Chuck vs. the Bank—Chapter 3
I am so, so sorry :(
~Disclaimer: Chuck belongs to NBC and Warner Bros., not me. If it is for sale, please let me know so I can buy it. However, until then, I make no money from this. Please don't sue me!~
"Hey," Chuck said softly, not looking away from the laptop in front of him as he felt Sarah lean down from behind, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissing him gently on the corner of his mouth.
"It's one in the morning, Chuck. Come and get some sleep," she said, wincing slightly to shield her eyes from the harsh glow of the screen in the otherwise dark room.
He sighed, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes and rubbing them. "I'm so close though. It's just this final layer of security that's got me stumped."
She grabbed his wrists firmly, stopping him from rubbing his eyes raw, and pulled him up out of the plush armchair that he was sitting in. "You've not slept properly since the flight. I don't want you to be sleepy when we go back to the bank, and we didn't get much last night either."
"And whose fault is that?" he asked, his tired eyes twinkling.
She smiled gently and let out a monosyllabic laugh before turning serious again and grasping his shoulders. "I'm serious Chuck. Come to bed. Sleep on it. Maybe you'll have some new ideas in the morning." He sighed, replying fine with a large exhalation, and she turned him around to face the bed, before slowly pushing him towards it. Once he was under the covers, she crawled in next to him, and smiled when she felt him hug her from behind.
"You just wanted wanted me here to keel to warm," he said, tightening his grip around her.
"Guilty," she sighed, before dropping off to sleep.
Chuck stayed awake, breathing in the scent of her soft hair and stroking her hands, which were clasped loosely together in front of her chest. His fingers reached the ring that was firmly attached to her finger, and he smiled when he realised that she had never taken it off, even when they were on the mission. He had always figured she would take it off when they were on a mission. 'Protecting the cover' or something. As he ran his finger over the diamond fixed into the centre of the ring, he felt her rolled around in his arms, and found himself staring into her bright blue eyes.
"I told you to go to sleep," she whispered, the sides of her mouth curling up slightly as she poked him gently in the stomach.
"I couldn't," he breathed, the tip of his nose just touching hers. "You kept your ring on."
"Why wouldn't I?" she replied coyly, sliding her hands around him to meet behind his back.
Chuck half-shrugged with one shoulder. Instead of replying, he tightened his arms around her, pulling her closer and pressed a kiss to her lips before resting his forehead on hers. "I love you."
"Me too," she replied, before brushing a quick kiss over his lips. "Now let's go to sleep."
Sarah woke to a cold bed. She hated cold beds. Before she had come to Burbank, she had always tried her hardest to make sure she staying in exactly the same place throughout the night. Given her tendency to not really sleep, just staying half awake and shutting down enough to basically trick herself into thinking she had slept, it wasn't all that hard to stop herself from moving in her 'sleep'. But, since Chuck, she had become used to sleeping properly, and having a bed-warmer lying next to her that she could wrap herself around if she was cold. Due to the lack of Chuck this morning, it was a cold, grumpy Sarah that threw off the covers and flopped down in the seat next to Chuck in front of his computer.
"You're up," he said, distractedly brushing a kiss over lips before turning back to the computer
"Any progress?"
"Yes, actually. Loads."
"Well, at least I didn't up to a cold, empty bed for nothing."
He raised his eyebrow. "There was a flaw in the security they used for their website admin, and I was able to island-hop my way into the customer database. I have the photo."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that."
Sarah looked him for a moment, as if trying to decide on something, and then, quite suddenly, she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the door.
"Wait, we're going now?" Chuck asked, "we know he doesn't arrive before 1pm."
"Just come with me Chuck, I want to do something first."
|CHUCK|
"Miss Burton," the bank manager once again greeted them moments after they had passed through the entranceway to the headquarters, "how nice to see you again. Have you reached a decision on your account?"
"Not quite," Sarah replied, keeping her arm firmly wrapped around Chuck's, "can we carry this on in private."
"Of course, we can go to my office. Will your—" he paused, fishing for the correct word to use.
"Fiancé," Sarah finished for him.
"Will your fiancé be joining us?"
"Yes."
Sarah smiled at him briefly, before he turned and lead them back into his office. Once they were inside he paused for a moment beside the oak cabinet next to the door. "I hope you don't mind; I haven't had my coffee yet," he said by way of explanation as he pulled out a large bottle of whiskey.
"Not at all," Chuck replied, giving a sidelong glance at Sarah before sitting down in the seat opposite the manager's and next to Sarah's.
"So, Miss Burton, what can I do for you?"
"For now, I just want to add Chuck here to the list of account-holders." She felt Chuck stiffen next to her, and smiled.
The bank manager flicked his eyes towards Chuck and back to Sarah. "Very well, is that all for now?"
"Yes, that's everything. We may call in the future once we reach a final decision." He excused himself to go a retrieve the relevant paperwork, and Sarah turned to Chuck. "Chuck," she said, taking his hand into hers, "Chuck."
"Huh, hm?" he replied, shaking out of his stupor.
"Surprise," she said somewhat weakly, "are you okay?"
He bobbed his head for a few moments, looking over her shoulder at the oil painting of the headquarters on the oak panelled wall opposite. "Yea, um. I think so." He paused for a moment. "Sarah I don't want this money. It's not mine. Not ours."
"I know, Chuck," she replied, rubbing soft circles on his hand. "But we don't have time to make a decision now. And when we do; I want us to be able to make it together."
She watched as Chuck's eyes momentarily drifted shut, and then he smiled gently. "I love you."
"I love you more," she quipped, smiling.
"I'm afraid the pile to sign is quite large," the bank manager huffed as he walked through the door lugged a ream of paper in his hands. "It's mostly legalities; you only need to sign three times and then we'll need a photograph for our records."
The manager walked him through the paperwork, but he always glanced towards Sarah looking for her imperceptible nod before he put pen to paper and actually signed anything. She was a Harvard-trained lawyer after all. He finally reached the final page and glanced over it; but one line in particular caught his eye:
Bank No.: 478340MCMXCIX
Owner: Samantha Lisa Burton (United States of America)
Opening Balance: CHF 9,000,000
Current Balance: CHF 19,000,000
So it is Lisa... He brushed away the thought and signed on the dotted line.
"Congratulations Mr Bartowski," the bank manager said with a smile, before they got up and he walked them out of his office. "I hope to see you again Miss Burton," he said, before turning to Chuck, "Mr Bartowski. Good luck with the wedding."
Chuck smiled and shook his hand, before linking an arm through Sarah's and turning to leave the headquarters. As they left, he leaned down to Sarah's ear and whispered, "he's here. He's just gone into the vaults."
Sarah immediately stiffened, quickly glancing over her shoulder and spotting a brown-haired man disappearing into the depths of the ancient bank. "We'll wait for him at the tram station," she said, pulling Chuck across the crowded Paradeplatz to sit down in the tram station that was located at its centre.
|CHUCK|
Sure enough, two minutes after they had sat down on the hard plastic bench, both Chuck and Sarah's phones pinged with a message from Beckman to say that the bank account had been accessed again. They presumed it also included a rant about 'what the hell they were doing' and that they should 'finish the damn' mission already', but they were too engrossed in selling their cover to bother actually checking their phones. Sarah moaned gently as Chuck moved his kiss down along her neck, continuing to tangle his hands in her hair. It was the perfect arrangement. She was getting some last-minute European necking in with her fiancé (onlookers be damned), and she had an open view of the Credit Suisse front door for when the guy they were after—a Mr Johnson according to the database—appeared. Which was just about now.
"Chuck," she said breathlessly.
"Hm," he replied, pausing for a moment to look at her.
"He's here."
In an instant Chuck untangled himself from her embrace, and swivelled slightly on the bench so that they were now sitting next to each other, both facing the headquarters. "I see him."
Sarah didn't reply, instead she stood up, pressed a finger to her lips and hooked her arms through Chuck's. She trained her eyes on him, ignoring everyone else. As far as Sarah was concerned, there was no one else in Paradeplatz right now. Johnson turned to the right, leaving the square on the opposite side to which Chuck and Sarah had arrived. As she tilted her head to lean on Chuck's shoulder she noted the way Johnson was hunched over, pulling his long grey overcoat high up on his shoulders and burrowing his neck into the upturned collar. "Whatcha got Chuck?" she whispered like a ventriloquist, not moving her lips at all.
"No one suspicious. Looks like he's on his own."
"Follow him until we get to an isolated spot," she murmured in reply, before returning to her previous position on his shoulder. They followed Johnson out of Paradeplatz as he turned left onto Bahnhofstrasse. Sarah tensed for a moment when she couldn't spot him once they had rounded the corner, but relaxed when he appeared from under the shadow of one of the many trees that bordered Switzerland's most exclusive street. Then, suddenly, he bolted.
He had glanced over his shoulder, and momentarily glanced at Sarah, before he turned and ran with the speed of a raging bull, down the road. Sarah picked up her head from Chuck's shoulder and ran after him, tearing past the exclusive shops that were abundant on the road as he feet pounded on the hard asphalt road. Her hair whipped around her face as she narrowed her eyes to protect them from the air that was rushing into her face and saw him cross the road, shoving a man out of the way and send his shopping crashing to the floor.
"Stop!" she yelled, galloping over the clothes that were now strewn over the road, wincing slightly at the impact of her legs on the ground when she landed on the ground. Up ahead, she spotted him again. He was getting closer to her. She was gaining on him. With renewed energy, she took a breath and continued the chase, watching as he attempted to throw her off by feinting one way and then the other. He was getting desperate. He didn't she was still a good ten metres behind him. "Mr Johnson!" she called again to no avail. He picked up the pace again, before suddenly careering across the road again, leaping over the bonnet of a car the came to a screeching halt as he slammed his hands down onto it.
This time, he didn't straighten out his course; instead he ran straight into a private side road which curved back on itself, into a small enclosed alcove. She had him cornered. He also seemed to realise this. Not that it stopped him from continuing. Sarah felt her legs begin to burn as she adjusted to the different ground on the private road, with a quick glance behind her she noted that no one on Bahnhofstrasse could see them anymore, though she was sure that the Police had been called. She brushed the hair out of her eyes again, and reached into her under-arm holster to pull out the ceramic knife she kept there. "Mr Johnson! You're cornered. There's no way out," she said again, as she ran to a halt in front of him. Behind him was a large semi-circular lobe attached to whatever building the courtyard they were standing in belonged to, and to his right was the northern arm of the same building. Behind her, the building bend around to form a 'U' shape, and to her right she saw Chuck coming round the corner, red-faced and panting. "There's no way out Mr Johnson," she repeated, raising her knife.
"Who are you?" he spat, walking slowly backwards.
Sarah glanced up at the wall behind him, categorizing all the windows in the building. There were none that were low enough for him to be able to be pulled up, and she couldn't see anyone peeking out from them. They were alone. "CIA. Turn yourself in, and we can settle this now. No one gets hurt."
He smirked. Sarah hated smirkers. "I beg to differ."
Sarah glanced down to see he reached for his hip. She barely heard Chuck yell "look out", but felt her knife leave her hand, flying through the air with precision that had been developed over years of practice, and landing squarely in his thigh. Johnson screamed, and the gun he was reaching for clattered to the ground as he grabbed his thigh with his hand.
"Who do you work for?" Sarah asked, calmly watching as the man began to bleed out. "If you tell us we'll get help."
"I suggest you speak to Mr Winterbottom," Johnson looked up and sneered through his ragged breaths.
"You're under arrest Mr Johnson."
"I think not," he said, biting down hard on his tooth.
There was a crunch as something cracked, and Chuck watched in horror as his pupils dilated to fill almost his entire iris and his skin flushed a deep shade of red. Not seconds later he was lying on the floor, his tongue lolling out as a small dribble of saliva dribbled out from the side of his mouth.
"Cyanide," Sarah said, leaning down to sniff his breath. "Damn' it!" she groaned, wheeling around and yanking her knife out of his thigh, "I hate it when they do that."
"Are you sure you want to pick that up?"
Sarah glared at him for a moment before her shoulder slumped and half heartedly threw the knife back into his thigh, where is slotted exactly into the wound it had created before.
"What do we do now?" Chuck asked. "The police will probably on their way."
"Hotel," she said tersely, "we need to get out here."
"Wait, hang on a second Sarah."
"What?"
"He knew we had Hartley."
"Yes," said Sarah with a frown, "he was raiding Volkoff's bank account."
"No, he knew we had Hartley."
"So—oh."
"Yeah."
"He knew that Volkoff was Hartley," Sarah said, finally voicing the thought.
"Which means that that was no accident. Someone meant for the Intersect timeout to fail."
"We need to get back to Washington. Now."
~"It all depends on how we look at things, and not how they are in themselves." ―Carl Jung~
Next time on Best Laid Plans:
"New Zealand?"
"Yep," Beckman replied.
"Why New Zealand? All they have there are sheeps..."