Nik's Notes: Other than Mr. Potatoasshole, most of you liked it. I did. This one is long, sorry, I know your attention spans are measured in nanoseconds. I found tiny synonyms for the big words he used. R&R for updatd.
Pacific View Condominiums
Venice, CA
5AM
Charles Carmichael ran at least two miles every morning and again in the evenings along the wet sand packed firmly by the receding tide. This was his time with Jenny. His mind called up a specific instance and basically he relived it. It wasn't about sex. It was about being with her in spirit. Some mornings he couldn't concentrate enough to really get into it and those mornings he was a bear.
This morning he was mulling over unpacking 'their' stuff that was stacked in boxes in 'his' bedroom, the much smaller of the two. He only slept in it. The larger bedroom he'd set aside for his partner, 'the wife'.
His bedroom contained his clothing issue and his watch, nothing more. The Rolex was in a glass case on the dresser. He never wore it. He wore the new NSA watch with the GPS gizmo that allowed his teammates to know where he was and a 'panic button' to summon aid.
He felt his cell vibrate against his side and slowed and stopped, totally winded.
"What?" He was lucky to manage one word at a time. His lung capacity was slowly recovering but as the physio guy had told him, 'his tidal volume was only 2/3 of what was normal for someone his size' after the accident.
"Miller, secure. That's not proper procedure, Charles." She was laughing at his lack of proper decorum and adherence to protocols.
"Miller, what…do you…want?"
"Don't push yourself so hard, Charles. It'll come back. How many miles today?"
"Still can't…manage…more than…two." He hated feeling weak. It made him feel inferior and he hated that even more. He wanted to be who he was before the assassination attempt – at least physically since he could never get back what he'd lost or whom.
"That's still pretty good for someone who was almost dead 9 months ago. Beckman called. We have a mission. Well, Casey and I have a mission. You're in the commo van doing your Brainiac thing. I get to play soldier and Casey's already bitching about the mission objective. I'll pick you up in 20 minutes. Please shower – for me?"
"What? You don't like…sweat?"
"Oh, baby, I'd love to make you sweat…"
"Twenty minutes." She was laughing when he disconnected. She loved teasing him. But deep down inside, she'd meant it.
Agent Sarah Walker stormed out of the detention area in an almost blind rage. She'd been interrogating a Fulcrum operative that her team had captured the previous night during a raid on a suspected Fulcrum Hive. She'd directed four teams of agents and this piece of scum was the only survivor. The rest were either dead or had escaped capture.
She was angry because she'd been stopped short of getting the information she needed.
'Interrogation is supposed to be brutal and violent. He had no right stopping it. If he couldn't handle the gore he should have stayed in the team room until I was done. It's not like the scumbag is blind. He's still got an eye left.'
She confronted her temporary partner in the corridor.
"Don't you ever interrupt my interrogation again. I was this close," she held her fingers an eyeball's width apart, "to getting the information I needed and you had to get in my way. Shaw, if you're too weak to handle the questioning, stay out of my way. Go read the regulations you're so fond of quoting. Go spar with one of your boyfriends but if you ever interrupt or impede me again, I'll fucking geld you!"
"You're nuts, Walker, you're a danger to the Team. This vendetta of yours will get one of us killed some day. You rush into the fray like you don't give a shit who gets hurt. I'm glad you're transferring out to some soft job because you need the break."
She turned on her heel and stalked away. 'Is that what this new assignment is? A vacation for the burnout? I'm not a burn out. I'm…I'm not. I have a purpose, a cause, a reason. I'm not a burn out!'
Warehouse Complex
LAX Freight Terminal
8pm
"Let's review the mission. Miller and I go in the target storage area and locate the container and shipping crates in question. Chuck, you monitor and run the mission using our helmet cam feeds and keep us on track. We open the target crates and film everything. If we find what we're looking for, we take it and egress. Questions?"
There were none. Casey and Miller ran to the fence, cut the lock free and entered the compound. Casey forced the lock on the metal door and they were in. Chuck monitored the cam feeds and directed them to the supposed location of the target shipping containers containing the target crates.
Chuck heard a truck pull up to the fence and looked out the window and saw a UPS truck discharging armed men in civilian clothes who formed up and began checking the fence perimeter. Someone, probably Casey, had tripped an alarm.
"Guys, bad guys with automatic weapons in civilian clothes on their way to you. Get out! Head north to the main entrance. I'll meet you there. Keep the feeds coming and I'll direct until…shit." He was out of breath again.
"Bartowski, stay in the damned van! Meet us at the front door. We're moving now."
He needed to distract the bad guys. He took a trank pistol from the bag and two 9mm pistols and walked over to where two of the bad guys were standing 'guard' on the fence gate.
"Hey, I'm looking for a job. I'll do anything. Sweep floors…night watchman…anything. I really need…a job."
"Get the fuck out of here. This is private property. We ain't got no jobs for someone who looks like death warmed over. Move it. And get that piece of shit van outta here." The guy emphasized his point with a shove. The other guy walked over and told him to follow the others to find the 'trespassers'.
"Fella, we don't have any work for you. Sorry. Here, this is all I got. This is police business and…you don't want to get involved. Maybe someone at the terminal can use you. Sorry. Take the money and get something to eat. You look like you haven't eaten in a while."
He'd smiled and pressed two $20 bills into Chuck's hand and then turned to follow his partner. His kindness saved his life. Chuck pulled the trank pistol and shot him in the back.
Chuck followed the other guy into the warehouse, telling Casey that five were in pursuit, heavily armed in civilian clothes.
"Casey, one's down at the fence. Tranked. I'm following them in." He studiously ignored Casey curses and Miller's entreaties for him to leave them and get in the van.
He quickly found the 'pusher' from the fence and shot him with a silenced pistol. He stepped over the body and then dog trotted toward the target following the sounds of a fire fight.
"Bartowski, get out! Take the van and get out. We're trapped in a damned cul de sac of containers."
"Will do, Casey. Good luck." He continued on, running toward the sound of the guns.
The Fulcrum agents were on either side of the alley that formed the cul de sac. They were taking turns firing down the alley and return fire was inaccurate and sporadic.
He shot the first two with the silenced pistol and drew the immediate attention of the remaining two who opened up on his position behind some crates.
"Casey, now would be a good time to catch…them from behind…please?"
He was pinned down and he knew they'd use fire and maneuver to catch him in the open and then it would be all over. Maybe I'll luck out and find Jenny in Heaven – assuming I pass by St. Peter. Jenny wouldn't have had any problems. She's probably got her wings already. My angel is an angel. I like that.
He hadn't planned on dying just yet but he missed her and this seemed like an opportunity to end things without the mortal sin of suicide. Sometimes he damned his Catholic upbringing. Suicides didn't go to heaven. He'd have to at least try to save himself.
He unscrewed the silencer and threw it aside. With a pistol in each hand he stepped out into the corridor and blazed away at the advancing Fulcrum agents. Casey chose that moment to open up from behind them and they were dead in less than two seconds.
"Bring the van around. Carina caught one in the ass. She can't walk. Shit, no prisoners. I told you to stay in the van, Chuck…"
"No, you told Bartowski to stay in the van, and he's still there. Carmichael came to cover your ass. I'll be right back with the van. Clean up the trash, John, and bring Miller out with you."
Casey carried Carina out to the main entrance and waited impatiently for the van. He was going to kill Bartowski…shit, Carmichael. The bastard splits hairs.
Chuck drove up in the van and helped Carina into a seat. "Well, Miller, someone got a piece of ass tonight…neener neener."
"Screw you, Carmichael. And who the hell is this?" The Good Samaritan was trussed up and asleep on the floor of the van.
"A prisoner. A nice guy, too. Gave me $40 and told me to get a meal. Betcha he'll sing with minimal persuasion. Casey, the computer chips are in that cardboard box on the floor. Don't kick them around."
Carina started to snicker but stopped with a gasp of pain. "Hey, lie down on your stomach and let me take a look at your boo-boo, sweetie."
"You wish, Charles. It'll keep. It was a ricochet and I pulled the bullet out already. Didn't do much more than pinch and hardly broke the skin although it's bleeding like a…"
"Maybe Casey will kiss it and make it better, Miller." Chuck started to laugh but it turned into coughing.
"Chuck, you all right back there?" Casey was driving the van back to the Castle. There was still a lot to do. Casey's report would include Carmichael's failure to follow protocols and his blatant disregard for his own safety.
"Yeah. Just breathed wrong."
Later that night Carina and Casey had a long conversation about the mission. He'd been right. The Fulcrum agent had caved and sung like a bird. Casey hated it when Carmichael was right even if he didn't say 'I told you so'.
"John, Chuck's got a death wish. You saw what he did. He just stepped out into the alley and let fly, not caring a whit for any protection. He had his damned vest unzipped!"
"He saved us both. I think he forgot about the vest. It was pretty warm in the van and he probably unzipped it and then forgot in the rush of the fight. It's how he always operates, Miller, on the edge. He's an adrenalin freak, I swear that's all." It was Beckman's decision that counted. He'd have to see what fallout developed from his report on the raid.
"Well, I think he needs counseling and maybe a doctor to manage his diet and rehab. I'm going to send the General a message about it. The most she can do is tell me 'no'."
Beach front
Pacific View Condominiums
Venice, CA
He ran another two miles and then walked another mile as a cool-down. He went through the deep breathing exercises designed to stretch and strengthen his lung capacity and endurance. He hated wheezing and gasping for breath but it was better than the respirator. That had been hell.
He was putting it off. He had to unpack their stuff and sort through what he wanted to keep and what he wanted to store or throw out. He knew he'd feel better once he got it done but he was afraid of what he'd find. He couldn't deal with too much. Maybe after he took a shower he'd open just one and then open another the next night. It would give him something to do.
Watergate Hotel
Washington, DC
10PM
"Walker, secure."
"This is General Beckman. Please make arrangements to be in my office by 2pm tomorrow. You'll be here for at least one week, maybe two, and then you'll be posted to Team Carmichael. Bring whatever you'll need. A cleaner team will pack and ship your remaining personal items to Los Angeles."
"General, does my Director know about this? I'm in the middle of closing out operations and am not finished."
"You're coming at his request. Have a nice evening, Agent Walker."
'Shit! I'll bet that little shit Daniel Shaw had something to do with this. He's too soft to be an agent. He's too involved with rules, regulations and protocol to get anything done. I pity my team.'
She threw everything she owned into the two American Touristers and then made arrangements for a car to take her to FT Meade. She slept and for once didn't dream. A nice change.
Pacific View Condominium Complex
Venice, CA
'Shit. Why couldn't I have picked another box to unpack. It had to be our pictures. Why couldn't it have been bills or underwear or anything else?'
He was holding their wedding portrait and running a fingertip across her face. She looked so happy and so beautiful. He set the picture aside and took out another one. The casino picture. He face was fuller but she still looked like his Jenny. She was still beautiful. She was his angel.
He wiped the tears from his cheeks and placed both pictures on his dresser and went in and took a shower and slept without dreams for the first time since the accident.
NSA Headquarters
FT Meade, MD
2PM
Diane Beckman personally met Agent Walker at the entrance to the executive offices and walked her through the security scanner. She had suspicions and she wanted confirmation. Too many coincidences to be 'coincidences'.
"Agent Walker, this is new technology, installed just yesterday, and we're having bugs worked out but would you please place your right palm on the display?"
She did as she was told and was impressed with the speed and efficiency of the confirmation of her identity. The CIA had done a superb job in placing all of Jennifer Burton's physical records in the file with Sarah Walker's and the reverse also.
Alarms sounded, doors locked and several guards appeared with automatic weapons trained on the intruder – Sarah Walker.
"Who are you? Who sent you? Take her to interrogation, do a strip search and a body scan. I'll be along in a few moments. Do not start questioning her without me."
She turned from a shocked Sarah Walker and stormed off to her offices. By God, she would have answers.
"Graham, secure." He hated it when Beckman called him on his cell.
"You piece of shit! How could you? You reported her as DOA and she's alive! What kind of man are you, Langston? What purpose does this deception serve?"
"Um, Diane, I don't have a clue what you're ranting on about. How about a hint since your panties are obviously painfully twisted."
"Jennifer Burton Bartowski! She's alive and in my holding cell. You reported her dead on arrival. Why? You knew she was married. Why have you done such a foul thing?"
"How - ? Wait, her husband was one of yours? We checked him out when they started dating. Standard operating policy, you know that. He was a harmless civilian. We stayed clear of their personal involvement except to forbid her to divulge her true profession. He grounded her and gave her stability."
"Lanny, we reported him DOA as standard operating procedure. We assumed an assassination attempt on our agent. Our vetting of Jennifer Burton didn't turn up a damned thing. Oh, shit, if this wasn't so heart breaking it would be funny." She laughed bitterly.
"So what? I don't mean to be callous…oh, crap. He's alive, isn't he? How did you twig to her?"
His mind was going a million miles a second evaluating options and ending up with a horrible moral dilemma. Well, the Agency dealt with those every day. Deny, deny, deny.
"You replaced everything about 'Burton' with Walker's data but you couldn't reach my files. Our new identification scanners ran the palm print against the Federal database and confirmed her identity as 'Sarah Walker, CIA' but out test database was still uploaded and it was from 'my' files. Up popped 'Jennifer Burton Bartowski'. Fingerprints don't lie, Langston."
Beckman tried to put herself in Graham's position and examine the situation as it had unfolded that evening. His agent was the probable target, not her civilian husband. She survived with injuries and to forestall future attempts, they 'let her die'. She had done the exact same thing.
"Director, our SOPs have screwed this situation up. It's a real FUBAR."
"I suggest we tell her, reunite them, and let them work it out once we explain things. Since you discovered the 'error', you get the privilege of explaining things. I guess this is a good thing, right, Diane? I mean, you do want to make this right? We can reassign her, put her back in L.A. with a new identity, get her back with her husband, explain the surgeries, get her therapy…"
Beckman started to laugh and Graham was momentarily shocked. She never laughed, not this way. There was an almost hysterical and maniacal twist to it. He shuddered.
"Your agent is being assigned to Team Cardinal and is going to partner with the intersect host. That's hysterical, Director. Absolutely hysterical. Charles Carmichael is a construct, a 'reborn'."
"Oh. My. God. He's Charles Bartowski. He's her husband. She's his wife. They're partners." He tried not to laugh but couldn't help himself. Fate has dumped a load of crap on those two and somehow…
"Should we tell them?"
"No. I'll keep you in the loop. Langston, we really need to work closer together if we're going to have 'joint' operations. We need to open our databases to one another, especially given the number of defections to Fulcrum. We can figure out how to update the intersect files and use it to ferret out double-agents."
"Fine. Get Combine approval. I suppose we'll have to bring in DIA, State, Treasury and DoD. It's going to get ugly."
"I'm going to interview Walker, come clean on her dead husband's involvement and leave enough breadcrumbs that she should make a connection eventually over time. He's been through the plastics shop and doesn't look quite the same, plus he's…unstable. Springing this on him might just drive him over the edge. First of all, he won't believe me and secondly, no matter what your agent tells him he'll think it's a plot to keep him in check and in control. No, if this is to have a happy ending it's got to be their own doing."
"Diane, that makes no sense at all. Sure, she's been through the plastics shop too, but surely if they just talk, share experiences and common memories…"
"Lanny, I've done too damned good a job of convincing him that the enemy would do anything to get their hands on the intersect. If she comes to him with the truth, you said she's been through plastics, he'll assume an op against him and either go off the grid or kill her and report back for reassignment. It's what we've trained him to do. 'Kill the opposition. Kill any threat to the intersect. Self-terminate if captured or compromised.' It's too damned risky."
Beckman terminated the conversation and sat back and planned her next move. Obviously she'd have to tell Sarah Walker some of the truth. If she dealt with everything up to the night of the assassination attempt, planted a few cues and hints, things should work out.
She called her assistant and issued orders.
"Bring Agent Walker to my office. There's been another database error. Have a team tear down the scanner and recalibrate it."
Diane Beckman met Agent Sarah Walker in the reception area of her office suite. She didn't look anything like Jennifer Bartowski. Blonde hair, different bone structure. She even carried herself differently.
Sarah followed the little General into her office and took the chair the General pointed to.
"Agent Walker, my apologies. Our new scanner initially matched up your data and correctly identified you but sounded an alarm when an older database was consulted…our test database. It's new technology and prone to glitches."
"Would you like coffee, Jenny?"
"No, ma'am, thank you. I…" Her face turned white and her hands started to shake so she planted them together in her lap. She looked at the General with such a pitiful look that Beckman changed her approach immediately.
"Chuck was an amazing young man, Agent Walker. You both were very happy and I'm so sorry for your loss." She watched as countless emotions rippled her face.
"I, I suppose I could deny it but obviously your technology is superior to the CIA's or else Director Graham lied to me for some unknown reason. And yes, General, we were incredibly happy. How did you come to know my husband?" 'Please don't tell me he was an agent! Please, don't tell me it was all a sham, some damned NSA operation that required him to marry me…please…'
"When you married Bartowski, Major Casey ran scans and forwarded them here and we filed them under 'Jennifer Burton Bartowski'. The CIA couldn't reach my files."
"So why are we having this conversation, General?" 'She's going to tell me it was all a sham, so damned mission requirement.'
"He was an agent, well, no, he was an operative and asset long before he met you, Jenny. I recruited him myself out of Stanford. Y'know, don't you, that he had no idea you were an agent. He just met a girl, fell in love, and married her. He wanted to tell you but I forbade it. I told him I'd have you taken into custody and he'd never see you again. I guess it was the one time he didn't call my bluff. You were that important to him."
"Why are you telling me all this? I suppose this means I'm off your L.A. team."
"I just wanted you to know what a special man Chuck was. As for L.A., it's your choice, really. Are you ready to face the ghosts and demons of your past and embrace the good memories? I'd like you to accept the assignment. I think it would do wonders for your outlook on life. He'd want you to take it. God knows Cardinal could benefit from the influence of a strong woman in his life again."
"I want in, General. I want in." She felt something like a smile spread slowly across her face, making her unused muscles stretch into unfamiliar positions. A smile.
"Fine. Let's get your travel arrangement finalized and get you back in the game. Your new partner…I just hope you'll have patience with him, Agent Walker. He's not what you're used to. He's willful, stubborn, a major league jackass but incredibly talented and…" She stopped and looked almost at a loss for words.
"Yes, General, and…"
"I was going to say a risk taker but that would be inaccurate. He is. But your primary function is to keep Agent Carmichael from getting himself killed. He is despondent over a personal tragedy and is… No, he won't commit suicide, not actually, no. He'll willingly let someone else kill him. Your job is to keep that 'someone else' from being successful."
She nodded her head, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
"Agent Walker, Jenny Bartowski is dead. Let her rest in peace. We'll never speak of this again, Sarah, understand?" She would broach the subject of Agent Miller's email describing Carmichael's condition and mental health before Walker left. The After Action report on the raid on the Fulcrum site would provide interesting reading for the young blonde woman and a trail of breadcrumbs if she was as intuitive as her husband.
Sarah nodded her head, not trusting herself to speak. She'd been given a great gift – knowledge about her husband and what he'd really been but the General had also put her fears to rest. He had loved her for her, not for a damned job.
"I assumed you would. There are briefing packets on the members and classified After Action reports on Team Intersect waiting for you in your quarters at the Guest Lodge.
Sarah Walker had two weeks to get ready for L.A. and her suicide-bent partner, Charles Carmichael.
NSA Guest Quarters
FT Meade, MD
Sarah read the report again for the 4th time. Her new partner was a physical wreck from injuries sustained on an unrelated mission and had only just been returned to duty. He was 28 and had been an agent for nearly 6 years. Some of the missions were routine and mundane, exactly like hers in the CIA while others were…terrifying.
She read about Team Cardinal in Iran that resulted in injuries due to an equipment malfunction, the assassination of minor drug smugglers, the elimination of several Fulcrum data nodes, intel centers and an unsuccessful attack on a Hive that sidelined the team while Major Casey recovered from gun shot wounds.
The team had 16 successful ops while her team had managed only four and the last one was a total bust thanks to Shaw.
The reports had been heavily censored whenever domestic locations were involved, most dates were redacted and all mention of background after 2005 were censored. She thought that was curious and began rereading the reports to see what else she might have missed by its absence.
The report that covered the episode captioned as the 'Fox and the Hounds' changed Sarah's mind a little. The 'Cardinal' was relatively new to Agent status. He had been classified as an 'operative/asset since he was recruited.
The reports in the past two months mentioned another operator working with the team under cover as the wife of the military team leader but no mention of any other members until two months' past when dates began to appear again.
The last report synopsis read like some summary for an action movie except that the actors were not mentioned by name except in conclusion.
'Team infiltrated suspected intel transfer point. Two team members entered warehouse while [This entry deliberately left blank] remained in commo unit in immediate vicinity of target and monitored and [This entry deliberately left blank] for any intel captured through helmet cams. Entry team tripped sensors and six (6) heavily armed Fulcrum agents arrived in civilian dress and followed team into target warehouse. [This entry deliberately left blank] left commo van against orders and killed one of two Fulcrum agents left to guard the access point and captured and secured the other. [This entry deliberately left blank] then eliminated two more Fulcrum agents and relieved his team mates who were pinned down. [This entry deliberately left blank] again disobeyed orders to return to a secure location and assaulted remaining enemy agents who were terminated by either [This entry deliberately left blank] or Major Casey. Agent Miller suffered a GSW to left buttock. Captured Fulcrum agent divulged critical intel and was removed to holding facility in Los Angeles. Neither Major Casey nor the Cardinal were injured.
She now had three names to work with. She went back and reread the team reports and found several more references to 'Major Casey' but only a few to 'the Cardinal' or 'Cardinal' and only the most recent report contained references to 'Agent Miller'.
Carmichael's briefing package was heavily censored and was basically useless. He'd been recruited while attending [redacted], had a civilian job [type/location redacted], and had married [redacted] but Sarah saw his that his file listed his current marital status as 'single'.
There were more contradictions than facts. She assumed that he was divorced. Was that the 'personal tragedy' the general had alluded to?
By inference, 'Cardinal' was Charles Carmichael, 'Major Casey' was John Casey but she couldn't find a link to 'Agent Miller' who was probably the newest member of the team and the Major's 'cover wife'.
Sarah spent the next week requalifying with various weapons, learning how to handle new NSA ELINT devices and filling out forms and more forms. She finally felt she was fully integrated into the NSA way of doing things when she was asked to stop by and see General Beckman before the end of the duty day.
NSA Headquarters
FT Meade, MD
Sarah felt uncharacteristically nervous about meeting the General. The meeting was not scheduled and her 'invitation' was delivered by phone by the General's aide. She fiddled with her coffee and then the secretary told her the General would see her. She stood, straightened her suit jacket and knocked and entered the office.
"Agent Walker, your assignment has changed. Instead of Los Angeles, you'll be joining the team en route to Cyprus. Team Intersect is moving quickly to eliminate a seller of two tactical nuclear warheads before he meets up with the buyer. Agent Carmichael will take the place of the seller and then identify the buyer or buyers and eliminate them if possible. Swing by the armory and they'll have your issue ready."
"Ma'am, what about my personal effects? Will they be delivered to Los Angeles?"
The General looked almost sad but answered, "Of course. They'll be delivered to the Carmichael condominium in Venice." She hesitated before continuing, as if searching for the right words.
"Agent Walker, this mission is a Category 9, and is purely voluntary on your part. The Team has already agreed, but I need to advise you that the mission is considered extremely high risk and you may decline to participate without prejudice."
Sarah blinked and thought quickly. All her missions, except the Montreal deal, had been ones and twos. Montreal had been a four, possibly as high as six. This was a 9 and considered basically a suicide mission. 'Of course, it's what he really wants. To die and…but why? He's only 28, for God's sake.'
"Where and where do I join my team, General?"