A/N: Some relative calm after the storm.


(She Was A) Hotel Detective

Chapter Twenty-One: Period, Refractory


Tuesday, November 9, 1965
The Palmer House Hotel, Chicago
The Wee Hours


The three questioners all stared at Sarah.

For a second, she felt like the little girl she had been, years ago, conning with her father, always all secrets and lies. Her first response was to fold into herself, say nothing. Her father had encouraged her not to talk, to treat sharing as a weakness.

He certainly rarely talked to her, except to teach her to con, to critique her efforts. He rarely allowed and almost never asked for her to tell him anything, particularly not anything about how she felt.

He wanted, he needed, for her to be inexpressive. He was uncomfortable with her feelings, uncomfortable even acknowledging that she had them — she now knew this was his way of coping with the guilt he felt about what he was doing to her, the guilt he kept hidden behind his own inexpressiveness, and that he actively denied in his overt speech, in his other actions.

The Farm, Joad, had schooled her further; she became an artist of inexpression.

But she felt Chuck's arms go around her, tighten around her, and she saw more than shock in the faces of Ellie and Devon. They were concerned for her, not a mission. For her. For Sarah. She made herself face them, the telling of her story.

"So, let me start at my apartment, mine and Carina's...Someone had broken in this morning, so I went back with her to check on the place, and," she turned her head just enough to glance at Chuck, "so I could get some sleep. Obviously, that didn't work out…"

Devon broke in. "Carina! Did something happen to her?"

Sarah noticed Ellie react to Devon's reaction, Ellie's reaction unnoticed by Ellie herself.

Sarah answered: "No, as far as I know, she's safe. I 'm sure, really, she's safe. At least for now. Maybe you could call her when your shift ends, Devon, check on her?" Sarah added the question with a tinge of guilt.

Devon nodded. Then she saw a circumspect shift in his features, a new awareness of his nodding. He snuck a glance at Ellie, who was still looking at him, pondering. "I will," Devon said, his tone more dutiful, less personal. "I'll call."

"Thanks, Devon, for doing that for me." Sarah steadied herself. "So, the apartment was fine but I had a...worry...while I was there that the Outfit had someone inside the hotel, hunting for Chuck."

"Who?" Chuck asked just before Devon could.

"Louisa. I'm not sure, but I worry that she's being paid to hunt for you. Her financial situation is bad — you must know that, Devon," he nodded, "and, anyway, I worry about her...what she's up to..."

"I was doing corridor sweeps," Devon added, "and I saw her on the fifth floor and then again on the sixth…"

Ellie's eyes narrowed. "Louisa's mounted the ladder, I guess, rung by rung."

"So," Sarah said, resuming her story after a moment of silence, "I told Carina to prop a chair against the apartment door and I left to come back here, but…" Sarah felt reluctance, not just to tell them about Algernon but to have to acknowledge what Algernon had, presumably, done to Chuck.

Chuck leaned down and kissed the side of her head. "It's okay, Sarah."

"No, it's not, Chuck."

"Devon," Sarah said, "I've told Chuck and Ellie something, but not you. Before I came to Chicago, I worked out of Washington, out of Langley…"

Devon's eyes clouded. "Langley — like, Langley, Virginia?"

"Yes."

His eyes cleared and widened. "Camp Peary. You were a spy." As when Sarah had told Ellie, Devon's reaction was not a question. "That makes...so much sense."

Sarah was unsure whether that was intended as a compliment or not. She continued. "Yes, I was a CIA agent. For a long time. But I quit. Anyway, I needed you to know that or the rest of this won't...make sense."

Ellie had shifted her attention to Sarah, Ellie's eyes growing anxious. Sarah heard Chuck's intake of breath, felt it against her. She reached across and took his hand.

"As I left the apartment, I was...taken...forced into a car by a man with a gun in my back."

The room went completely silent. "So, I was ordered into the car. Two other men were in it, in the front seat. I had no choice. I got in."

"Sarah…" Fear was in Chuck's voice.

"I'm here, Chuck, it...works out...sort of. — I got into the car and the man who had ordered me inside got in behind me. He was Jeff Barnes."

Chuck and Ellie did not react; neither knew Barnes or knew of him. But Devon's jaw dropped like a cartoon character's. "Jeff Barnes? Otis Campbell?"

Chuck reacted to that. "Otis Campell? Like on Andy Griffith? I love that show. Barney…?"

Sarah went on. "Yes, Devon, our ne'er-do-well hotel jewel thief..." She let that sink in for Chuck and Ellie, "...is actually the KGB's fabled deep-cover operative, codename Algernon."

Ellie's eyes flashed. "Like the altered mouse, the one with surgically-enhanced intelligence? From the story? Charlie Gordon?"

Sarah shrugged. "I haven't read that book. I thought maybe it was because of the poet, Swinburne."

Devon shook his head dramatically. "Wait, stop. Stop. I need to process this. Jeff Barnes is a top Soviet spy?"

"Yes, Devon. I know — it floored me too. But, remember the night he tranqed Andy?"

Chuck shook his head. "Andy Griffith?"

"No, Chuck, bellboy Andy, the cherubic redheaded kid. Freckles?"

"Oh, yeah, I've seen him on the elevator," Ellie volunteered.

"Opie?" Chuck was still struggling.

"Sort of looks like him, Chuck," Ellie said, her tone part parent, part sibling. "If you stretched Opie and inflated him a bit…"

"We're getting off-topic," Sarah said, stopping the discussion. Her weariness was a weight on her. She needed to finish telling the story, a story she dreaded telling.

Ellie turned from Chuck to Sarah. "Sorry, Sarah."

"So, yes, Jeff Barnes is Algernon. He introduced the two men with him as Nemur and Strauss."

"The doctors from the book. The ones who operated on Charlie." Ellie put her hand on her mouth. "Sorry to interrupt, but that story — my Dad, our Dad," Ellie looked at Chuck, "he gave me that story to read. We talked about it a lot. It made an impression on me. It's a big reason I was going to go into medicine, neurology. I didn't like Nemur and — Go on. Sorry."

"Well, Algernon revealed who he was to me and…"

Chuck let go of Sarah's hand and whispered. "Sarah, you said the room was bugged, so...Isn't Algernon hearing all this?"

"Probably — someone almost certainly is. The room has been bugged for a while, since before I brought you here, Chuck."

Chuck nodded. Then his eyes saucered. "But that means that...they heard...us."

Sarah nodded, looking only at Chuck and not Ellie or Devon. "Yes, it does. I hate that too, Chuck."

He stared off into the distance for a moment. "I'm glad we were quiet."

Sarah nodded. She kissed his red cheek, the heat of his blush still on it.

"Algernon told me that Maria Tomek came to the Palmer House intending to meet him, to give him some records, books, that she and her boyfriend kept. Algernon was going to pay her for the records and help her defect."

Devon shook his head. "Defect? To the Soviet Union. I thought that was a one-way street, running West. Who in their right mind would…" Devon looked around the room. Sarah could see him thinking about the KGB bugs. "Right. Two-way street."

"Maria was murdered — I'll get to that in a minute — before she could meet with Algernon. But Algernon wants the records. He had...heard of me, it turns out, as I had heard of him."

"You?" Ellie asked, a flare of suspicion suddenly in her eyes.

"I...had a certain...reputation as a spy myself," Sarah spoke the words reluctantly, knowing them to be a prelude for what was coming, all of it. "He wanted me to find the records for him."

Chuck huffed. "Why would you do that?"

Sarah looked at Chuck, her voice catching, her eyes moistening. "Because he did something to you, Chuck."

Chuck stiffened. "To me? What? Huh? — I admit, I felt weird when I woke up a while ago, all groggy and cottony, but…"

"Sarah..." Ellie said, her expression completely sober, dead serious, her tone flat, a knife's edge. "What did Algernon do to Chuck?"

Sarah grabbed Chuck's hand again. "He claims he poisoned Chuck."

Sarah felt Chuck jerk. Ellie looked at Devon, Devon at Ellie, then both turned to Sarah. Ellie stood up and spoke to the air. "You son-of-a-bitch, Algernon!"

Devon stood and put his hand on Ellie's shoulder. She looked at him and then sat back down. Chuck remained motionless, expressionless.

"Should we be talking about this where Algernon can hear?" Devon said after Ellie seated herself. He was still standing. After no one answered, he sat down.

"Poison?" Chuck muttered.

"Algernon tranqed Chuck last night — that much is true, I found the tranq dart in Chuck's abdomen when I came back to the hotel after meeting with Algernon. That's why Chuck felt strange when he woke up.

"Algernon claims that the person who tranqed Chuck also dosed him with an experimental KGB poison, one that is virtually undetectable and slow-acting. There's supposed to be an antidote, and Algernon claims to have it.

"He will trade it for Tomek's records. He says that the poison doesn't produce symptoms...until near the end."

"When is that?" Chuck, again, his voice strangled.

"Sixty hours from 10 pm last night, so...10 am Thursday morning."

Ellie was very, very pale. She waved her hands. "But there's no way that Algernon could be that exact. We can't take the chance that he's off by a few hours. We have to build in a margin…"

"Assuming Algernon isn't lying," Sarah added.

Ellie dropped her hands, whimpered softly, shaking her head.

"Lying?" Chuck asked. He seemed to have gathered himself. He squeezed Sarah's hand.

"We don't have any proof he dosed you. I couldn't find an injection site."

"But perhaps the dose was administered orally," Devon noted.

Sarah turned to Ellie, who was staring at her. "Is such a poison possible, Ellie? What do you think?"

Ellie shifted, gave Devon a look. "I'm not a doctor. Who knows what's possible? It sounds hard to believe — but what do you think, Sarah, you're a part of that world, you have a better sense than I do of what makes sense in it."

Sarah felt a jolt at Ellie's words. A part of that world. "I...I don't know either, but I do know that the CIA has for years been involved in extensive drug experimentation. And the CIA and the KGB are like photonegative versions of each other. That the KGB has been trying to develop such a drug is perfectly plausible. That they have succeeded is less so. I don't know. I…"

Sarah's throat closed on her. The lack of sleep, the exertion, the things she had done: it all pressed down on her. But the primary weight was Chuck — her fear for him. She broke, broke down. "I'm terrified it's true…" she sobbed.

Chuck pulled her to him. "It's okay, Sarah. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I just found you and I don't plan to lose you or let you lose me."

She looked into his eyes and saw bravery. He had pulled himself together. His eyes were clear, completely focused on her, no deflection of self-concern.

"Tell us the rest, Sarah."

She nodded her head and wiped her eyes. "So...Algernon told me about the poison and what he wanted me to do. Find the records, trade them for the antidote. He let me out of the car near here; I came to the room, checked on Chuck and...I went after the records."

"How?" Ellie looked surprised.

"I went after Bryce Larkin." And now he's dead. "I went to his apartment and I...got him to tell me that he was working with the Outfit, that he thought Joey Lombardo, Joey The Clown, had killed Maria. That he was part of the attempt to set Chuck up.

"I made him come with me when I left, for fear that he would call Lombardo, alert him that I was coming. I put him in the trunk of his car and went after Lombardo."

Ellie had been hanging on each word. Now her face showed shock. "In this weather, you put him in the trunk." An observation. "You got him to tell you? You made him come with you?" The last two remarks were questions. Ellie leaned forward. "Just what kind of reputation did you have — in the CIA?"

"I was a...very good agent. Efficient. Obedient. Well-trained."

She felt Chuck twist beside her, change his angle of vision on her.

"What does 'efficient' mean for a spy, Sarah?" Ellie's eyes were narrow as she asked.

Chuck took his arm from around Sarah and rubbed her back.

"Tell us the rest, Sarah."

Sarah did not meet Ellie's gaze. "I had to hurry. I drove to the address of Lombardo's house and Lombardo was just leaving. I trailed him back into the city. He was meeting with Shaw, the police detective – a dirty cop — on the Tomek case. Lombardo had a gun," — Sarah gave Chuck a significant glance — "wrapped up, and he was giving it to Shaw. I...I crashed their meeting."

"Crashed?" It was Devon's turn to ask.

Sarah then narrated the events in the parking lot. She kept it brief but did not try to soften it in her own favor. She told it all, including the knife twists in Lombardo, finding Larkin dead in the trunk, leaving Lombardo and Shaw bleeding in the snow. She told them about making the emergency call and walking to the hotel.

The only thing she did not tell them was what Lombardo actually said when she twisted the knife. She told them that Lombardo said Tomek had no answer to Lombardo's question about the records. She added, falsely, that Lombardo said he did not think that Tomek actually knew where Manny Sklar hid them.

Sarah was not going to give Algernon all and only the actual information she had.

Sarah realized that Chuck had stopped rubbing her back. Devon was staring at her, unaware of his unhinged jaw. Ellie's pallor was almost complete, her dark hair and dark eyes standing out from her bloodless skin. Sarah turned slowly to face Chuck.

His head was turned and he was staring off into the distance. His hand still held hers but as if he had forgotten that was true.

Welcome back into the shadows.

Devon finally closed his mouth. It took an obvious effort. "Jackie Frost," he breathed out, "shit. That's some scary shit."

Ellie had shifted her eyes to the carpet, studying the pattern in it, apparently. She stood and went into the bathroom and shut the door. Devon was rubbing his bad knee, taking his turn at studying the carpet.

"Chuck?" Sarah asked quietly, not sure what question she was asking but desperate for him to look at her again.

He did not answer. She reversed her hand and his so that she was holding his hand. She squeezed it. "Chuck, you saw what I did at Moe's. You know I...was CIA. Chuck?" Please, Chuck, see me, not the Ice Queen.

He turned to her. The brown of his eyes had darkened, and something deep filled his gaze for a moment, deep, and difficult to read.

He twisted to increase the distance between them and Sarah felt her chest tighten; her breath would not come.

She felt her dead past stir, its shadowy hands thrust forward to claim her living present.

And then Chuck's hands, warm, tender, carefully examined the bloody tear in her blouse, the wound beneath it.

"The Clown. He almost killed you. Killed you. Sarah, we've only known each other for a few days, and I don't want to scare you away, but I...I care about you."

You love me, you're almost sure. He did not take it back, not that he remembered saying it. The constriction of her chest vanished; she took a full breath.

"Chuck, given the night...I've had, do you really believe that telling me...you care about me...is going to scare me away? I thought what I just told you, everyone, would scare you away. That you would not look at me the same way that you have been — since we met." She dropped her head.

I am in the shadows for you, Chuck, to save you. My present. I didn't kill Lombardo or Shaw because of you, Chuck. I do not want to stay in the shadows.

He put a finger beneath her chin and gently tilted her face up until he was looking into her eyes.

He swallowed before he spoke, his words as soft and deliberate as his hands on her wounded shoulder. "Sarah, the night you've had...the life you've lived...I won't pretend that I get it, not...you know...from the inside...the way you do, but I get you, I think. I think I get you."

He paused and leaned close to her, his lips near her ear, his voice for her and only her. "I believe in your heart, Sarah Walker; I do." He kissed her softly.

There was a soft sob — Devon. Blinking, Devon stood up, then turned away from Sarah and Chuck.

Sarah wrapped her arms around Chuck, ignoring the burning of her shoulder, and she kissed him hard. She was too exhausted for the kiss to last long, and when her lips parted from Chuck, Ellie was standing by the bed.

Ellie's color had returned, with a vengeance — she was bright red, her eyes burning. She pointed a finger at Sarah and kept pointing it, stabbing.

"So, Sarah, my brother has been poisoned, probably...maybe...probably, and there are dead or wounded men all over, staining the streets of Chicago, and my brother doesn't seem to be particularly concerned about it, any of it, that he's dying, or that we have no leads, no clues, and that his new girlfriend caused the dead or wounded men, and got wounded herself, and that she's a former American spy who ends up in cars with Russian spies code-named after surgically-enhanced mice or English poets, and...and…and…" Like a spinning top at the end of its kinetic energy, Ellie began to wobble.

Devon picked up Ellie's hanging conjunction. "And — 'Life is the lust of a lamp for the light that is dark till the dawn of the day that we die.'"

Devon smiled calmly as Ellie wheeled toward him.

She stared at him for a moment. "What the hell was that, Devon?" Ellie asked softly, her shoulders now sagging.

"Swinburne, the poet. I had to read him in a class. I memorized that line because it sort of stumped me. I don't get it." Devon gave Ellie then Sarah and Chuck a weak smile. "I liked the beginning and ending alliteration, though. I guess Swinburne was more interested in the sound than the sense."

Ellie walked to the armchair Devon had surrendered.

She sat down heavily, her hands moving, but in no discernable gesture, just an expression of exhausted exasperation.

"Chuck, aren't you afraid? I can't lose you, I can't lose anyone else…If you aren't afraid, well, I'm terrified enough for both of us. Think about it, Chuck, Thursday morning will be the dawn of the day you die, unless we find those records…"

Sarah got up and picked up the pad of hotel stationery and a pen. "I know you're upset, Ellie. I am too. And of course, Chuck is scared. We'll just have to do our best."

As she spoke, she wrote in large letters: The Clown gave me a clue. She made sure Ellie, Devon, and Chuck saw it. Each nodded in turn.

Ellie mouthed the words, Thank God. Her color was closer to normal, no longer pale, no longer burning.

Sarah continued talking. "We'll get started first thing in the morning, trying to figure this out. I've got to get some sleep."

"Okay, but first thing tomorrow…" Ellie echoed, her eyes no longer burning but anger and mistrust were still in them. "Devon, would you please help me get back to my room unseen?"

"Sure, Ellie. — Sarah, I will stay after my shift ends. I'll check on Carina and I'll be here to do whatever you need me to do. I can miss my classes tomorrow. I don't have any on Wednesday. After Ellie's settled, I'll check on Louisa's progress up the ladder."

Sarah nodded her thanks. Devon picked up Ellie's ice bucket and went to the door, Ellie behind him. He checked the hall, then opened the door slowly. Ellie's head was down.

Holding the door open narrowly with his foot, Devon extended his hand. After a moment, Ellie noticed it. She took it and they left.


When the door closed, Chuck got up off the bed and stood beside Sarah. "I'm sorry about Ellie. She's just afraid."

"I am too. Aren't you, Chuck?"

"Yes, kinda...yes, sure, but I didn't want Ellie to see it, and...I have you on my side. And you have to rest. And I'm going to keep imagining that this ends well." His voice became a lecturer's. "Like Maxwell Maltz says, 'Imagination — The First Key to Your Success Mechanism.'"

Sarah gave him a look — as much of one as she could muster. "Psycho-Cybernetics? Not tonight, but soon, you need to explain to me why you were reading that book."

Chuck's face shifted a bit. "Okay...but not tonight. You're dead on your feet. Come to bed, and let me hold you."

Chuck unbuttoned his shirt, took off his pants. Sarah stripped down to her underwear.

They got in bed together.

Sarah pressed herself against the length of Chuck, craving as much skin-to-skin contact as she could get. As her eyes closed, she kissed Chuck's cheek, sinking into his embrace.

Then she felt herself tremble — or maybe it was Chuck.

Sleep claimed her.


A/N: We are now poised for the final chapters of the second arc, This Fevered Spring.

I hope everyone is well and safe. Stay home. Call an old friend. Send some emails. Get out some old photos. Reread Thoreau's Walden, the classic of social-distancing.

Thoughts? I would love to hear from you!