Scene XXXVI – Casa Bartowski, Chuck's Room
Chuck had never felt so unsettled entering a mission. Granted, he didn't have a ton of experience in the area, but this one had a particularly unsettling feel to it.
After the general's briefing, the team had spent half an hour going over the guest list for the party and another half an hour studying the layout of the house. Then they spent almost an hour trying to cobble together a plan. The last part had turned out to be a fiasco.
Casey was determined to plan out every last detail, in part because that was his nature and in part because he wanted Carina to be kept under control. Carina was determined to go in and wing it, in part because that was her nature and in part because that she would give her more freedom from Casey. Things had degenerated rapidly.
Chuck's instincts were to step in and try to broker some type of compromise, but he really didn't want to get between Casey and Carina and he certainly did not want to choose sides.
Besides, he had done enough already. He desperately hoped the mission would work out; he felt guilty that the team was going into the field at all, and the struggles the team was having putting together a coherent plan didn't help him feel any better about what he had set into motion.
In the end, Casey had put his foot down and told Carina what the plan was, but Carina's attitude had clearly showed that she was going to do exactly what she felt like doing once she set foot in that house. Frustrated, the three had tensely separated about an hour earlier to get dressed for the party.
This was going to be an interesting mission, and very likely not in a good way.
He checked himself in the mirror and adjusted his tuxedo tie for the fourteenth time. While he felt like he was getting pretty good at tying the thing properly, tonight he couldn't seem to get it to sit quite right. Giving up, he checked the clock, sighed, and left to meet the others.
Carina impatiently waited for the pair in the courtyard, her normally straight coppery-colored hair styled into wavy lines that gently framed her stiff countenance. Her arms were folded, her right hand tightly gripping a black clutch purse that matched her black cocktail dress.
Coincidentally, Casey entered the courtyard at the same time as Chuck. Noticing Casey's body language, Chuck quickly corrected himself – it wasn't coincidence at all. Casey, wearing the same classic black-and-white tuxedo combination as Chuck, had the demeanor of a man who didn't want to be where he needed to be. He had likely waited for Chuck to avoid having any more debates with Carina.
Carina's demeanor was similar; she completely ignored Casey's arrival, instead choosing to direct a scintillating smile at Chuck. "Don't you look scrumptious," she gushed as she walked over to him, a hungry overtone coloring her voice. She reached out to straighten his tie, and then pulled a piece of lint from his jacket.
Well, apparently that part of the mission prep hadn't changed with the switch from Sarah to Carina. The gesture was comfortably familiar and off-putting at the same time.
More than anything, he wished Sarah were there to help calm him, and the rest of the team for that matter.
"You look really good in a tux," Carina whispered quietly, shooting him a mysterious little smile as she made one last adjustment to his tie.
Chuck couldn't properly appreciate the compliment, as his stomach was currently engaged with doing flip-flops because of his nervousness. "Thanks," he managed to mutter. "You look just…" He couldn't come up with a way to finish the thought, but she seemed pleased with the implicit compliment.
Lacking an excuse to ignore Casey any longer, Carina turned and stood to Chuck's side. She started eying Casey warily, and he returned the favor.
Chuck, becoming more uncomfortable with each passing second, awkwardly suggested, "Well, shall we get going?" The two nodded, each continuing to stare at the other until Carina broke eye contact as she turned to head to the car.
The way that the planning had gone, Chuck was half-surprised that anyone had thought to obtain a car for the evening. Casey's prejudices had shown, as he had secured a shiny black Cadillac sedan that Chuck thought would have suited an elderly couple far better than the three of them. As sexy as Carina looked in her outfit, she looked especially out-of-place in the front seat of that car.
Looking to distract himself from the mission, he spent a great deal of time thinking about her during the 45-minute drive to Huntington Beach.
After their first meeting, he had written her off as nothing more than a maverick DEA agent who really didn't care about anyone else. But in many ways, she was a lot like Sarah: she had obviously suppressed a large part of her personality in the name of her job.
In addition, he had found himself forced to do some of the same things to keep from revealing what Carina couldn't know, which made him feel closer both to her and to Sarah. He understood more about their situations now.
Still, he was curious why Carina so relentlessly offered herself up to him. While he had done the same for Sarah, albeit making a far different kind of offer, he genuinely cared for her. He found it hard to understand how Carina might be attracted to him in a similar fashion, especially given her repeated comments about how boring she found his life.
So, was sex simply how Carina overcompensated for not being able to get close to anyone? Or was there some larger game she was playing, with sex as her primary weapon?
He thought about that most of the drive, and was unable to come up with a good answer.
Scene XXXVII – Estancia Entrance, Route 4, Ejido, Venezuela
Sarah eased the beautiful silver BMW Z8 convertible onto the long driveway of the estate. She sighed. Bryce had obviously continued his efforts to win her over by finding the sporty car, and she certainly wasn't complaining. However, such a car was meant to be driven with the top down on a beautiful night like tonight, and the two agents could hardly arrive at the party with windswept hair.
Still, like so many other moments, this one was a lot of fun.
A bit rebelliously, she threw the car into a higher gear and sped up the drive, allowing the roar of the engine to echo back at them as they passed through a copse of trees. Bryce looked like he wanted to say something, but held back.
She wondered whether he was holding back because he was recruiting her. She didn't like that idea. "What?" she asked, a bit irritably.
"Nothing," he smiled. "It's … it's just good to have you around again."
She glanced over at him to try to detect whether he was covering up anything. As far as she could tell, he was being genuine, but he was always good at switching gears quickly. Not really knowing what he was thinking, she opted for honesty. "It's good to see you, too," she replied before turning her eyes back to the road.
She had to admit that, as far as the mission went, it did feel good to be with her old partner. Their comfortable teamwork was a sharp contrast to her missions in Los Angeles, where she felt like she always needed to keep one eye on Chuck for his safety, and even on Casey at times. The rapport she had built with Bryce over the years wasn't easily replaced, and she was a little surprised to find how much she missed it.
Sarah pushed thoughts of Bryce aside and slipped into agent mode. The pair had conducted reconnaissance on the site earlier that day using a low-powered telescope from across the valley and had seen nothing to warrant any concern, but they needed to be on the lookout for anything that they might have missed.
As the car whizzed up the hill in the fading light, the pair scanned the property with feigned casualness. There were a scattering of outbuildings along the drive, but they seemed to be relics of the days when the estancia was a fully functioning farm, now either converted into homes or allowed to decay into crumpled heaps. Other than that, there were mainly wide fields and groves of tall trees.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary; there didn't appear to be any security outposts or guard patrols. In fact, the only people they saw were an assortment of bustling valets running back up the hill to claim another car to park down a side road. So far, this event looked to be nothing more than a political fundraiser.
The two recapped their plan for the evening as the car finished the ascent to the main house. Bruce and Sarah Wilkinson, potentially big contributors to COPEI, would size up the party before getting to the second level as quickly as possible. That was the likely spot for any clandestine meetings. They would find out what they could, and then make a call on any additional actions depending on the circumstances.
Sarah downshifted as she approached the circle near the front door, momentarily savoring the deepening timbre of the finely tuned engine as the car slowed to a halt. After climbing out, she exchanged the keys for a ticket from a grinning valet. The boy was obviously pleased with the car that had fallen to him; she shot him a knowing grin of her own.
Walking around the car, she brought herself fully into character as she approached her 'husband'. After a quick visual examination, she linked her arm into Bryce's and they ascended the expansive stone staircase. "You've got a little something on your shoulder, honey," she said in conversational tone.
Sure enough, Bryce had picked up a small amount of some white substance on his shoulder. He brushed it off and smiled his thanks as they reached the landing and entered the front doors.
The foyer was flanked by two beautiful curving staircases with wide, sweeping banisters done in white stone. As the plans had indicated, hallways extended out to the left and right. However, guests were obviously supposed to proceed through the elegant archway passing under the balcony where the two staircases met. Bryce guided Sarah that direction with a gentle hand in the small of her back.
"By the way," he whispered in her ear as they passed into the next room, "you look amazing."
Sarah turned her head at an awkward angle to smile a "thank you". She had ended up opting for the azure backless dress that had first caught her eye, and she had to admit that the dress suited her well. Examining herself in the mirror at the hacienda, she had admired the work the seamstress had done in such a short time. The dress highlighted her frame beautifully, and the color made her eyes absolutely pop.
"You don't look so bad yourself," she said, returning the compliment. Bryce looked good in almost anything, but he was devastating in a tuxedo. Focused on remaining in character, she used the opportunity to offer a flirtatious smile that he quickly returned.
Bryce and Sarah stopped at one of the bars, collecting their usual virgin drinks before they started making the rounds. Not having access to the guest list or any type of research slowed them down; it took a fair bit of conversing in Spanish before they managed to pick up anything useful.
A dowdy matron in a dress much too tight for her plump figure was able to point Bruce and Sarah Wilkinson in the direction of Ramon Martinez, the owner of the house. A few minutes of conversation with the very drunk man suggested that he wasn't a person of concern. However, he did inform them that Gustavo Varela was somewhere on the premises, likely upstairs.
Sarah frowned; Bryce and she had agreed that upstairs was the most likely place for Varela to conduct his business with Moreno. Hopefully they weren't too late to eavesdrop.
Excusing themselves, the two made their way back to the bustling kitchen. They meandered in an apparently haphazard fashion, seemingly fascinated by the workings of the kitchen with no destination in mind. The staff soon paid no attention to the pair, and they were able to slip up the back stairway without anyone really noticing.
Scene XXXVIII - 6383 Turnberry Circle, Huntington Beach
The home of Representative Jennings was located off a large cul-de-sac in an expensive golf course community. Uniformed valet attendants had set up a station at the end of the driveway, efficiently spiriting away cars as quickly as they arrived.
Chuck was grateful that the team would finally be exiting the car. Nobody had said a word for at least fifteen minutes; the silence had become downright deafening.
As Carina and Chuck slipped out the passenger side, Casey exited and handed the keys to a disappointed-looking attendant who was wistfully eying the Audi that pulled up behind the Cadillac.
Not wanting the boy to find out just how much power was under the hood of the specially modified car, Casey slipped the teen-ager a twenty and said, "Be gentle on the girl, would you?"
The look of disappointment quickly disappeared from the valet's face. "Yes, sir!" he said eagerly, tucking the bill into his shirt pocket.
As the Cadillac slowly pulled away, Casey joined Carina and Chuck, the pair already linked at the arm. The three walked up the driveway along with a few other guests, following a long, cobalt blue carpet up past the extravagant two-story house and out onto to the golf course. The carpet eventually led past a welcome podium to a tremendous open tent that had been erected on the golf course, away from the house.
Casey gave a subtle groan as he considered the distance between the house and the tent. The raised back patio had a wide set of five steps leading onto a grassy hill. The tent was set up a good two hundred feet from the base of the steps; there would be no way to access the house without being noticed by one of the two Secret Service agents standing watch at the top of the steps, let alone defeating whatever other security measures guarded the Congressman's home.
Chuck quickly understood Casey's frustration. If any meetings were to be held, they would be held in the house, which by the looks of things was reserved for a small subset of those in attendance. Their short window of notice about the party had left little time for reconnaissance, but because of the internal squabbling, nobody had even suggested looking into how the party would be set up. Surely the NSA would have had access to the plans for a party at a Congressman's home; they probably could have gotten everything that they could have wanted with a phone call.
He wondered what else the team might have overlooked.
There was no help for it now, so they needed to see if they could locate Veron or Jennings in the tent. Following Casey's lead, the three checked in as their respective Carmichael aliases with a pair of beautiful young women standing at the podium. The agents continued down the carpet towards the tent.
The three entered the covered area. They stopped to collect their bearings.
The broad white canvas of the tent covered a significant portion of the 15th fairway. Several hundred people clad in fine evening wear mingled noisily, nearly drowning out the string quartet set up in the near corner.
Several dozen tables draped in fine white linen held oversized pink and blue flower centerpieces for the guests who chose to sit to eat the heavy hors d'oeuvres toted by the small army of waiters. A number of others were content to stand in the open spaces around the tables, talking and laughing as they sipped their champagne.
There were no apparent signs of either target.
Desperate to break the silence, Chuck joked, "Well, at least we won't leave hungry," snagging a plate with a spring roll from the loaded tray of a passing waiter. He took a bite, being careful not to spill the peanut sauce onto his tuxedo shirt.
Clearly not in the mood, Casey stared down the two and gruffly responded, "Focus. Eyes sharp,"
Carina gave a curt nod of acknowledgement, refusing to be distracted from the scene. Chuck returned Casey's stare, understanding the implicit instruction to try to flash – and this time, to not let Carina know. He reluctantly set the remainder of his snack on a tray of dirty dishes and gave Casey his own nod of acknowledgement.
They needed to find their targets in a hurry; they really had no idea if or when a meeting would take place. To cover ground more quickly, Casey split from Chuck and Carina. He indicated he would take the left half of the tent, leaving the right half for them.
As Casey disappeared into the crowd, the couple kept their position by the entrance for a moment. Chuck started scanning the nearby people; he focused on the first face he saw, and flashed.
A deck of cards fanned out on a green felt poker table, surrounded by stacks of chips.
A black-and-white photo of a much younger version of the man pouring gasoline onto an American flag.
Another photo of the man lighting the flag on fire.
A final photo of the man, a maniacal expression on his face, cheer on the conflagration along with several of his compatriots.
The deck of cards on the poker table.
The elderly gentleman standing straight in front of him had been arrested at a flag-burning rally in the late 1960's. Attending a party thrown by a Republican Congressman suggested that his views had shifted somewhat since his days as a left-wing activist.
Chuck stole a quick glance at Carina. Her eyes were intently skimming through the crowd of party-goers, no doubt searching for Veron and Jennings. Apparently, she hadn't noticed anything unusual when he had flashed.
He returned his gaze to the reformed radical. The man was speaking with another silver-haired gentleman; Chuck didn't flash on him, but rather on his much-younger date.
A picture of a tennis stadium court from high above.
A series of pictures of her on the arm of some famous local politicians and personalities.
The picture of the tennis stadium.
Apparently, the woman was an escort for a high-end local service.
The good news was that Chuck was able to control the response to both flashes; Carina still didn't seem to notice anything. Still, if he flashed on two of the first three people he saw in the tent, his self-control was likely to be challenged repeatedly that night.
"Do you have any aspirin on you?" Chuck asked Carina in all seriousness. "I feel a headache coming on."
She gave him a dismissive look. "C'mon. Let's see if we can find our guys."
The two wandered aimlessly into the crowd, with Chuck experiencing flash after unimportant flash. There was no sign of Veron or Jennings.
Scene XXXIX – Estancia, COPEI Fundraiser
The long hallway at the top of the stairs had high ceilings and dark wood paneling. Large paintings and narrow tables with small pieces of art periodically dotted the walls, adding a tasteful elegance to the space.
According to the architectural plans, the hall provided access to the rooms on the back side of the home and a few small rooms in the center, likely powder rooms and closets. Aside from the doors to the various rooms, the back staircase and a wide, open doorway leading to a landing that surrounded the foyer were the only ways to enter the hallway. Currently, the hall was deserted and strangely silent.
Bryce shot a pair of hand signals to Sarah indicating that she should keep watch and that he would listen at the doors. Sarah nodded, taking a position past the first door on the left towards the front entrance to the hallway. The familiar tension that accompanied being in a dangerous place crept into her muscles; as usual, she used the tension to aid her focus.
Bryce put his ear to the first door. Hearing nothing, he started walking to the next, with Sarah paralleling his movements and remaining a few steps in front of him, trusting him to watch her back.
He paused at the second door, listening to a muffled conversation. After a long moment, he moved again, convinced that the people that interested them were not in that room. Again, Sarah paralleled his movements, keeping her ears peeled for the sounds of anyone approaching.
At the third door, Bryce recognized the distinct characteristics of Moreno's voice from the eavesdropping he had done. He reached into his jacket pocket to search for one of the bugs from Sarah's iPod kit, intending to slip it through the gap between the door and the hardwood floor. With the receiver destroyed by his carelessness, they were going to need to risk the higher-powered transmitter.
"Honey, you can never seem to get your tie right," Sarah said critically, approaching him. "What am I going to do with you?"
At the sound of her voice, Bryce shot upright and stepped away from the door, warned that somebody was coming. Sarah walked up to him, giving a quick, intense look that was quickly replaced with a little smile, confirming his thought.
"I know: I'm hopeless," he said with a forced smile of his own.
Sure enough, one of the doors on the right side of the hallway opened up as Sarah took Bryce's tie between her hands, drawing it askew before re-straightening it. Gustavo Varela walked out of the washroom, quickly noting the couple in the hallway and directing a puzzled expression in their direction.
In Spanish, Varela asked, "Mr. and Mrs. … Wilkinson, was it?"
Sarah turned, feigning surprise at his appearance. "Why, there you are, Gustavo. So good to see you again."
He walked over to the couple, extending his hand to Bryce, who quickly shook it. "Likewise. But might I ask what you are doing up here?"
"Oh, I certainly hope we aren't intruding. We were speaking with Ramon Martinez downstairs and he was describing his home to us. It is absolutely amazing."
Bryce affably added, "He also mentioned that we might find you up here; we were hoping to continue our conversation from last night."
Varela frowned. "Surely he told you that upstairs was off-limits?"
Sarah replied, "Actually, he didn't. Of course … how can I put this delicately … he might have forgotten due to his … current state?"
Varela fought to keep his eyes from rolling. "I must apologize for Mr. Martinez. He is a fantastic contributor to our party's efforts, but occasionally he lacks … decorum."
Sarah didn't quite understand every word in Varela's rapid apology, but she understood enough. "We completely understand. We all have our little faults, but that doesn't mean we each can't contribute."
Bryce interjected, "And speaking of contributing, we are very interested in learning more about how we could help COPEI."
Varela's eyes shot over to Moreno's room, but he clearly didn't want to miss an opportunity to bring in two new supporters to bolster his party's coffers. He smiled. "Unfortunately, I have another meeting that I need to finish first. Perhaps I could persuade you to wait for ten or fifteen minutes?"
"Of course. Do you mind if we wander the hallway while we wait?"
"Actually, I will need to ask you wait in a nearby room," he said, directing them towards the fourth door down the hallway. "But perhaps I can send in my secretary to refresh your drinks and keep you company for a bit?"
"That would be lovely," Sarah said.
She opened the door; the room was a small guest room, with a pair of comfortable chairs flanking the double bed and a pair of doors leading to a small balcony, the glass panes revealing the darkness outside.
"Please, make yourselves comfortable," Varela said with a smile. "My secretary will be here in a few minutes." He quickly closed the door, leaving the couple alone.
The smiles quickly faded from Bryce and Sarah's faces. They needed to figure out a way to listen in on the meeting next door, and quickly.
