Chapter 21: The Traitor Part 2

Florida, North of Miami, April 27th, 2008

A secret escape tunnel - or lift - in Spencer's bedroom!

John shook his head as he clenched his teeth. This complicated things.

"Let me see if I can find it in the system!" Bartowski said over the radio. "It shouldn't… there has to be some way to connect…"

John tuned the nerd's mumbling out as he looked around in the closet. "Lift or passage?"

Caridad dropped to the ground and sniffed, then shook her head. "He went out the same way he came in."

"Lift then," John concluded.

"I'm coming!" Bartowski announced. "If it's a lift, I can - probably - take control of it once I can access its systems. It seems to be completely separated from the security system here," he added.

"He must have a second security system," Walker said.

"We didn't detect anything," Bartowaski protested.

"That doesn't mean that there isn't one - it means we failed," John told him. And failure as a spy was often fatal. He looked around but couldn't spot any camera or other sensor. That didn't mean anything, of course.

Bane looked around as well, and Walker studied the bedroom.

"He has to have cameras here," John muttered,

"Unless he doesn't trust his own people," Bane retorted. "He had no cameras in his bedroom for the security on this floor."

John nodded. And that meant no remote-controlled traps here, either. Perhaps not even traps in the lift. The sentry gun wouldn't have been able to reach the bedroom, after all.

Bartowski arrived, breathing a little heavy - had he skimped on working out lately? "Alright, guys… let me see if I can pick up a signal. If it's remote-controlled, perhaps..."

While the nerd went to work, John looked around again. A bunker as a last refuge only made sense if there was a way to escape or if you expected relief to arrive.

"If he has a submarine, we're screwed," Caridad said.

"I doubt he has a submarine. Even building an underwater exit is no small challenge," John told her. "At least secretly." Not impossible by any means, but there was a limit to what Spencer could have done. "But he'll have called for help." And he would expect other forces to secure the island, so he wouldn't just bolt.

"Which means we're on a timer," the Slayer replied.

"I've got no signal. For a remote control, I mean, not for my phone," Bartowski announced.

Caridad went sniffing again. "If it wasn't a remote, he'll have touched something. But the whole closet smells like him. Or stinks."

John saw her reach around, almost touching shelves and hangers. Then she stared at a strip. "That…" She ran her hand over it, pressing down - and they heard a click.

A moment later, the closet started to go down.

John threw himself out of it, followed by Caridad, who tackled Bartowski on the way out, almost bowling Walker and Bane over.

"Hey!"

"Spencer might not have trapped the closet - but he'll have something waiting for unwanted guests dropping by when he is present," John said.

A moment later, they heard machine gun fire.

"Another sentry gun?" Caridad asked, head cocked to the side. "It sounds like one."

"Would fit him," John said. He peered down the shaft. "Cabin's still down there. About two floors."

Caridad grinned. "I can handle it."

"You're wounded," John retorted. Next time, she might not get lucky.

"I've got its number now." Her grin widened. "Rifle?"

"Use a grenade," he told her.

"A rocket launcher would be nice," Bartowski commented.

"The backblast would be deadly in the shaft," Bane pointed out.

"Let's get down!" Caridad grabbed an axe from her belt and started hitting the cables of the secret lift. After a few strikes, it snapped and fell down.

Then she jumped on the cabin's roof and began to hack her way through. More gunfire erupted, and she quickly jumped back and up as bullets tore through the cabin's roof. Hissing, she landed back in the bedroom, holding her stomach. "Vest stopped them," she said before John reached her. "Hurt like a bitch, though."

"The cabin's roof saved you," he told her. The bullets would have gone through the vest, otherwise.

"What do we do now?" Bartowski asked. "How much ammo does this thing have." He blinked. "Oh. So much."

"We'll have to use more explosives," John said. He peered down again. "One charge to blow a hole into the roof, the other to blow up the sentry gun."

He pulled out a little more C-4 - not too much for the cabin, or he might collapse the shaft - and prepared two charges. "Cover your ears."

Caridad slapped both hands over her ears and opened her mouth. For supernatural hearing, this must be torture.

John dropped the charge anyway, then triggered it five seconds later. A column of fire shot up the shaft. As soon as it collapsed, he dropped the next charge.

Caridad was down the shaft an instant after the next explosion shook the house. John saw her disappear in the smoke and dust thrown up the shaft and cursed under his breath. Always charging ahead.

He ran after her, almost shouldering Walker out of the way as the other spy tried to cut ahead of him. On the way, he slipped his mask on - the dust would be murder on anyone's lungs - before he peered down. Still too dusty, but…

"The door's jammed on the machine gun!"

Good. John hadn't been looking forward to trying to bust into a bunker with explosives. "Coming down," he replied and tied a line to the remains of the closet's door.

The dust was settling when he reached the bottom. The closet had been torn apart by the two explosions, and Caridad was trying to push the heavy door - a vault's door - open by herself.

She groaned, gripping the doorframe's edge with both hands and using both feet to push against the vault door - so far to no avail. It would've been funny on another occasion. Now? They needed to get the damn door open.

He quickly jammed another part of the sentry gun that had been blown into the closet into the gap, then pulled out his periscope and checked the other side, ducking beneath Caridad to do so. There were the door hinges - massive, but not particularly armoured. And there was the mechanism that tried to close the door.

Alright. He pulled out another pack of C-4 and a small cord. Using a broken metal part from the closet as a weight, he leaned in and jammed his arm through the gap, holding the cord. He tried not to think about what would happen if the door suddenly closed.

Then he swung the weighted cord, back and forth, before letting it fly. His first attempt to have it wrap itself around the bar pushing the door failed, but his second worked. Then he pulled the cord he still held through a small plastic bag containing the C-4 charge and lifted one end of the cord until the bag started to slide towards the bar.

"On three, let go and pull back," he told Caridad.

"Uh… another explosion? Won't that endanger the entire house?" Bartowski asked from above.

"It's a risk I'm willing to take," John told him with a grin. "One. Two. Three."

The Slayer let go, and John pushed the trigger. Another explosion sent dust and smoke into the narrow room, blinding him for a moment. But it looked like…

Something - someone hit him and pushed him back, against the wall, Before he could react, the closet's floor shook again, and he stared, through thinning dust, at the upper half of the vault door, which had crushed the floor in front of him. Where he had been standing a moment ago.

Caridad pushed away from him with a tight smile. "Close."

"Close," he agreed.

Then they were off again, charging into the bunker. Caridad passed him halfway through the remains of the door - no airlock, he noticed, just a normal hallway; sloppy. And there was a t-junction. No alcoves to fire from, either. This wasn't a bunker meant to be defended against an assault.

Which meant the odds of Spencer having an escape route just went up.

"Left or right?" he asked.

Caridad cocked her head then sniffed the air, sneezing right afterwards. "Ugh… damn dust. And my hearing is still wonky from the explosions."

Ah. Right led to the centre of the island. Left led towards the sea. "Time to split up," he told the others. "You go right, we go left."

"Gotcha!" Bartowski said, nodding. Walker, Bane and Caridad were already moving.

John rushed after Caridad. Two doors - metal, but not very thick - lined the hallway there, corner up ahead. She kicked in the first door. Storage room. Supplies.

Next door. More supplies. Food and water.

Corner. Caridad froze. Then she gasped.

"I hear him!"

And she was off.

He ran after her. "Wait!"

"I hear an engine starting! I have to stop him!"

An engine? But… Spencer would have had ample time to use a getaway vehicle - they had lost a lot of time dealing with the door and sentry gun. Why would he start it up now? And why would a getaway vehicle not be ready to go at a moment's notice?

His eyes widened. "It's a trap!" he yelled into the radio. "The vehicle is a trap!"

Another explosion shook the bunker.

Caridad! He pushed himself further, running faster, almost slipping as he took the next corner - there she was. Caridad was on the floor, in front of a door out of which smoke billowed, but she was moving, shaking her head as if dazed. "Caridad!"

She turned and looked at him. Blinked. "John."

He knelt down, glancing around. The coast was clear. But through the wrecked door, he could see flames in the room.

"It was a trap," she said.

"Yes."

"There was no vehicle. It was a generator."

"Ah." She didn't look seriously hurt, but she was banged up - she had been thrown into the wall - and shockwaves could cause internal injuries. And the bandage covering her gunshot wound was soaked.

Before he could check further, she gripped his shoulder hard enough to make him wince and pulled herself up. "Bastard almost got me."

"We'll get him," he replied without thinking.

The Slayer bared her teeth at him. "Oh, yes!" She stood, bracing herself against the wall for a moment, then turned to look down the hallway, which was leading towards the centre of the island. "Let's go!"

This time, she ran more slowly, which allowed him to keep up easily. She also moved with less grace than usual - she was hurt more than she let on. But she did move and wasn't impaired as far as he could tell.

The smoke from the trapped room was overtaking them, though. "How much fuel was in the room?" he asked, adjusting his mask.

"Didn't see it. I'm guessing: lots," she replied.

Damn. They needed a door they could lock behind them to contain the smoke - Spencer really hadn't thought when he planned his bunker.

More rooms lined this part. Small rooms, some barely more than closets. Many of them empty. "This isn't a finished bunker," he commented, then used his radio. "Bartowski?"

No answer. The reinforced concrete must be blocking the radio waves.

"Doesn't look like it'll ever be finished," Caridad replied. Then they reached a door barring their way. Not a bulwark or vault-style door, but sturdy enough so a Slayer wouldn't be able to kick it off its hinges.

Which Caridad promptly proved by kicking it several times, only stopping after a running jump kick failed to budge it.

The metal was dented, though, John noted while he checked the lock. It was another security lock - it would take too long to pick. He placed another charge. "I'm about to run out of explosives," he muttered. That had been bad planning on his part. He should have given more explosives to Caridad - a Slayer could carry far more supplies than a marine.

Still, this wasn't the time to dwell on that. They moved back behind the corner, then John triggered the charge.

And Caridad was rushing forward again. He was about to curse as he rounded the corner when he saw her stopping at the blown door. "Movement!" she muttered.

He tensed and aimed his rifle into the fading smoke.

"Wheels," Caridad added. "Small wheels. Lots of them."

His eyes widened. "Drones!" he snapped.

They fell back, almost reaching the corner when the first drone rolled out of the smoke. It looked like a toy - a miniature pickup truck - but there was a camera mounted on its front and a grenade strapped to its back.

John shot it and the one following it. Then Caridad pulled him around the corner just as more explosions followed.

"Saw the grenades getting released," she explained as both of them got up again.

He nodded, then shook his head - he had felt the shockwave from those. Spencer must really love his toys, he realised. Not surprising coming from a data analyst who never worked in the field.

They moved forward again. Back to the door. More cautious, though - by the time they reached it, the smoke from the burning generator was mixing with the smoke left by the grenades. And breathing was getting a little difficult. Perhaps they should've put the fire out. He coughed. Definitely should've put the fire out. Another mistake.

But they were in the central area of the bunker now. And it showed - the lighting was better. And John saw the remains of a poster on the wall. Some movie or other.

"Casey? Caridad?"

He gasped - as did Caridad. "Bartowski?" The radio was working again. They had to be close.

"Yes. We've got a problem," the nerd said.

More than one - John doubted that the man was talking about the fire slowly filling the entire bunker with smoke. But they moved forward anyway. Another corner - hadn't Spencer heard of straight lines - and there was Bartowski. And Walker. Both looked banged up, Bartowski had blood running down his face. And they were pointing their guns at…

...Spencer holding a pistol to an unconscious Bane's temple.

Goddamnit! They needed Spencer alive to question him and ferret out the entire structure of Fulcrum.

"Casey!" Bartowski blurted out, announcing their arrival.

"Ah, the famous John Casey. Or should that be infamous?" Spencer tried to sound amused but didn't quite pull it off - another sign that the guy hadn't been in the field. Holding down your own in budget meetings didn't prepare you for a Mexican standoff. Or a home invasion..

Instead of answering, John looked around. They were in what obviously was meant to be Spencer's quarters in the bunker. Bed, desk, dresser, armoire - and all IKEA, from what John could tell. All but the big chair and the computer screens on the wall. Those looked like custom work. Same model they had found in his home in Langley - and topside here. And an air filtration system that kept the smoke out of the room with a constant breeze.

"Mr Spencer, you are trapped," Bartowski said. "You can't escape."

John saw Spencer's eyes darting to the wall opposite the computer screens. Another secret passage? Or a ruse? Underestimating Spencer would be a mistake, but so would be overestimating him.

"I have a hostage, Mr Bartowski. And I know you're not the kind of man to sacrifice a friend to catch an enemy," Spencer replied. "Unlike others," he added with a sneer at John.

That was his cue. "If we let you escape with Bane, we might as well shoot her ourselves," John told the scumbag. "She'd prefer that to becoming mind-controlled." Again.

Spencer's lips twisted into a smirk. "But she'd prefer living to dying. As do I." He suddenly tensed. "If the cyborg moves any closer, I shoot Bane."

John heard Caridad draw a hissing breath next to him. She must not be certain to be able to take the traitor out before he could kill Bane, or she'd have acted already. Damn.

"I'm no cyborg, you idiot," she spat.

Spencer scoffed. "I saw you move. I analysed your body with the best computers available. Your reaction speed, power and resilience break every human limit."

"Uh… I think your analysis is suffering from a critical flaw," Bartowski piped up.

"Really?" Spencer grinned at the nerd. "Would you care to enlighten me?" He spoke in a mocking tone. Baiting Bartowski. Sure of his own superiority.

The traitor loved this, John realised. Loved showing off. Talking down to others. Hm…

"Gladly!" Bartowski replied. "You see, while you might have good computers - I've seen better, but I guess you couldn't acquire them without drawing attention, at least not for your house here - the key to any data analysis depends on your data. And I think your data isn't good enough to, uh, analyse Caridad."

"Really? You think the Intersect is superior?" Spencer sneered again. "The Intersect is a tool. An algorithm. It cannot replace proper, smart analysis."

Oh. That hit a nerve. Spencer was focusing on Bartowski. John glanced at Caridad. She must have noticed as well - she was slowly shifting to the side. Away from Bartowski and Spencer's field of vision.

"Exactly!" Bartowski agreed, apparently surprising the traitor. "The Intersect can filter out data and correlate it, but without the correct database, it won't give you useful results. Garbage in, garbage out."

"Garbage, Mr Bartowski?"

"It's an IT term. It means…"

"I know what it means," Spencer snapped.

"Sorry! Anyway - you lack crucial data to properly analyse Caridad. It's like an out of context problem."

"I know about the Initiative. I know about the experiments. I know about Sunnydale's secret."

John tensed. If Spencer knew about magic and demons… no. He would've had much better defences in that case.

"I don't think you do, sorry," Bartowski replied, shaking his head with that pitying smile of his that put you on edge.

Spencer really didn't like that smile. "Everything adds up, Mr Bartowski. Your feeble attempts to hide the truth are pointless. When you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth."

"Sherlock Holmes!" Bartowski nodded.

Caridad was almost out of the man's sight now.

"Yes. Cybernetic augmentation might seem improbable, but every other explanation has been eliminated. Drugs wouldn't be able to make people do what cyborgs can do. Nor would training. And the human limits are well-documented. But I've also found hard evidence. Experimental parts ordered but never delivered. Obviously incomplete - crucially incomplete - but there was enough to confirm the intel we had. And the medical records of the survivors… some of them had implants, you know?"

Bartowski nodded again. "That's all nice and well, but you're still missing a crucial piece of data. Without it, you won't ever find the truth."

"I have found the truth, Mr Bartowski."

Then Caridad moved. One moment, she was there, at the edge of John's field of vision. The next, there was a loud crack and Spencer flew through the air, crashing against the bed. And Caridad was standing above Bane holding Spencer's pistol in her hand. She dropped it on the floor and leapt on Spencer, kicking out.

The man screamed, falling to the ground as something flew through the air to hit the armoire on the side. Something small and beeping. Bomb? No. John froze for a moment. A remote control. Remote detonator.

"You fool! You fucking idiots!" Spencer yelled. "We'll all die!"

Bartowski gasped. John turned his head to catch the nerd blinking. "He triggered a self-destruct!" He blinked again. "Why does he have a self-destruct?"

Who cared about the reason? "Save it! We need to stop it! Now"

"You can't!" Spencer laughed like a madman as he struggled to stand with two mangled arms. "It's too late!"

"I can try to hack the remote!" Bartowski yelled.

"No, Chuck!" Walker grabbed his hand. "We need to leave!"

"Too late! Too late!"

Running back would take too long - and they would have to run through the smoke. Probably the fire as well. And Caridad would have to carry Bane… But why weren't they dead already? Why would Spencer have a delay in his self-destruct, unless...

...he had planned to escape. The wall!

John rushed to the wall Spencer had glanced at earlier. "There's another secret passage!" he yelled. "We need to find it!" He started patting the wall. There had to be...

"Shsh!" Caridad pulled him away. She pressed her ear to the wall and hit it with her fist.

"Too late! We're gonna die! We're gonnUrk…"

Walker had knocked the traitor out. Good.

"Here! This sounds hollow!" Caridad announced, pointing at the wall.

"But the mechanism to open it… it could be anything!" Bartowski shook his head.

"We'll blow it open!" John announced. Too late to run. Too late to search the room. They had to risk it. He pulled out his last pack of C-4 and started putting it against the wall. No time to check how thick it was - and how solid. It wouldn't be a vault door. Spencer used off-the-shelf stuff, mostly. So, a metal door like the others in the bunker. And some plaster to cover it.

John ran some calculations, then placed the charge. "Take cover!"

The others scrambled to the door, where the smoke was barely held at bay by the air conditioning. John ducked behind the bed and triggered the charge.

He felt the explosion like a blow to the chest and grunted, but he was up in a second. The airflow was clearing the smoke and dust, and revealed… yes! He had done it! A jagged hole revealed an escape shaft with a ladder. "Go! Go! Go!" he yelled, pushing the stumbling Bartowski into the shaft.

The nerd started scrambling up the ladder like a pro - the Intersect at work again. Walker followed. That left…

Caridad and him. And Bane and Spencer to be carried out. They needed Spencer to root out Fulcrum. But only Caridad would be quick enough to climb with a body weighing her down.

"Go!" she snapped, dragging both Bane and Spencer towards the shaft.

He clenched his teeth and nodded, then rushed after Walker. Shouldn't the shaft be open already? Halfway up, right behind Walker, he suddenly felt air rush form below. And Walker kept climbing. Out of the shaft.

John reached the top himself, pulling himself out, and rolled over the lawn. They were at the forest's edge. At the other end of the island. "Caridad?"

There she was, all but jumping out of the shaft, Bane slung over her shoulder.

But before Bane hat stopped rolling on the ground, the Slayer turned back to the shaft. John opened his mouth to yell at her - she couldn't do this! It wasn't worth it! Then he saw her pulling on a line, and smiled.

Clever girl.

Caridad heaved reeling the line in as fast as she could. And Spencer did fly out of the shaft like a cork popping from a bottle.

Then a column of fire followed, and the entire island trembled. Spencer hit the ground, his legs on fire. John rushed to the traitor and started smothering the flames. The expensive suit was obviously not flame-retardant. But Spencer would live - provided the knocks to the head he had suffered from Caridad, Walker and his express escape up a shaft hadn't turned his brain to mush.

A groan and a muttered 'bastard' announced Bane waking up. "What?"

"We got Spencer and escaped. He blew up his bunker," Walker told her.

"And we need to go," John added. "He must have called reinforcements."

"He'll have an escape vehicle ready around here," Walker replied. "It's probably faster using it than going back for our gear."

Probably safer, too. John nodded. "Let's find it."

There weren't many places to hide a getaway vehicle. It had to be close to the water, close to the escape tunnel, and quick to be retrieved. John looked around. Spencer wouldn't have taken the shortest route to the shore; that would've been too obvious. So, a little east or west from that point. East was mostly palm trees and beach. West were some rocks. Some quite large rocks.

He started towards them.

"Why wouldn't he have dug a tunnel straight to the sea?" Bartowski asked.

"He did," Walker replied. "On the other side. This was his ace in the hole."

"And he probably didn't want to worry about people using it to enter the bunker straight away," Caridad replied. "Escape tunnels go both ways, as Xander likes to say."

"Or he was out of money or time, or a little too clever for his own good," John said as he peered at the first rock. Which looked quite real. The one behind it, though…

Caridad started hitting it with her fist, head cocked, then nodded. "It's hollow. Any idea how to open it?"

"C-4?" John chuckled - that would likely destroy whatever vehicle was inside, but they were running out of time.

"Let's look for a mechanism… probably underwater, to keep it out of sight," Bartowski said.

Caridad started digging in the sand and actually found a hidden lever. Some heaving later - "stupid idiot let it rust", the Slayer pressed out while struggling - the rock opened up, revealing a powerboat.

"Let's hope it's in better shape than the door was," Caridad muttered as they boarded it.

It was, though it took half a dozen tries to start the engines. They quickly loaded Spencer, now bound and gagged, into it, then piled on and sped away.

And not a moment too soon - there was a helicopter approaching. Fortunately, it wasn't an attack helicopter, but a civilian model. No armour to speak of - but there were people leaning out of the open doors with guns.

"Take over!" John snapped, pushing Bartowski towards the controls. Then he grabbed his rifle. The helicopter had about double their speed - triple, now that the nerd was slowing down - but whoever Spencer had called weren't the best marksmen.

Bursts of automatic fire missed the boat as Bartowski started to weave. John's own answering bursts didn't miss after the first ranging shots. One of the door gunners slumped over and stopped firing, and the helicopter started flying evasively - which ruined any chance of the remaining shooters to hit anything.

"We need a stinger!" Caridad yelled.

"We don't need a stinger," he snapped back. "Just aim for the engines!"

Walker and Bane were - John saw the tracers of their rifles reach out to the helicopter. A few landed near the engine section. His own fire was more precise, but not by much. Caridad's was in between.

But if you put up enough lead into the air, something was bound to be hit. After a few minutes of this, the helicopter peeled off, smoke pouring out of one engine.

They were safe.

Florida, North of Miami, April 28th, 2008

"So… what do we do with Spencer?" Grimes asked as they drove away from the small cove where they had made landfall. "Willow's too busy to interrogate the guy. And, ah…" he trailed off.

"We can interrogate him," Bane said. "We can confirm at least some of the intel with the Intersect." She sounded rather eager. Well, John felt the same.

"What about handing him over to the general?" Bartowski asked.

"As a sort of goodbye gift?" John snorted.

"Uh, I guess so? She could handle his interrogation and investigation."

"Waiting until Willow's free would probably be more effective," Walker pointed out. "The agency has a lot of traitors in it, and if the general trusts the wrong people…"

"Right." Bartowski sighed. "I just thought it would have, uh, smoothed things a little over. You know, explain why we dropped off the grid, so to speak."

"I think the risk is too great. Better interrogate him ourselves. At least first," Bane said.

Grimes, as expected, agreed with her.

"What about calling the general to us?" Bartowski asked.

"I don't think she'll come," Walker replied. "Not alone. And if she picks the wrong guards…"

"She'll think it'll be a trap," John added.

"But, still, torture…"

"Enhanced interrogation," John corrected him. "It's all legal."

"But…"

"Using magic isn't exactly legal, either," Grimes unexpectedly pointed out.

"But less painful," Caridad said. "But we already know he's guilty."

Bartowski sighed.

"You don't have to watch, Chuck," Walker said.

"But I do - we need the Intersect's confirmation."

Tough shit, John thought.

Florida, North of Miami, April 28th, 2008

"...and Marcus Emery. Accounting."

Spencer had broken really quickly. John had suspected that - the traitor was smart and ruthless, but he hadn't gone through the training a field agent took. Hell, he hadn't even gone through anything like the SERE training. It still had taken him far less effort to make the man talk than he had expected. A little waterboarding, and Spencer started spilling his guts. Sure, he tried to lie at first, but… With Bartowski ready to verify most statements, and Orion checking the data, that hadn't lasted long, either.

He looked at Bartowski, who blinked, then nodded. True, then. Walker marked the name down as verified.

"Anyone else?"

"N-no. I don't think so…" Spencer stammered.

"Better be sure," John told him. "If you forgot anyone, they'll try to get you killed in your cell before you expose them."

"I… I'm aware of that."

John smiled without any humour at the scumbag. "Break time. Try to remember more."

He left the room and went up the stairs to the living room of the safe house Orion had organised for them. Grimes and Bane were keeping guard - or resting on the couch, as it turned out. John swallowed his first comment. It was late, after all.

"Are you done?" Grimes asked.

"For the moment," John replied. Spencer would have to be interrogated much more thoroughly, over a period of time, to get every scrap of information out of him. But they had verified that he didn't have a mole too close to the general. "We can hand him over."

Bane nodded, but Grimes smiled, obviously relieved. The man didn't have the stomach for the uglier side of the spy business. Yet John knew he wouldn't baulk at torturing vampires or other demons. Weird.

Bartowski chose that moment to enter the living room, shaking his head. Walker would be guarding Spencer, then.

"Chuck? You OK?" Grimes asked, then glanced at John.

"He got all the workers who installed the bunker for him killed, by the way," Bartowski said as John went to the kitchen.

"What?" Grimes gasped. "But… wouldn't that… wouldn't the Intersect have detected it?"

"He hired Illegal immigrants for it - and had them smuggled into the country for that. There was no paper trail at all!" Bartowski shook his head even though he had known for half an hour about that.

Bane's expression was grim but not surprised. "He wouldn't have risked someone spilling the secret."

And Spencer wouldn't have done the work himself.

"What a monster!" Grimes blurted out.

John shrugged and pulled a soda out of the fridge. No alcohol. Not on a mission. He looked around again.

"Caridad went 'patrolling', Bane said.

"Hunting," Grimes added. "This is a little out of the Miami Slayer's area, so there might be some vampires or other demons around."

"Ah." That made sense.

Bartowski sat down at the dining table, sighed and leaned forward, resting his head on his crossed arms.

"Err… did you ask why he did all that?"

John snorted, which earned him a glare from Bartowski. "He claims he wanted to run the CIA," the nerd said. "Better than anyone."

"Probably still angry that he wasn't promoted above Analyst," John said. "But all he really wanted was power." Like most people, in his experience. He traitor might even have believed his own lies.

"Pointless. All this… just because of his ego?" Bartowski shook his head.

"Demons act like that all the time," Grimes said. "Would be bad if they didn't, too."

"True."

"So, we'll be handing him over to the Agency? Where and when?" Bane asked.

"We haven't contacted the general yet," John told her. That would require some finesse.

Or a call to London, probably, to speed things along and keep her honest.

NSA Safe House, Atlanta, Georgia, April 30th, 2008

General Beckman wasn't happy. And she wasn't bothering to hide it, either. "The reason you disappeared and didn't react to any attempts to contact you was that you were hunting down the leader of Fulcrum," she said as two guards manhandled Spencer out of the room.

"Leader and founder, ma'am," Bartowski said with a forced smile that quickly died at her glare.

"And that is why I got a call from the White House informing me of all of this?" The 'instead of from you' remained unsaid but clearly understood.

"We couldn't risk complications and misunderstandings, ma'am," John said, standing at parade rest.

"Complications?"

John met her eyes. "Some of the moles in the agency might have tried to prevent our meeting." And she might've been tempted to arrest them anyway.

"We've got all the preliminary data here," Bartowski spoke up after a moment of tense silence. "Names, accounts, bases… Spencer kept a tight ship, uh, so to speak. He didn't actually have a ship unless you count his powerboat."

"Which we stole!" Caridad added with a wide grin.

The general looked at the Slayer with a deep frown, before turning to John again. "And you have verified his identity."

"Yes. The Intersect was used to corroborate the interrogation's results." He nodded. "We've got Fulcrum's head."

"And body. Uh, so to speak," Bartowski said. "Sorry! It's all on the stick. Sticks - in case you lose one. Not that you would, you know." He ducked his head.

The general wasn't amused. She shook her head. "That would conclude your primary mission, then, wouldn't it?" After a moment, she added: "And your employment, I suppose."

Ah. Put on the spot - but then, the general could be quite direct, if the situation didn't call for subtlety. John nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"You're going to work for the British."

"Technically, it's an international organisation with its headquarters in Britain," Bartowski piped up, "Uh, ma'am."

The general sent him a withering glare, which made the nerd flinch a little, but he held his ground.

With a scoff, the general turned back to John. "I wouldn't have expected this from you."

John didn't shrug. That would have been disrespectful. "I didn't expect it myself, but under the circumstances, it's the best course of action." He caught her glancing at Caridad, who hadn't been as discreet as she might've been, but refrained from adding that he had made his decision before starting a relationship with the Slayer.

The general was unlikely to believe him, anyway. Her eyebrows went up. "I see."

John caught Caridad's frown and glanced at her. She didn't take the hint and glared at the general. "You should be grateful that we solved your problem for you!"

"Three of our best spies, quitting? And the Intersect?" The general shook her head. "If that is not a problem, then what would be?"

"Four of your best spies," Walker said, with some heat in her voice and a glance at Bartowski, who smiled in obvious gratitude back at her.

Beckman looked like she had bitten into a lemon, lips pressed together, forming a thin line. "Four," she said.

"Yes!" Caridad said.

"And we're doing crucial work," Bartowski said. "You don't think that the government would put pressure on you if it weren't important, do you?"

John clenched his teeth when the general looked at him. Of course Beckman would expect exactly that - anyone in her position knew how things worked. But explaining that would be pointless. At least here - Walker could fill in Bartowski later. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. "Here's my resignation."

Walker and Bane followed suit. Bartowski cleared his throat. "And mine - although I'm available if you need some data analysis. With the Intersect. When I'm available, I mean - that might not always be the case. Also, we're going to take over my families' protection. With Fulcrum, gone, or gone soon, hopefully, things should calm down so we won't need spies as bodyguards."

Beckman's thin smile let John know that she thought Bartowski was being clever. But John knew better - the nerd wasn't thinking of the leverage having bodyguards protecting Ellie and Devon would grant the agency.

No need to tell that to the general, though. It was better if she thought him less naive than he was.

"Is there anything else?" the general asked.

"No, ma'am," John replied, a fraction of a second before everyone else chimed in.

Since he wasn't in uniform, he didn't salute before they left the safe house. And the Agency.