A/N: Final regular chapter of our story.


(She Was A) Hotel Detective

Chapter Thirty-One: Kool and Hot


Wednesday, November 10, 1965
The Palmer House Hotel, Chicago
Room 2022


Sarah opened her eyes to fog.

Or gas.

Gas.

She blinked. Blinked again. She was staring at the ceiling of a Palmer House room, presumably 2022.

She was not on top of Chuck; she was not on the floor. She was on something soft.

The bed.

But the air was foggy.

Or gassy.

Gas. The grenade.

She sat up immediately and regretted it. The pain in her head was blinding and she squeezed her eyes shut. Chuck! She opened her eyes and turned her head.

Chuck was on the bed, beside her. She grabbed his arm. He moved in response, coming to consciousness but more slowly than Sarah.

The air was foggy. Or gassy.

Or smoky. Cigarette smoke.

She turned to see Algernon seated in the room's armchair.

Algernon had dragged it from its normal position near the bed into the middle of the floor, and he was surrounded by unconscious bodies. Jack, Devon, Rizzo, Joad, and Lakoff.

On the floor by the armchair, on one side, was a gas mask. On the other side was a black bag, a leather briefcase. Perched on the top of the briefcase was a pack of non-filter Kool cigarettes and a Soviet-make petrol lighter.

Algernon had his legs crossed and was smoking contemplatively, his head turned, watching the soft-falling snow outside the window. The window was cracked and Sarah could feel the cold air wafting in, see a few snowflakes blown inside to melt into nothing. Algernon took a puff of his cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke in the general direction of the window, then he turned to Sarah. The records — Sarah was unsure if they were fake or real — were in his lap.

"Algernon," Sarah managed to croak out, her throat sandy, her tongue tingly, like she had somehow slept on it.

"Agent Walker, no, Detective Walker. I suspected you would be quickest to respond to the drug I used to counteract the gas. Tranqed before, no doubt, and building an immunity..."

Sarah moved her tongue and her lips, trying to force normal feeling back into them. "Are they all…"

"Gassed. Non-lethally, as you have just discovered. But I have not administered the counteragent to any of them, only to the two of you. Frankly, I would rather they...rested. Others will arrive soon to separate the sheep from the goats, and to see that everyone revives safely."

Sarah shook her head. She saw Chuck move his arm, his leg. She looked at Algernon.

He was encircled by smoke, garlanded by unconscious bodies. His hair was wild, clownish, Sarah shuddered, worse than it normally looked when he was Jeff Barnes, and his face had lost the definition it had in the car. He seemed half Jeff Barnes, half Algernon, in-between.

"I don't understand."

"I will explain, but first, see to Mr. Bartowski. He is almost conscious, and I imagine the first thing he will want to see is you. Don't worry, I won't see anything I haven't heard." He gave her a quick, apologetic smile.

She scooted up the bed a little and leaned down. Chuck opened his eyes. He saw her and he gave her a heavy, sleepy smile. "Hey, baby…"

"Hey, sweetie...You need to wake up. Algernon is here."

Chuck seemed to go back to sleep — then he sat up immediately. He grabbed his head after he did. "Oh, Oh, Oh!"

"It's okay, Algernon gave us a drug to counteract the gas.

"The grenade was gas?"

"Yes."

Chuck had his head cradled in his hands. He looked up. "Algernon gave me...another...drug? Does he have the antidote?"

The question was at the forefront of Sarah's mind too, she grabbed one of Chuck's hands and wheeled to face Algernon.

"Ah, yes, the antidote. I'm afraid you are going to be...unhappy with me about that. There is no antidote."

Sarah tried to stand but wobbled and fell back, seated, onto the bed. Her stomach flipped.

"Sorry, Detective, the counteragent has strong side effects but they are temporary. In another fifteen minutes or so, you will begin to feel more normal."

"No antidote," Sarah hissed, "you…"

"There is no antidote because there is no poison."

Chuck was still rubbing his head: he stopped. "No poison?"

"No, and I am sorry to have manipulated you so cruelly," Algernon offered, glancing at Chuck, "sorry for using the Detective's feelings to manipulate her."

Chuck peered at Algernon as if he were out-of-focus. "So, I sucked down all that Succimer for nothing?" Chuck's S's lisped slightly.

Algernon's manner shifted; he chuckled and took another puff. "Ah, you were trying to remedy yourself." He made a face. "Succimer. Yuck. A mercaptan taste and odor, rotting cabbages, old tube socks. I am sorry that I caused that insult to be added to the injury of my deception."

Chuck worked his tongue and lips. "Why do it?"

Sarah nodded.

Algernon produced a small, topaz ashtray from beneath the records in his lap and he balanced it on one of the armchair's arms, tapping his cigarette's ash into it. "As I told you, Detective, you could do things I couldn't, go to places I couldn't go. And you proved me right about that. You succeeded fabulously. You are everything I expected — more."

Sarah wanted to attack Algernon but she was too weak still, too sick to her stomach. And too relieved. All she could do was ask the next question.

"At what did I succeed? I mean, yes, we found the records, but Chuck didn't break the code."

"Actually," Chuck said, still moving his tongue around beneath his lips, "I did break it, too late. The whole pattern didn't hit me until Joad started for the door. And I only saw the first page, remember. But it was a record of comings and goings, people, money, drugs, weapons. Mob stuff, but not only that."

"No, Chuck," Algernon said, "not only that. Let me tell you the story — briefly — from the beginning. Algernon's beginning. Except, you see, there is no Algernon, no more than there was a poison or an antidote."

He took one last puff on the vanishing end of his Kool, then stubbed it out in the ashtray. "I can't tell you how long I looked forward to that cigarette. If I had to smoke another Belomorkanal…" He looked at Chuck. "Soviet cigarettes. They taste like sh...Succimer."

Chuck made a face.

Sarah shook her head again. "I still don't understand."

"I'm sorry. My name is not Algernon. My name is not Jeff Barnes. — You don't need to know my name, but you do need to know that I am — sort of — CIA. I was recruited many years ago, very young, and when I went through the Farm. I excelled there. They erased my records when I finished, but if they had not, they would have stood until you, Detective, went through the Farm. You beat my high scores, or so I have been told. I believe it now.

"I was taken out of the Farm just before graduation, installed in an off-the-books, multi-agency, top-secret, deep-cover, long-term assignment." He smiled. "Quite a mouthful and living it was harder than saying it. I was put through long intensive training in Russian, all things Russian. They made me Russian.

"They wiped me off the CIA books because I had to be untraceable. I was to become a double-agent, to go to Moscow and find my way into the KGB. I had no backup, no help. It was a brutal assignment. But the fear was that the Soviet Union had introduced young people, children, into the US years before, brainwashed, or maybe, since Mr. Bartowski is here, programmed, as folks are now saying. Sleeper agents. There were rumors that some of those children had grown up and were now assuming positions of influence and power in the US. I was a reverse-sleeper, sent in as if Russian, to identify and hunt their sleepers.

"After a few years, I was able to get myself noticed and recruited into the KGB, to become an agent for them. I had two US handlers, one in the CIA, one in the NSA. But no one else knew about me, my work, my mission. We were not sure who might be one of the programmed Soviets, where they might be.

"So, I worked alone, with very little friendly contact. But I succeeded. I identified a number of the programmed Soviets, sleepers, and they were...quietly eliminated. My handlers found ways of attributing various CIA op failures, the unfortunate losses of certain agents, to Algernon, to me, though I had nothing to do with them, and so, even as I worked against the Soviets, my stature in the KGB grew. I had a reputation as having a nose for Americans, for the CIA; I got more and more freedom…" he huffed at the word, "...as a KGB agent.

"But eventually I came to suspect that Joad was a programmed Soviets, a sleeper. I won't go into the details, but I picked up hints in Moscow, in various places, that the programming had paid remarkable and unhoped-for dividends.

"But I could prove nothing. His birth records all seemed legitimate. His parents were dead. He never bloodied his own hands; he was a master manipulator. I was virtually certain his rise in the CIA was a dark mirror of mine in the KGB. The KGB sacrificed missions and agents to help him rise, to give him credibility, status.

"The problem was that as Joad rose, his ability to do what he wanted to do became constrained. He could not turn CIA agents willy-nilly."

Algernon looked at Sarah and then at Lakoff on the ground.

"So, he did all that he could safely to create disaffected agents, loose cannons — his Interrogation Course, for example — as a way of decreasing morale, enlarging his pool of potential recruits. He was diverting secrets and money and weapons to the Soviets, but I could not figure out how.

"Until I realized he was using underworld characters to do it, conmen and criminals and mobsters. His use of you and your father, Detective, when you were still in high school, was twice at the cost of the CIA, the US, although you two believed you were helping.

"That was the beginning of a pattern. He eventually began to use Accardo and the Outfit, although I am not sure Accardo realized exactly what was happening; not at first. But Joad used mobsters, many from the Outfit, to kill CIA agents, other US intelligence personnel, government functionaries, and private citizens. He used them to move money and guns and drugs and women...and children. Awful stuff. But he did almost all of it through blind drones, people ultimately acting on his orders but who did not know it, or did not understand what was happening. He never dealt with Accardo or any mobster in person. He sometimes used loyal CIA operatives to carry out his wishes without them knowing it." Algernon looked at Rizzo. "Like her father. Agent Rizzo's dad is not one of Joad's, but Joad used him without his knowledge on occasion, like the times he used you and your father.

"He used the few agents he had personally turned, trusted, to create and contact the drones. Bonita Feres turned out to be one, or so I believe, but she killed herself, apparently, just a few months ago, before I could take her."

"Boneyard is dead?" Sarah asked, stunned, thinking of the woman the last time she saw her, in Paris.

Algernon nodded. "Her pistol in her mouth. Of course, there was no news about it. Just a quiet Langley star."

"But she...That means...Joad intended to, was trying to, recruit me..."

Algernon nodded again. "I suspect so. But you had the character to quit. And then I got my break. I found out from a contact I developed in the Outfit about Manny Sklar and Maria Tomek's records. And I knew that if I could get my hands on them, they would provide the proof I needed, the links from Joad to various...events, people."

"But Maria had no idea, did she, that the books had anything to do with the CIA?"

"No, neither she nor Sklar. Sklar intended to blackmail the Outfit. He had no idea he was slowly compiling a record that would indict Joad and the CIA as well as Accardo and the Outfit."

"But Maria was going to defect…" Sarah noted.

Algernon frowned. "Yes, she was. I made her believe that the records were what Joad told you they were, records that revealed CIA plans, agents, and so on. And in one sense that's true, but they were CIA agents who were Joad's double-agents.

"But she got...cocky, hard to handle. She thought that her connection to the KGB, supposed connection, made her untouchable, and she hoped she could milk more from Accardo, so she registered under her name, called him, to lure him in. And that got her killed. Greed. She was a seriously greedy woman.

"Maybe she was not always that way, but she became that way around the Outfit, with Sklar. Who knows what they did to her. — Of course, I should not complain about her greed. I was using it too."

"So, she chose to register under her name?" Chuck asked.

"Yes, I did not realize she had done it until she was dead. I had given her quite a lot of cash and I guess she thought bills turned bullets. She wanted to double-dip." He picked up the Kool pack and shook out another cigarette while shaking his head. He lit it with the lighter, the smell of petrol briefly in the room.

He looked at the lighter, then displayed it to Sarah and Chuck. "Souvenir. Stole it at a bar in Moscow. It belonged to Brezhnev before he came to power. He forgot it by his empty vodka glass. Couldn't resist it. Doubt he ever missed it, but it means something to me."

He offered a Kool to Sarah, then to Chuck. Both turned slightly green and refused. He put the lighter in his pocket.

Sarah watched him inhale. "Why did you bug this room?"

"Well, I knew it was under construction, and I planned to hide Maria here until I could move her: she was going to go into NSA custody. But it was complicated." He smiled at Sarah. "You could say that you had my idea, Detective, you just hid a different person. And, everything was complicated for me because of Nemur and Strauss…"

"Where are they?"

"In a room down the hall, dead. You see, they are...were...KGB." He huffed bitterly. "They thought that everything I told you in the car was a lie, or if true, they interpreted it a different way. They did not believe I was an American, but they thought I wanted you to believe that, a red herring should you ever talk to anyone about me." He waved the cigarette. "And so on…"

"But how did you know about 2022?"

"Jeff Barnes had a confederate in the Palmer House."

Sarah stared at him then wanted to kick herself. "Louisa!"

Algernon nodded. "But I should say she was not personally involved in my pretended thefts. But she would answer questions for me about routines, staff, and so on. She's desperate for money, her kids, her husband sick…"

"But she was going through the hotel hunting for me, wasn't she?" Chuck asked.

Algernon shook his head. "No, she was working for me but she was looking for…"

"Joad," Sarah said.

"Yes, Joad. Lakoff felt like Rizzo was getting close, getting a better picture of Maria's background, and that she would soon find the records. He called Joad and Joad came. Joad was not going to let those records fall into any hands but his own. Not even Lakoff's.

"I got a tip from someone in DC when the plane left. But Joad did not check-in in person. Someone else did it and used an alias. But I knew in my gut he was here; I knew how he operated. So, I had Louisa checking on the rooms recently rented."

"So, she wasn't looking for me?"

"No, Chuck, if I may," he paused and Chuck nodded, "and she would never have disturbed this room because it was supposed to have no occupant. She had no idea you were here.

"I knew Joad had to be getting room service, so had to be — under an alias — a registered guest. Unfortunately, she never found him."

"So, my dad, he brought the records here and told you, the bugs, he had them?"

"Yes, and to his credit, he did demand the antidote — along with a lot of cash. I came up, tranqed him, and took them. I left him for you to find."

"And you were just going to leave, leave us to worry that Chuck would die tomorrow."

The apologetic grin returned. "No. I left a note in the bathroom, along with some aspirin for Jack. The note explains that there was no poison.

"But when I went to gather my things, to get out of Dodge, so to speak, I heard Joad arrive and...I couldn't leave you to him. I wanted to take him down in DC, let others handle it, and fade away. But, once he knew these records were fake, he probably would have killed you both. He certainly would have thrown you in a hole at least. I had done enough to you, asked enough of you, so to speak. My poison hoax was cruel, but it was fake. Joad was all-too-real.

"I just couldn't do it. And besides, events, and you, Detective, inspired me. I'm going to see that our sleeper friend here...quietly disappears...and that the CIA is rid of his influence...and then I am done. I quit. This has been my life for too long, such as it has been. I've hurt many innocent people and my justifications, well, let's they've soured on me. I hardly know who I am anymore — if I do at all. I'm not sure I can quit being Algernon, but I am going to try. I'm pretty sure my handlers will make my retirement sweet, sunny beaches and umbrella drinks and grass skirts and strong breezes."

"Wait, Joad said there was a van…"

"There was but Nemur and Strauss saw them arrive and used our other gas grenade on the team in it while I was...negotiating with your father…Joad never knew. I...retired them when they came back upstairs."

He took a long hit on the Kool, its end turning bright orange. He held the smoke in his lungs for several seconds before blowing it out his nose. He crushed the cigarette and stood up, resting the ashtray on the arm of the chair and securing the fake records in his hand. He opened his briefcase and slipped them inside, next to an almost identical pair. He put the cigarettes in too.

"Stay here. Folks will arrive soon, the good guys. There will be a debriefing, but a normal one, not one of Joad's. Cooperate, and you folks should be done with all this before it turns midnight. I've told them to go easy on you."

He moved to the other side of the chair and picked up the gas mask and put it inside, then shut the briefcase.

"One other thing," Sarah said, her hand in the air, stopping him, "How did Joad find us?"

"Um, I'm not sure. — Did you take the elevator up here?"

"Yes, but not until the eighth floor."

"Detective, that was a mistake. Ellie Mills' room was on the eighth floor and Lakoff was watching it off and on. He must have seen you."

Sarah dropped her head. Chuck put his arm around her. "It was my fault. My stupid ulcer. I was worried I was dying from poison. She was worried about me."

Algernon smiled sneakily back at them. "I have to say, that ulcer gave me the poison idea. Have a good life, Detective. Keep the fact that you broke that code to yourself, Chuck; it'll make the rest of the evening simpler. If things work out for me, you will never see me again." He glanced out the window. "Think of me when the weather warms, the grass greens and glows."

He left 2022.


Sarah got off the elevator in the lobby.

She had gone through almost three hours of questions, signed various documents. But it was over. All of it. Her relief had reenergized her.

The CIA and NSA had or would clean it up. Larkin, Shaw, Joey The Clown. Joad was gone, likely never to be seen again. The whole thing would be kept quiet. For Joad, at any rate, there would be no trial.

She saw Chuck standing near the front desk. He was talking to Norbert Davis. She felt full to bursting with hope and love.

"So," Norbert said, smiling at Sarah as she walked up, "Chuck tells me the murder has been solved and...everything is okay. But I have to say, he won't tell me what he means by 'everything'. Very mysterious. Hush-hush, almost...top secret?"

Sarah smiled at Chuck, a lighthouse smile, and took his hand. But she spoke to Norbert."We're not going to talk about it, but, yes, everything is okay."

Chuck leaned down and kissed her cheek, nuzzling it softly.

"I've been on the lookout for you two since the weekend, but no luck. And I have to leave town tomorrow. Back to my office, my Olympia typewriter, and prayers to the Muses.

"You can keep that copy of Playback, Chuck. I am glad to have met you both. I will be back next year, and maybe we can all have a drink together and you could tell me a noir Just-So story, maybe prompt me for a new book?"

Chuck looked at Sarah and she nodded. "Norbert, it's a date."

"Wonderful. I will see you both then." Norbert gave them both a large smile and shook their hands before walking to the elevator.

Sarah looked around. "Where's Devon?"

"Um, he went downstairs with the boss, with Casey."

Sarah's eyes widened. "Oh. And Ellie?"

"One of the men who came in after Algernon left took her upstairs a little while ago — after he brought Devon down. The man said it wouldn't take too long. I expect her back any minute."

Robert came out of the office to stand at the desk. He nodded subtly to Sarah and she nodded back.

She looked at Chuck. "So, they said they took Dad to the hospital to see about his broken finger?"

"Yes," Chuck nodded, "and he called the front desk a minute ago from the hospital. He's been released. He's on his way to Marlena's."

"Oh, good. Probably better I have...time before I see him again." She glared, thinking about Jack.

Chuck shuddered. "That thing you do with your eyes. I hope you never direct that at me."

She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him quickly. "Just stay my sweetie, and you're in the clear."

Robert was staring at them, shaking his head.

The elevator opened and Ellie stepped off. She blew out a sigh. "Wow, what a night. But everyone's okay, right?" She asked the question of Sarah as she hugged her.

"Yes," Sarah replied, returning the hug, "Dad's finger was broken but he's had it taken care of. Devon is downstairs with Casey, the boss, and I don't know how that's going."

"Well," Ellie observed confidently, "Devon can handle himself. I'm just glad I left Patel's and walked here, even if it was freezing and I arrived too late for all the action — and just in time for the interrogation."

"Speaking of…" Chuck whispered.

Sarah turned. Casey was marching toward her. He reached her and he grabbed her, pulling her into a mighty bearhug.

After a second of surprise, she hugged him back. Casey let go finally.

At that moment, Devon walked up, a grin on his face. He took Ellie's hand.

Casey smiled at them all, but then settled his smile on Sarah. "We'll talk about this tomorrow or the next day, but for now, thanks, Sarah. I knew you could do it. Solve the murder. Everything. Mr. Hilton is pleased, very pleased."

She felt herself tear up. "Thanks, Casey. So, I still have a job?"

"Yes, of course, although we will talk about that too when the time comes."

Casey looked at Robert. "Do you have it?" Robert nodded. He picked up a key from the desk and handed it to Casey.

"The penthouse is empty tonight. Why don't you take it, Sarah? Oh, and your roommate, Carina, was down here waiting for a long time. After I talked to...the government folks…" — Casey's voice dropped when he said 'government folks' — "I comped her a room for the night too, the second floor.

"It's too damn cold to be on the train or trying to find a taxi. Morgan helped her up."

Casey smiled at Sarah, then winked at Chuck. "The penthouse. — Remember, we need to talk."

Casey walked around the desk and into the office.

Chuck looked at Sarah. "I didn't see Morgan take Carina upstairs. I wonder where he is?"

Sarah gave Chuck an incredulous stare. "Do you?"

Chuck's eyes opened wide. "Morgan?"

"I thought Carina was grieving?" Ellie said.

Sarah shook her head. "She's been...getting over it."

There was a moment of silence, then a moment of shared, quiet laughter.

"Ellie, you still have your room, right?"

"Yes, and I am going up now." Ellie gave Devon a long kiss. "See you tomorrow?"

Devon nodded. Ellie got on the elevator; she and Devon stared at each other as the door closed between them.

Sarah took Chuck's hand again. "Good night, Devon. I'm taking a couple of days off. But I'm sure I'll see you around tomorrow or the next day."

Devon gave her a wide grin. "I suspect so." He turned and headed down the hallway to the steps, back to the basement office.

"Alright, Chuck," Sarah said, "the twenty-fifth floor awaits. The penthouse."

"We need to stop on the twentieth floor."

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because you left something hidden in the bathroom of 2022."

"Huh? What?"

"That bag that had Playback in it, and...something else. I peeked while I was alone in the room." Chuck blushed — and Sarah remembered.

"Oh, right, that...that little red nothing. A gift from Carina. Well, assuming no one took it, we can reclaim it on our way to the penthouse."

Chuck leaned down, put his lips against her ear. "Will we have to be quiet?"

"No, Chuck," she said, instantly hot all over, and squeezing his hand in promise, "no one will hear and we can make all the noise we want."


The End


(She Was A) Hotel Detective


Arc 1: Sudden Thaw 1-12
Arc 2: This Fevered Spring 13-24
Arc 3: Green Grass Glowing 25-31


A/N: An epilogue will arrive eventually and it will wrap up some loose ends, assuming folks are interested. I will say a bit more about the story in an A/N after it. Thanks for reading. Thoughts?