got about a hour to get it done, Carrie."
She looked at Casey with the saddest eyes, still red and puffy "I'm not writing him a letter, John. You and I both know the situation is far beyond a letter. "
"Damn it, Webb, you and I both know that Bartowski is the second most stubborn bastard on the planet about some things. You need to make this right. Right now. And this is the easiest way to do it."
"No, it isn't the easiest way, John. It's a face-to-face situation. That's why you're going to assign a qualified protection agent to accompany that super-secret, ultra-spiffy Sat-Comp to the Consulate in Bosaso."
Office of the US Consul General
Bosaso, Somalia
"You have a diplomatic package for a Mr. Carmichael, I believe? I was told to pick it up at 4pm."
Bryce Larkin flashed his ID to the secretary who had already identified him via facial recognition program the minute he'd entered the building. He was on the special list.
"Yes, sir, and the packages came with an escort who will not permit them to leave her sight until proper authentication is provided by Mr. Carmichael. Its security rating is the highest I've ever seen."
That both irritated and intrigued Larkin. A high rating and an executive escort? Must be some of that high tech nerd stuff Chuck still fools around with.
The secretary directed him to a private conference room where the escorting agent would again verify his credentials and accompany the shipments to Mr. Carmichael. Larkin felt this was a bit over the top for something this patently simple but went along with it.
"Agent Webb, this gentleman is here to pick up the shipments for Mr. Carmichael."
Carrie Webb looked up from the folder she had been reviewing and looked at Bryce Larkin for the very first time. She sniffed. She was not impressed. There was no way that this asshole could beat Chuck at anything unless he cheated. No way. A moneyed pretty-boy from the looks of him. And she'd seen a lot of them working her way through grad school. She stood and walked around the conference room table and faced him.
"Cardinal" Sign
Bryce Larkin's mind went blank. The young agent was elegantly dressed in a white linen business suit, cobalt blue blouse and those 4-inch heels he loved and honey-brown hair in a French braid. A vision. And his mind went south.
"Cardinal" Sign
Protocol dictated that if the challenge was not met the second time, deadly force was authorized.
Larkin's mind came back on line when he heard the click of a safety being removed.
"Robin, Jesus, Robin" he said in alarm. These people were nuts!
"Actually, it's just Robin. 'Jesus' is not on the list."
"Get the Boss' stuff and let's get out of here, Agent Larkin. I could use a cold beer." She was playing with him. He didn't know it, but she did. And she was going to enjoy the hell out of it.
'Wait, I'm here for Agent Carmichael's stuff, I think you have the wrong man here."
"Chuck has a lot of names these days, Agent Larkin, just like you do. Now go get the Boss' stuff. It's not nearly this damned hot in Rome and I don't want to appear before him looking unprofessional."
"Please, Agent Larkin, can we please get this show on the road?"
Hotel Juba
Suite of Kings
Carrie waited patiently while Larkin got 3 of the hotel porters to carry the 2 suitcases and 4 equipment cases up to the suite.
Larkin knew Sarah was out taking some touristy photographs of the probable location of ibn Faud and Chuck was catching up on 36 hours of lost sleep. He decided to grill this young agent for some additional intel on Bartowski. He didn't appreciate the way he'd assumed command in front of Sarah. He thought it was unprofessional. And he didn't like it when he came off as a total tool in front of her.
Just as he was about to begin his mini-interrogation, Agent Webb began to unbraid her hair and shake it out. There was something incredibly sensual about the way she did that. She ran a brush through her hair and then grabbed one of the lighter cases and started to open Chuck's bedroom door without knocking.
"Hey, you can't just barge in on Chuck. He's dead tired and has been dropped from a plane, cooked in the desert and had a generally all-around bad day. He hasn't slept since"
"Since he boarded the Blackbird in Savannah. Actually, since he left L.A. Yeah, I know. I was there. Now, if you'll excuse me, the Boss needs his clothes and things." She opened the door and walked in, closed the door. He heard the distinct click of the lock. What the hell…?
It was dark in his room. And nice and cool. The A/C was running full blast trying to keep up with the African sun. She stripped off her clothing, folding it neatly on the bureau and started to crawl in between the sheets when she remembered something. She went over to her purse and removed a blue velvet case and returned to the bed, sliding between the sheets and assuming her favorite sleeping position, the box clutched tightly in her hand and took a short nap. She was tired and that damned dream had really upset her. A flag. For a widow.
Chuck awoke from a disturbing dream. Carrie was naked lying on his chest, straddling his waist with her face on his chest, arms around him, snoring softly and making little snuffling sounds of what Chuck used to call Happisleep.
He would really miss that. A lot.
He tried to get up but couldn't. He felt a moment of panic.
"I love you, Chuck, now go back to sleep, baby, you've had a long day."
This time he did manage to sit up bringing a slowly awakening Carrie with him still clutching him in her protective death grip.
"What are you doing here, Agent Webb? Rome is that way." He pointed in the direction of north.
"Ask me again, Chuck, please ask me again. I sent you an email explaining that it was all a misunderstanding. Please ask me again" handing him the small blue box. "Please, baby, I thought it was just your way of giving me a CIA cover ring for Rome. I didn't know it was your ring."
"Marry me, Carrie Webb, marry me as soon as we get back to Rome. I love you, and I never told you that. I thought it a lot but I never told you. I'm so sorry for that."
"Yes, I'll marry you. But you have told me you loved me. You said it in every kiss, every touch, and every time we made love. I just didn't know what it was.
Chuck slipped the ring on her finger, a perfect sizing and a perfect match.
"Oh, crap, Chuck, Ellie's going to have a bird. Elliejoy is practically a wedding in itself. We can't cheat her out of that. We'll have to wait. Do you mind, Chuck?"
"Yes. I do mind. I've learned how tenuous and fragile life is. I don't want to wait. Ellie understands. I told her when we got the ring. It's Rome. Soon as the mission here is done, we're Mr. and Mrs. Bartowski, um, unless you want to keep Webb for the job? I mean it would be confusing if someone ran into"
"Chuck, quit blabbering on and kiss me."
Sarah entered the suite and saw Bryce sitting on one of the couches, beer in hand. He looked perplexed. He looked like he'd been confronted with an insurmountable obstacle that he had to overcome. It was an unusual look for Bryce since normally everything came easily to him.
"Hey, partner, what's with the long face and determined look?"
"I went down and picked up the cases for Chuck. They were "escorted" by another agent. What's weird is, well, did you know that Chuck's code name is HARDDRIVE and that his people, including that prick, John Casey, refer to him as "The Boss"? Not to his face, of course, but it's strange. I tried to keep him out of this and within two years he's become, I don't know, he's become unChuck. I know that sounds really lame but it's how I have to describe it. The one guy I felt should never have to face the darkside is some kind of frikkin' Jedi Master. The only friend I've ever had is now… I don't know. He shouldn't be here, Sarah, he should be off doing great things not skulking around in the desert like a Ghost."
She went over and sat down beside him and took his beer and finished it off. She knew he hated that. She wanted an AngryBryce fully on his game not this introspective wuss. She got up and got them two more beers. Singha, this time. His favorite, not hers.
"And that bothers you, Bryce? That your loser nerd buddy from Stanford has become what we are both still trying to achieve? Does that kinda sum it up for you?"
He looked at her in new appreciation. "Exactly. Do you think the intersect did that?"
Chuck's door opened and he came out with his arm around Carrie. She'd dressed again, exactly as she'd looked when last Bryce saw her. Makeup perfect, not a hair out of place, but the frigid bitch he'd driven to the Hotel Jubal was gone. There was something almost radiant about her.
"Do I think the intersect did it? No, Bryce, I think she did it" pointing at Carrie with her beer bottle. "That and True Love, Bryce." Sarah smiled a hello to Carrie and went to greet the couple. They had plans to make and blood to shed. True Love would have to wait for Sarah Walker, this time.
"Come on, sweetie, get your head in the game here. We have things to do." She offered her hand to Bryce and pulled him up and turned to Chuck. "What's the plan, Boss" And it wasn't hard to ask, not at all.
"Beckman, secure"
"Bartowski, secure. We're moving the op up to tomorrow, General. Sarah's tumbled some intel that the Sarin is already in the target cities. It's about at the end of its shelf life so you may want to recrunch the casualty estimates. Still too damned many if they complete their attacks".
"Understood. Is your extraction route secure? We have 3 tickets in the queue waiting to be planted in the local terminal's system. All we're waiting on is the date and time. Anything further?"
"Ah, General, make that 4 tickets, please. We've been reinforced from Rome and will require an additional seat. All our ID's and passports are secure with entry stamps so we're good to go there".
"Also, General, I don't have a sense of foreboding or anything but could you have the beneficiary on my"
"Already taken care of. Congratulations, Chuck. Beckman out."
"How does she do that? Hey, Carrie, I asked Beckman to…"
A/N: There's more coming but I'm taking a break on Memorial Day. I got a cemetery to visit. Please remember why Americans get the day off.
