A/N: More Hotel Detective.
(She Was A) Hotel Detective
Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Ghosts Were Only Dropping
Wednesday, November 10, 1965
Above Drab Olive Drab Surplus, Chicago
Mid-afternoon
Devon left for the office supply store.
He gave Ellie a quick, self-conscious kiss goodbye, a kiss she returned with equal self-consciousness.
Watching, Carina tried to smother her rueful expression beneath a smile.
Chuck sat down on the couch, pensive and pale. He kept rubbing his palms along his pants.
Marlena had gotten up after Sarah stood and found a wire-bound notebook and pen. She took them to Chuck and he took them, nodding his thanks. He opened the notebook and started scribbling.
Ellie walked to Sarah and took the glass of water out of Sarah's hand.
Sarah realized she had just been standing there like statuary as all this happened around her.
Ellie put the glass on the table. "Sarah, I'm sorry. I didn't think, I just handed Jack the records…"
Sarah forced herself out of her pain and panic, forcing herself to attend to Ellie.
"Don't, Ellie," Sarah said, "It's what he does: he gets you to trust him and then…"
"Yeah," Ellie replied softly, "but we'll figure this out. We're a good team. You're the best. Just tell us what to do."
"Get Chuck to take some more Succimer and drink. Give him my water. I need a minute or two, just to focus."
Ellie nodded and Sarah went into the bathroom. She leaned on the sink and looked at herself in the mirror. Goddamn it, Dad. How could you? Sarah studied her face, studied it closely and for a long time.
Sarah could see her dad's features in her own. She was starting to plan for the day after tomorrow, for a future with Chuck. — But what kind of future could she offer him, given her past, the way she had been raised, lived?
The last few days had not only turned her to her future, but they had also returned her to her past — Algernon, and now her dad. The past few days had been spinning her around: present, past, future, present, past, future. It was like she was living her past, her present and her future all at the same time.
She and Chuck had not talked about what their future might hold beyond them. But could she really trust herself with Chuck's heart? — Chuck was not the problem; Sarah was.
No childhood to speak of, except in the biological or legal sense — she had been young once, but hardly a child, never been a child as other children were. She had graduated from that minority into a crude majority, from her half-life with her father, into a different half-life with Joad and the Company. The two half-lives did not make a whole, did not make her whole. Not close.
She was broken, her father's daughter. Her past would out, claim or darken her future.
What kind of future could she offer Chuck?
How could she know that when all this ended, if it ended with everyone okay, she would still feel like she now felt? She could not trust her father. Maybe she was conning herself? How could she trust herself? Maybe she only make-believed in a future with Chuck, maybe...
"Sarah?" A soft knock on the bathroom door. "Sarah?" It was Chuck. She opened the door and he came inside and, without speaking, enfolded her in his long arms. "It's okay."
"No, Chuck, it's not. My dad, my dad took the records…That's the man who raised me."
"Yeah, yeah, he did. But maybe he took the records for some good reason. And, anyway, I'm pretty sure I couldn't have given them to Algernon to save myself."
Sarah started to protest — but Chuck leaned down to kiss her, stopping her mouth.
For a moment, Sarah resisted the kiss, then she accepted it, then she returned it. It deepened; Chuck was her anchor. She felt herself stabilize, her self-doubt calm.
I love this man. I do not have to repeat my father's mistakes. Biology, training, neither is destiny. I believe in us, Chuck.
Chuck pulled away from the kiss after a moment. "Could you really give the records to Algernon, to the KGB? You, a former CIA agent?"
Sarah answered without hesitation. "If it meant keeping you alive, absolutely. If those were my choices."
Chuck looked at her, biting his bottom lip. "Well, giving up the records is not a choice now. The records are gone."
He breathed in, out. "I was able to reproduce that first page. I can fake another few pages in that style. I can see a very basic pattern in the code, although I haven't broken it. The pages will just be gibberish, fake code, since I don't understand it."
Sarah kissed him. "Just work on breaking it for now. When Devon gets back, we'll decide what to do. We have to hurry. I assume Dad is going to sell the records. His 'big score' at last.
"He won't sell them to the FBI, obviously, or to the KGB: he's a scoundrel but a patriot. He'll approach Accardo. But he knows it's dangerous, and he'll ask for a fortune, so he'll be canny about it. Still, the word that the records are out and for sale may get out and get out soon. This isn't Dad's kind of play; he's neither mobster nor spy. We can't have it getting back to Algernon."
Chuck's face looked pained. "Sarah, I need to go."
"Go?" Sarah felt her heart speed up.
"No, no. Not go, go...the Succimer…"
"Oh, I'll leave you to it." She stepped out and closed the door. The lock's click reminding her — tick, tick, tock.
Carina and Ellie and Marlena were seated at the small table. Ellie and Marlena were drinking tea from cups. Carina was drinking pearlescent liquid from a shot glass.
Sarah crossed to the couch and tore out a clean sheet of paper. She looked at Marlena and Marlena, nodding, went into the kitchen, returning with a pencil. Sarah took it and joined them at the table.
She reached for Carina's shot glass and sipped at it. It burned sweetly.
"Hey," Carina said in a mild protest.
"Țuică?" Sarah asked Marlena.
Marlena smiled. "You know it?"
"Drank it in Romania once."
Carina shook her head. "I constantly forget the strange life you've lived."
"I keep trying to forget it too, but it won't forget me.."
Carina started to smirk then saw the seriousness in Sarah's features. "It's okay, girl. We can figure this out."
Sarah did not respond. She took the paper and pencil and began to sketch the Palmer House and its surroundings.
Chuck came out of the bathroom and went back to the couch, started scribbling again.
She needed to get to 2022 with Chuck and the records, the fake records. That meant getting into the Palmer House unseen, and then to 2022 unseen.
Accardo, the Outfit, was looking for them. The FBI was looking for them. The KGB was waiting for them. The CIA, in the person of Lakoff, was lurking around, involved. The KGB, unbelievably, was not the first problem.
Sarah would deal with Algernon and his men when they brought the antidote in trade.
The problem was the Outfit and the FBI. Lakoff was a wild card.
Sarah could not get everyone into the hotel at once. But maybe she could use folks as lures, Devon's word, as decoys?
She could send Devon and Ellie somewhere near the Palmer House, Patel's, and have Devon call Rizzo from there, tell her he was with Ellie and Ellie needed to talk to Rizzo in person. That would get rid of Rizzo for a time.
Accardo had the manager of the Green Mill follow Carina home. Presumably, the Outfit was watching Carina in hope that she would lead them to Sarah. If Carina were to walk along in front of the Palmer House main entrance, visible in the way Carina was normally visible — at least to men — she would attract their attention. She could then duck into a nearby business, the department store a few doors down, someplace with people.
Coordinated, the phone call from Devon and Carina's open-air catwalk would give Sarah a chance to get into the hotel with Chuck.
Once inside, they could take the stairs to 2022 if necessary, or take them part of the way. When they were in the room, she could announce that she had the records to Algernon and wait for him to show himself — with the antidote.
Devon arrived. He had a bag from the office supply store in his hand. He immediately took them to Chuck. From her seat, Sarah could see that they were the same brand as the ones they found at St. Vincent's. Chuck took them, pulled the price tags off and thumbed through them, then he took on, set it on the coffee table beside the notebook he had been scribbling in, and started copying from the latter into the former. Tick, tick, tock.
Sarah saw Chuck grimace.
"Chuck, is your ulcer acting up?" Ellie asked. She had noticed the grimace too.
He looked up. "Maybe. I guess."
Ellie tried to hide her flash of concern. "I'll get you some bicarbonate of soda. Do you have some, Marlena?"
Marlena got up and went to the kitchen. Ellie went with her. A moment later they brought Chuck a small glass of water, swirling, a spoon tinkling in it. He stirred it and drank it down. Ellie gave him a stern look. "Tell me how you feel in ten minutes or so, okay?"
Chuck nodded. Sarah realized she was gripping the seat of her chair, one hand on both sides. The panic that had driven her into the bathroom was returning. Loosening her hands, she gave Chuck a soft glance and he smiled.
"Devon, Ellie, Carina, while Chuck works, let me tell you my plan. Chuck and I need to get to 2022 in the Palmer House. I need for you to lure the watchers away…"
Dusk approached, filled with blowing snow. The temperature, never climbing much during the day, had fallen as the sun sank. The wind was whipping off the Lake, making the cold colder. Sarah pushed a stray hair away from her face.
She and Chuck had taken a taxi to a parking garage not far from the entrance to the hotel Sarah used for work, the one that took them to the basement. She looked at her watch.
5:43 pm. She and Devon and Carina had synchronized watches.
At 5:40 pm, Devon was to call Rizzo. That should already have happened.
At 5:50 pm, Carina was to walk along the street. Marlena had given Carina a long, bright red wool scarf, to keep her warm but mainly to act as an added beacon, in case Carina's hair was not enough of one.
At 5:53 pm, Sarah and Chuck would make for the entrance. Each had on an old coat from Drap Olive Drab, each black, as well as a hat, Sarah's a boonie hat, her hair up, hidden inside it, Chuck's a black beret. He was holding Sarah close and she put her head close to him, breathed him in. It calmed her but she was far from calm. She could feel the fake records beneath his coat.
Chuck seemed to be feeling better but Sarah had seen two or three more grimaces, despite his attempts to hide them. She had no way of knowing whether it was his ulcer or Algernon's poison. She tried not to think about it.
It was not her most immediate problem. They needed to get inside, to 2022. She closed her eyes and fought for focus.
She checked her watch again. 5:50 pm. Cue Carina.
The main entrance was on another side of the hotel, so there was no way for Sarah to know if Carina's walk had the desired effect, she just had to hope it would.
Sarah forced herself to breathe. She looked at Chuck. "One minute, sweetie."
"Sweetie?"
Sarah gave him a quick, strained grin. "Just trying it out. Too much?"
"No, baby, just right."
She lifted an eyebrow. "Baby? Me?"
"To me," Chuck said, a tenderness in his voice that made Sarah weak all over. "Too much?"
"No, just right." She kissed him quickly.
She looked at her watch, took a breath, and grabbed Chuck's hand.
A blast of wind raged through the open door of the garage, and they both ducked involuntarily, snow blowing in their faces.
Running, they crossed the street to the side door and into the Palmer House.
They made it to the stairs without an encounter. They climbed to the fifth floor. On the fifth floor landing, Chuck stopped, bending over. Sarah heard him moan softly.
"Chuck?"
He stayed in the bent posture but waved his hand at her. "I'll be okay."
They climbed three more floors. Chuck stopped again, bent over again. The moan this time was louder, longer. Sarah felt her heart thumping, and not from the climb.
We'll take the elevator from here."
Chuck looked up, pain in his eyes. "Thanks, baby." Sarah kissed him then opened the stairwell door. The elevator was on the other end of the hallway but the hallway was empty.
"C'mon, sweetie." They walked quickly along the length of the hallway, each step making it seem longer. Sarah could hear them both breathing. Each footfall and breath seemed amplified by her nerves, her dread.
She punched the Up button. The elevator arrived, mercifully empty. They got on and punched the button for the twentieth floor.
On the eighteenth floor, the elevator stopped. Sarah slipped her hand in her coat. An elderly man got on. He smiled at them, his head bobbing, a tuft of white hair atop his head standing up, rooster-like. "Sorry, I'm just going three floors, but I can't climb like I used to." He got on and kept smiling. After a moment, he leaned toward Chuck. "She is a special one, I can tell. And not just because she's beautiful. Don't let her get away from you, young man."
The elevator stopped on the twentieth floor. Chuck gave the old man a smile. "Our floor. And I don't plan to, sir." Sarah checked. The hallway was empty. They got off, the old man waving at them as they did.
Sarah grabbed one of Chuck's hands with one of hers and fished her keys out of her coat pocket with the other. She half-pulled him to 2022. As they neared the door, they heard yells from 2024. They stopped.
"The Jameses? Fighting again?"
They listened for a moment more. Sarah tilted her head and gave Chuck a look. "No, they're not fighting."
Chuck's eyes widened. "Oh, assuming it's Mrs. James in there."
Sarah pulled him next door. She turned the skeleton key in the lock and pushed the door open slightly. The lights were on in the room. She dropped her keys back in her pocket, reached beneath her coat and got her gun. She put her finger to her lip and turned, leading Chuck inside.
Sarah's dad was prone on the floor of the room. The leather bag was on the floor beside him, its contents spilled around it, Ellie's things. There were no records.
There was no blood. Sarah rushed to her dad. When she got closer, she saw the tranq dart on the floor near him. She checked his pulse. He was alive, drugged, but alive. She noticed an unbent bobby pin on the floor.
Sarah grabbed the bag and rummaged in it. The records were gone. Gone.
Chuck came and knelt beside her. "Is Jack…?"
"No, he's been tranqed, like you were, but he came here, to 2022. What the hell did he think he was doing?"
"That's what I'd like to know…" A voice said from the doorway, accompanied by the sound of the door closing. Sarah turned to look.
Agent Lakoff was standing there, gun out, silenced, trained on Sarah and Chuck.
Lakoff gestured for Sarah and Chuck to move away from Jack. They did.
"What do you want, Lakoff?" Sarah demanded, tense, ready, examining the room, Lakoff himself.
"That will be clear in a minute." Lakoff stood with the gun on them, his face calm, dangerous.
Time stretched out and kept stretching. Tick, tick, tock, tick, tick, tock.
Sarah saw Chuck grimace but fight to stay upright.
A moment later, there was a soft knock on the door.
Lakoff opened it.
CIA Director Joad strode into the room.
"Hello, Agent Walker. I was somehow sure we would meet again. Oh, and Daddy, too."
Joad's slow smile was colder than the wind off the Lake.
All Sarah Spook's ghosts had gathered.
A/N: Cue noir spy music. The bit I have in mind is on YouTube, under: The Spy - Noir/Jazz Music. That's been in my head as I wrote this novel. I'll link it on the Chuck Fanfiction FB page.
We're in the final chapters now, events and revelations. This chapter sets the table...
Thoughts?
I hope everyone is doing well. Safe and sound and shut-in.
My intention is for this to be the last long Zettel tale. From here on out, unless I co-author something, my novel-length work will be devoted to original tales. I may still write an occasional Chuck novella or short-story or one-shot, but that will be all.
