Thelaststraw1a
Las Vegas Airport
Horizon Lounge
Karen Fisher was worried. She hadn't been able to find Chuck and Sarah was sitting at the bar getting quietly tanked and Casey was making noises about calling Beckman and getting a team tasked from NSA Las Vegas to find their missing asset. It had been two hours since she'd put Chuck in the cab. He wasn't even responding to his airport pages. She'd been calling his cell phone every 10 or 15 minutes and it went to voice mail every damned time.
Sarah stood up and turned to Karen and Casey sitting at one of those little café tables. She was drunk but not noticeably so. Agent training.
"I want to get married. Tonight. We'll fly to Reno and then all this crap about shitting on my man will be put to rest. I've made my mind up and I'm not going to change it so, damn it, where's my boyfriend, Karen? You put him in a cab alone, without protection in LAS VEGAS? Don't you fucking watch TV? This is Crimetown USA. You think they picked Vegas for CSI because of the lighting? No. Because there's murders and kidnappings and all kinds of shit and my baby is out there alone in Sin City, without me by his side, on his lap, in his pants, whatever."
OK, so maybe it was noticeable. But at least she wasn't shouting.
Casey looked at Karen who just grinned. Another bullet dodged. Now if they could just find the missing boyfriend before Walker passed out, they could fly to Reno, have the wedding, spend a few days on the Strip and then go to L.A. In Vino, Veritas – In Wine, Truth. She'd made up her mind and made the right choice in Karen's mind.
Sarah took out her cell phone and speed dialed Chuck. The message she left was classic hammered Walker.
"Chuck, I just wanted to let you know that we're flying, yes, we're all flying, all being me and you and Shorts and Major Pain-in-the-Ass, yes, we're flying to Reno for a wedding. I'm getting married. And if you're not there, I'll marry the dwarf guy from Fantasy Island who lives in Reno. He's even shorter than your short-time girlfriend, Karen. Or I'll marry Casey. Which ever is worse. Please, sweetie, I want to marry you, not Tattoo or Major PITA. I will not spread my legs for anyone but you. We're at the Horizon Room, baby, and I need you. Please, Chuck?"
Karen looked at Casey, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Just how close a partnership did you and Walker have, Major Casey?"
"Karen, she's drunk, 3 sheets to the wind, hammered, snockered. Besides, she's CIA, or was, and I do have my standards."
Downtown Las Vegas
Chuck had the cab driver pull over in front of yet another pawnshop and wait for him. He went in and spied exactly what he needed, paid $400 for it, and had it wrapped in brown paper. Getting back in the cab, he told the driver to find him a florist shop.
Luxor Hotel
Las Vegas
His last stop was the Luxor. He'd seen enough to know that Barry Jansen was both the recruiter for Fulcrum and an obstacle. He went to the desk and told the clerk that he had an appointment with Mr. Jansen and had been waiting over an hour for him in the bar and would they please give him the room number so he could call and confirm the appointment? He'd flown all the way from L.A. for the interview.
He saw the clerk dial the room extension, 8211, and he told her to never mind since he saw Mr. Jansen just entering the elevator. He got the next elevator car and called Casey. He wanted John to know and understand.
"Casey secure. Where the fuck are you, Bartowski?"
"I have something to do, John. I was sitting near the three of you and I heard it all. Thanks for sticking up for me, Casey. And thanks for everything else I never thanked you for. I figure there are a few thousand things you've done to cover my ass that I never knew about, so thanks, John."
"Chuck, where are you? We're waiting here to fly to Reno for your wedding, moron. Sarah announced to the whole bar she was getting married today to someone. Listen to your voicemail, idiot, and get your ass in a cab."
Wedding in Reno, then a year or two at the most, a quickie divorce in Reno when she realized how bored she was, how empty her life had become, how dreary and mundane. She was an operative. An agent. A field agent. She'd never settle down, do the wife/mother thing. It wasn't in her blood. His wild and untamed Sarah Walker could never be…domesticated.
Karen was tracking his GPS and looked at the app overlay. Oh, shit. She mouthed 'Luxor Hotel' to Casey.
"Chuck, don't do it. She's picked you. You're her job."
"Marry Karen, John. The Mustang's your wedding present. Just remember 1-3-3-1 or you'll die. See you on the other side." He hung up, satisfied that all his debts were paid. All but one.
He got off the 8th floor and started checking room numbers. When he got to 8211, he removed his pawnshop purchase from the flower box and knocked on the door.
He heard voices suddenly stop speaking and someone came to the door and asked who it was without opening the door.
"Concierge. I have a package for Mr. Barry Jansen. It requires a signature, sir. I can't leave it against the door, sir."
A man opened the door and Chuck flashed on a CIA agent who had been report 'missing presumed dead' in Turkey three months ago. The other man in the room was Jansen.
"Gimme the package. I'll sign for it."
"I need to see some ID, sir. It's a restricted delivery and I have to follow hotel policy."
"For flowers? You're kidding?" He turned to say something to Jansen but Chuck pushed him into the room and down on the floor. He threw the empty flower box on the floor and stepped into the room and closed the door. His Beast was loose.
Jansen had a drink in one hand and a cigar in the other. His silencer-equipped pistol was on the table and there was no way he could reach for it without telegraphing his move. Apparently if you messed up the interview he killed you. Chuck thought that was funny and laughed.
Jansen's eyes bugged out when he saw Chuck's purchase and heard his laugh. "Who the fuck are you? CIA? NSA?" His eyes were bugging out of his head in fear. He saved Chuck's life by looking down at the man on the floor.
Chuck whirled and sliced just as the silenced pistol discharged and then fell to the floor clutched in an armless hand. Another stroke and he turned back to Jansen who'd picked up his own pistol and fired. He grunted with the impact and then rushed at the terrified traitor who raised his pistol to fire again and lost his head for his trouble.
Now there would be no dinner date, no intel gathering, no legs spreading.
He wiped the blade of his pawned and battered old katana on the bedspread and then put the sword back in the box and under the bed. Chuck went into the bathroom, took a clean washcloth and folded it and stuffed it under his suit coat to sop up the blood flow. He didn't want to draw attention to himself before he was out of the hotel. He left the room. He didn't care what the security cameras revealed. He figured the NSA would have a cleaner team here within minutes of his call.
"Casey, secure. Are you on the way?"
"No. Yes. I - I need a cleaner team at the Luxor, room 8211. Two bodies, documents, weapons and…stuff. Tell them to look under the bed. The Mustang's still yours, Casey." He disconnected and took the elevator down to the lobby and listened to his voicemails on the way to pass the time and take his mind off the burning in his shoulder and arm. He blew through Karen's but stopped and listened intently to Sarah's. He laughed until the pain got too bad to laugh so he just smiled and wondered how many drinks she'd had to get that hammered. He leaned against the elevator wall and chuckled listening to her voicemail again.
The elevator stopped in the lobby and the doors opened up and Chuck found himself face-to-face with Karen Fisher. She stepped into the car and pushed Chuck hard against the back of the elevator and then pushed the button for the 2nd floor.
She pulled the emergency stop button and then laid into Chuck. After zoning out from pain and catching about every fifth word of what was sure to have been a classic ass-chewing he held up his hand and fumbled with his cell phone. "Wait, I got to make a call." She stared at him in disbelief.
He hit speed dial #1. And put it on speaker because he wasn't sure how long he could hold the suddenly very heavy cell phone.
"Chuck, where are you? You're supposed to be at the airport! What part of 'Go to the airport, Chuck!' did you not understand? Karen gave you instructions and you hared off again without me or any protection. I'm going to kill you after we're married. At least then I'll get your damned insurance."
"I won't marry you tonight, and certainly not in Reno. People go there for quickie divorces. Nope. And I won't marry someone who's drunk. Tomorrow, when you've sobered up, then we'll talk. Now, you and Casey check us four into the hotel and then…" He was suddenly tired. It hit him all at once. He hung up on Sarah, his eyes unfocused for a moment.
"Karen, no hospital. No way. Just have NSA send a doctor over with some 5-0 silk and some band aids. No hospital, Karen, please. Man, I am so tired."
He slid down the wall and was sitting down looking up at her. "We made a nice couple, Shorts. Another time, another place, who knows? I really did lov…" He sighed and passed out. He was such a wuss.
She pulled out the emergency stop button and then pushed the lobby button. She had no idea how they were going to clean up this mess. Beckman was going to have a cow.
Quik-Care Medical Services
Las Vegas, NV
John Casey was pacing the corridor outside the treatment room at an out-of-the-way medical care facility that had an approved NSA physician. He'd just had a painful conversation with General Beckman regarding the future of Team Intersect and its staff. The most memorable were 'incompetent', 'South Pole' and the always chilling 'transfer to the CIA'. As soon as he was sure Bartowski was going to live, he was going to kill him.
Karen sat with a sniffling and still slightly drunk Sarah Walker in the small waiting area drinking strong black coffee. Karen was going over the comment Chuck made in the elevator. It had hit her very hard. It sounded like something that would be said in one of Ellie's chick flicks. A nice couple. Another time and place. Yeah, but it wasn't another time. It was now. But she did have Johnny. She didn't want to think about how he'd have finished his sentence.
She'd checked them into two rooms at the Luxor. Each had a Jacuzzi. She figured it was the least they could do since Beckman was probably going to send the four of them to different corners of the earth and Chuck's would be underground. God, what a mess.
The doctor was 'tsk-tsking' over Chuck's obvious fear of needles as he threaded another stitch through the tissue surrounding the furrow that a 9mm had carved in his shoulder cap. "Agent, just another three or four and we'll be done and then you can be on about your business of spreading fear and mayhem among the hearts of decent gamblers in our fair city." He'd seen a news flash about an apparent gangland killing at the Luxor. Sword-wielding Yakuza from Japan were apparently settling old scores.
His cell chirped and he glanced at the doctor who nodded and he took the call.
"Bartowski, secure. Ouch, damn it, don't you people sharpen your needles?"
"I told him to use blunt ones, Mr. Bartowski, thick, blunt needles. What do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Bartowski? Your Team obviously is a complete clusterfuck and you… you… Words fail me."
"General, it had to be done. Besides, it forced Agent Walker to choose. Either way the greater good was served and that's the whole purpose of this, wasn't it? Keeping the unknowing from knowing? Surely this can be overlooked, General? Perhaps a wedding present?"
"What?! Wedding. Oh, no. Oh, no. Not you and Walker? TWO Bartowskis? Well, I suppose this one time, this one last final time, but never again. The next time I'll throw your butt in the deepest, darkest…"
"Thanks, Diane. We'll send you pictures. Bartowski and her Dog. That's what you wanted, wasn't it? A new Dog? Well, now you have two for the price of one. Plus one is – computerized." He laughed as he imagined the look on Beckman's face. Sometimes the Spymaster was so obvious and transparent. The missions for Team Intersect were about to change.
"You're welcome. Just don't use a sword next time. It makes clean up difficult." He could hear the smile in her voice.
"Hey, I didn't have a pistol and I had no way around the 3-day waiting period. It wasn't my first option. And anyways, you got two bad guys off the books and enough intel to keep your personnel weenies busy so it was a win-win situation. I really have to go, General, I think I'm…"
"Hello, General Beckman, ma'am, your agent has fainted. No ma'am, fainted, not passed out. I think the needles finally got to him."
A/N: The tripe ride is almost over. Only one chapter left I think. Trying to break them at 2200 or so but not always possible for continuity. Normally I just write one massive missive and then go back and separate. Saves me editing. Read carefully.
