"Hmm, that guy's really in a hurry," Chuck remarked, noticing the van speeding rapidly past them on the other side of the road as Casey turned into the Buy More's parking lot, "Wonder what he's rushing off too?"
"No concern of ours, Bartowski," Casey grumbled, parking close to the front door, "We have some interrogations to take care of right now."
"Right, of course...evening, Mike," Chuck waved goodbye to Big Mike, who was exiting the store.
"Evening, Bartowski. Long job?" Big Mike inquired with raised eyebrows.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah, big, big complex repair job, but we, we got it done," Chuck rambled quickly.
"Well, try not to take so long next time. We get worried when you're out so late," Big Mike shot a glance towards Sarah, as if hinting he believed Chuck's occasional long absences from the store were of a more personal nature. "Well, good night; Grimes is waiting for you in there."
"Good, good, Mike; we wanted a word with Morgan before we left. Have a good night," Chuck waved goodbye to him and bustled into the store with the rest of his team. "Chuck, buddy, that took a bit longer than I thought," Morgan approached up the center aisle, "Is this big?"
"Could be, Morgan," Chuck watched from the door as Big Mike drove away for the night. The moment his car had disappeared from sight, Casey hefted a radio. "All clear; pull up to the rear loading docks so no one sees you," he signaled the CIA ambulance, which Chuck could see turning off the highway and heading for the rear of the store. "We've got maybe something big, Morgan," he told his best friend, leading him back towards the rear of the store, "They're doing something with the Intersect at the warehouse Bert tracked his wife to that..."
He cut off as another trapdoor into Castle that he'd walked over broke underneath him, sending him sliding with a loud scream down the chute into Castle. He landed with a thud on the hard concrete floor and groaned. "Got to ask the general to get these trapdoors fixed!" he muttered, stumbling back to his feet.
Footsteps thumped down an alternate set of stairs across the base. "OK, in here with you," the CIA medics forced the Shadow Squad agents into several of Castle's cells at gunpoint, then locked the doors. This was followed moments later by the rest of Chuck's team coming down the main stairs from the Buy More locker room. "...top it all off, Alex called halfway through the shootout," Casey mumbled to Morgan as they reached the bottom, "I love her dearly, and I'm glad we're back in contact with each other, but I wish she'd time these calls better."
"Well, be glad you are able to talk with her, Casey; I'll wager a lot of NSA dads don't get the chance to often, if at all," Morgan pointed out. Casey grunted in acknowledgment. "And speaking of Alex, Casey, again, thanks for covering for me the other week when I almost blew it with her," the Buy More manager commended him, "I know we aren't always on the right foot, but I appreciate what you do for me every now and then. Which reminds me: Alex did ask if we could go out on an actual date at some point in the near future, and if you approved, I was wondering if, afterwards..."
"You can go on a date in a public place with Alex, Grimes, but if you even think about getting into bed with her, I'll break you into little pieces and roast you like a chestnut over an open fire," Casey warned him, grabbing Morgan by the collar.
"Yeah, well, Casey, you really ought to save that for Christmas time; it would be a more appropriate way to murder me then," Morgan pointed out to him. Casey growled loudly, unamused, and tightened his grip on Morgan's collar. "Relax, you two, we have business to take of," Sarah reminded them sharply, prompting her partner to release Morgan. She walked briskly up to the cells the enemy agents were now incarcerated in. "All right, we want answers from all of you: what was exactly going on in that warehouse?" she firmly asked all of them.
"Why don't you come in here and ask me again, baby; I'd love for us to be face to face," one of the agents said lecherously, letting out a whistle at her. Fury burned across Sarah's face. "Why of course; why don't you come on up here?" she asked him, gesturing him towards the glass. The suspect eagerly-and rather stupidly-bustled towards the glass while she typed in the instructions to open the cell. The moment the door slid open, she kickboxed him hard right in the face with an angry roar, sending him tumbling backwards towards the back of the cell. "If there's one thing I hate, it's sexist pigs like you treating me as a sexual object!" she bellowed furiously at him, hauling him up over her head, then tossed him to the ground, "Now are you going to tell me what I and my team want to know!?"
"I'll talk, I'll talk!" cried one of the other agents from the adjoining cell, apparently freaked out into capitulation by a woman beating his cohort bloody.
"All right, good," Sarah re-locked the would-be lecher's cell and strode over to the cell next door, "What do you know?"
"The warehouse was a secret facility to build a new Intersect-a bigger and better Intersect," this agent rambled, "They were just about done with the final version..."
"Traitor!" another Shadow Squad member a few cells down shouted at him.
"Are you crazy, Merv!?" a second begged him, "We're all dead if he finds out somebody leaked...!"
"You'll be dead quicker if you don't leak," Casey warned this agent, pounding on the glass and thrusting a fist at him.
"OK, OK, I think we're letting the temperature get a little too hot in here," Chuck interceded, waving his arms. "Uh, Merv, I guess it is, what were your superiors planning on doing with this new improved Intersect?" he asked the willing to talk agent calmly.
"I don't know, only that they were making a newer version. It's on its way back to the home base in Washington now; my team and I were sent to finish clearing out everything in the warehouse they might have missed after they moved everyone."
"We're dead," a third agent groaned, "He'll find out, and he'll kill us..."
"Who's he?" Sarah grilled him.
"I don't know him personally, but he goes by the code name Hades, and he's Sedgefield's main enforcer. Sedgefield's had him leading the search for the original Intersect for a couple years now; when he couldn't find out where it went, Sedgefield decided to make a newer one."
"Did they take the scientists with the model to Washington?" Bert stepped forward to ask them.
"Sure did," Merv continued emptying his soul, "By now they're probably safely locked away in another secure facility in Washington to continue any follow-up research that might need to be done. They used the excuse that there'd been a security breach here in L.A. to get them to go."
"And what's the project got to do with Lieberstan? Because I recognized a few Lieberstani agents when I witnessed the warehouse being cleaned out earlier."
"Again, I don't know. All of us were just told to clean out the warehouse; we only know Sedgefield wanted a new Intersect, and that it was part of the overall mission."
"OK, that's good, thanks. We'll get you all into protective custody so Sedgefield and anyone working with him won't harm you," Sarah assured them. She bustled over to the table in the middle of the room. "OK, so now we have the general idea what they're doing, and where to look next," she told the rest of the team.
"We'll make arrangements to go to Washington after we call in to the general," Casey agreed.
"Right, sure, I'll have Mike take over while we take care of this..." Morgan started to say.
"Without you, Grimes," Casey growled, shaking his head, "This is a big boy mission."
"Oh come on, Casey, didn't I prove myself taking out your old team!?" Morgan protested.
"After you nearly botched it several times, moron..."
"Well I vote for Morgan to come along, Casey," Chuck spoke up for his friend. "Sarah?" he asked her. She thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, I think Morgan's earned the right, Casey," she told him. Casey growled, but nodded in resignation. "OK, but we do the important parts of the mission," he warned Morgan.
"Fair enough," Morgan agreed, pulling out several DVDs from the evidence bag, "Wonder what's on these that they had to..."
"Hang on, that's me..." Bert snatched one out of his hand. Chuck now noticed the name WRAYDON written on the side. "Maybe it's your wife..." he mused, taking the disc and inserting it into the nearest computer console. An image came on the screen apparently showing Bert standing next to a central Asian-looking man in military fatigues in what looked like a cave. ""I have all the information you need right here," he said, his words sounding stitched together from various sources to Chuck's ear. The Bert on screen handed papers to the foreigner. "Pass this information along to General Mountanski; he'll be pleased to have everything on how to make an Intersect at his disposal, and Lieberstan can get its revenge for the fall of the Soviet Union..."
"I...I didn't say that!" Bert had turned pale, "This is a fake video...!"
"I know; I can tell this has been faked," Chuck assured him, "Take a look," he pointed at Bert's face, "Your eyes and nose are much too big, and you're shaking a bit, like you're pixelating. And your dialogue sounded stitched. I might be able to get the original video back..."
He sat down at the console and typed in critical information. A line zoomed down the screen, erasing Bert's face and the supposed Lieberstani military man's entire body, revealing two of the suspects they had just arrested had actually been the ones having the apparent conversation. "Not bad, Chuck," an impressed Sarah patted him on the shoulder, "I guess everyone working in the warehouse was given one showing a family member or close associate selling out America. That way they could be convinced to leave and go underground willingly."
"Makes sense," Morgan agreed. "So, what about all this?" he held up several large metallic cubes that had been taken in as evidence, plus blueprints of what apparently the final design was supposed to be.
"Not sure, Morgan; I'm guessing all this was supposed to be put together and used in some way with the improved Intersect, but we're not quite sure how, and I wasn't able to flash on anything for some reason," Chuck explained with a frown, "So we'll still need more information on what they're doing here."
"Well before we do, I think it's time to bring the general up to speed," Sarah typed in the information on the main computer, bringing up General Beckman's image on the screen. "Have you made any progress, Agent Walker?" the general asked her.
"Yes we have, General. We captured several men at the warehouse, traced whatever's going on to former CIA director Hubert Sedgefield's Shadow Squad, and found evidence indicating work on a new and improved Intersect," Sarah gestured at the evidence on the table, "We have blueprints, components to be assembled into...something, and more."
"Thank you, Agent Walker. Unfortunately, however, I must now be the bearer of bad news for you all: the Department of Defense has requested a stand down order on any intelligence activity on this mission until further notice, on the grounds there may be an elevated national security risk from it," the general said grimly.
"What?" Sarah's expression dropped, "Can they legally do that!?"
"I'm afraid they can. I argued as hard as I could to keep your team on this, but I was overruled by numerous higher ranking officials," Beckman told her, "So regrettably, I must ask all of you to shelter in place for now until such time as we can get a new clearance approval."
"General, with all due respect, this is extremely irregular and unusual for a department to override another like this," Casey stepped forward, looking confused himself, "What exactly was the Secretary of Defense's concern about what's going on?"
"That is, I'm sorry to say, classified for now, Colonel Casey. Special forces units will handle the next part of this mission. I'll request you remain here at the console for the time being; if all goes well, I may be able to get you back on line in a few days. I'm terribly sorry for this in the meantime. Thank you for your efforts so far," Beckman disconnected the feed. "Something seem off to you?" a frowning Casey asked Sarah.
"Definitely," she frowned as well, "This is the first time I've ever heard of the Department of Defense requesting a stop order on any spy mission. Something isn't right here."
"So what, do you think somebody high in the government's trying to cover something up?" Chuck asked them.
"Or worse, do you think she's covering something up?" Morgan asked himself, gesturing at the screen.
"I sure hope not, Morgan. Let's see if we can take a glance at what might have set all this off..." Sarah started typing Project Inter-Ultima into the main computer. A buzzing sound rang out, however, as the words ACCESS DENIED flashed on the screen. "What is this!?" she demanded furiously, "There's no reason we shouldn't have access if this is a government project!"
"Maybe my NSA password'll do it..." Casey leaned past her and typed in his personal information. The same buzzing sound and ACCESS DENIED warning came up, however. "Damn it!" he raged, pounding the console in frustration, "What the hell are you doing to us, Beckman!?"
"How about me? If I'm not on the team, maybe my information'll get through," Bert approached the console and entered his own spy information. He too, however, was blocked as well. "Terrific!" he groaned, throwing up his hands in disgust, "I guess we are pretty much stuck here for now then! If this is blocked, there's no way we'll get the information...!"
"Wait a minute, wait a minute, yes we can," Chuck's face lit up, "I know exactly where we can go to find out more..."
"Wow, so this was here all this time, and you never knew about it?" an impressed Bert glanced around Chuck's father's former subterranean lair underneath the old Bartowski house forty-five minutes later.
"Not till a few months ago, no," Chuck admitted, "But I think we'll find out whatever we to about Project Inter-Ultima in here."
"So, uh, do you think it's all in alphabetical order," Morgan glanced worriedly down the long aisles of files.
"Well, we'll just have to check. Look for anything on Project Inter-Ultima, Hubert Sedgefield, or Shadow Squad," Chuck advised the team. He started opening drawers and sifting through the files his father had left behind. The others started doing the same. Finally, ten minutes later, on his fourth filing cabinet, Chuck paused at a set of papers near the rear of the top drawer. "Bingo," he exclaimed, pulling the papers out and held them up for everyone to see, "Project Inter-Ultima. Let's see what the whole story is."
He spread out the papers on the nearest table. The others gathered around for a closer look-neither they nor Chuck noticing a TV on the rear wall suddenly turn on, its screen hissing with electronic snow. "Take a look at this," Sarah pointed at a drawing of a large vertical rectangular box on the front most paper. She laid one of the blueprints taken from the warehouse next to it. The drawings matched perfectly. "The design's right, but what does it do?" she mused, squinting at the papers.
"Right here, it looks like," Chuck pulled out the third paper in the stack. Underneath the logo of the CIA, the paper read:
To all staff members:
After discussion with the National Security Advisor and Joint Chiefs of Staff, as well as top CIA officials, it is the decision of this board to attempt to build off the original Intersect design. As the initial download appears to be a preliminary success, the CIA and Department of Defense has asked if it is possible to move beyond downloading information into subject's minds and using the technology to increase their physical and mental prowess. We believe we have only tapped the surface of what the program could do, and that it could make the armed forces and intelligence services of the United States invincible.
The designers of the original Intersect will be paid well to continue their research into make this program, to be hence referred to as Inter-Ultima, possible. Money and resources will be diverted as needed for as long as it takes to bring the project to completion. They will also be automatically put into consideration for Nobel Prizes as an incentive to agree. The benefits besides the military and intelligence concepts could be immeasurable: Americans made stronger and more intelligent by the Intersects implanted into their brains.
The obvious hurdle to overcome: finding a way to merge the data in the Intersect with the cells in each subject's body and finding just the right code to maximize it without endangering the subjects' lives. With enough funding and time, however, it is believed this can be overcome, and a major leap forward in engineering and human evolution achieved.
Hubert Sedgefield
Director,
Central Intelligence Agency
Underneath all this, Chuck's father had written in large red letters, TOLD THEM ABSOLUTELY NOT TO GO THIS FAR. DID NOT WANT TO BE RESPONSIBLE FOR PLAYING GOD AND CREATING SUPERHUMAN RACE OF BEINGS, ESPECIALLY WITH CLEAR DANGER OF INTERSECT OVERHEATING AND DESTROYING ITS BEARER'S BRAIN. PERSEUS AND WINTERBOTTOM BACKED ME UP ON THIS; ZARNOW, SCORPIUS, AND ROARK SIDED WITH SEDGEFIELD. KNEW THEY'D GO AHEAD WITH IT IF THEY COULD, SO STOLE CIPHER TO BUY TIME AND KEEP THEM AT WHAT I WANTED THE INTERSECT TO BE. THEY STILL MIGHT TRY IT, HOWEVER, IF GIVEN CHANCE. Chuck whistled nervously. "Now I understand Dad's logic for leaving a bit more," he mumbled to the others, "If you'd been sucked into trying to make something that powerful, dangerous people would be after you and everyone you care for until they got what they wanted for sure."
"So do you suppose that's what's going on now? Sedgefield's trying to finish what they started and make the ultimate Intersect that turns you into a superman?" Morgan looked equally worried.
"I think so, Morgan," Sarah nodded worriedly, "They probably didn't have the technology to make it work before, but now they do. And they must be planning to mass produce this superior Intersect too-that must be what this is," she gestured at the blueprints again, "This must be a replicator that'll make infinite copies of it."
"In the wrong hands, that could be as disastrous as it gets," Casey mumbled grimly, "So we need to find out who else is still alive that worked on this-I am sorry, Bartowski..." he gave Chuck a sympathetic glance, "that would know exactly what's going on with this and how we might be able to stop it."
"Not going to be easy, Casey. Roark's dead, Dr. Busgang's dead, Scorpius-Dr. Austin Miegs-is dead, and unfortunately, Orion's gone now too," Sarah gave Chuck a sad glance of her own, "Dr. Zarnow, though, maybe we can get something out of him. He's in maximum security in Washington, isn't he?"
"Serving sixty years to life, yeah. So we might get something out of him," Casey agreed.
"How about this Winterbottom guy?" Bert pointed to the last name on the list, "You know anything about him?"
"No, haven't heard anything about him yet. So we'll have to ask around about him; he might know something critical," Chuck agreed. He glanced at Winterbottom's name on the document-and had a sudden hard flash. "You got something, buddy?" Morgan had noticed.
"Yeah, Morgan, but...I flashed on Alexei Volkoff," Chuck said, confused, "I don't know why..."
"Well he must have a connection somehow with this Winterbottom guy; maybe he kidnapped him and forced him to do his bidding," Morgan suggested.
"Maybe. In the meantime, let's look for more on Sedgefield and Lieberstan," Casey advised the others, "Get as much info down here as we can."
"Right," Chuck agreed. He and the others resumed sifting through filing cabinets for the relevant information. After going through three more cabinets, Chuck came across a file marked H.S. "Hubert Sedgefield?" he mused out loud, digging it out. Inside were photos of a rudimentary Intersect room, as well as several men in uniforms that Chuck assumed had been early test subjects. PRIVATE BUZZ FEITSHANS read one photo, and attached, a card reading DOA 6/23/97. At the bottom of this, Stephen Bartowski had written SUBJECT'S BRAIN COULDN'T HANDLE ADVANCE INTERSECT, AS HAD BEEN FEARED. RAPID ONSET DEMENTIA AND INSANITY FOLLOWED INSTALLATION UNTIL SUBJECT COMMITTED SUICIDE. The same was written next to the photos of a Corporal Richard Hubert and Private Matthew Barber, who were listed as having been died a few months after Feitshans. Behind these photos was a letter reading:
To Director Sedgefield:
I am writing this to announce my resignation from Project Inter-Ultima. No amount of carrots or sticks you offer will make me change my mind with this. As a scientist at heart, I am saddened that you are pursuing the course with my design that you clearly intend to. Hartley's fate, and your refusal to listen to my pleas to try and reverse the process on him before it was too late, was the final straw. I am taking my remaining research with me, and going where you and both the regular FBI and the personal army you appear to be starting to put together cannot find me. If you come after my family, however, I will strike back against you with everything at my disposal. Be warned that those who play God shall fall hard some day.
Kindest personal regards,
Stephen J. Bartowski
"I guess your dad reached the breaking point," Morgan, who had apparently been reading over Chuck's shoulder, remarked, "Can't blame him either; seeing test subjects go mad and die would drive anyone off a project like that."
"I'll bet the tests on these guys were unauthorized too," Chuck mumbled, gesturing at the dead soldiers, "And this Hartley he mentions...you think that might be the Winterbottom in his other note?"
"Maybe. Guys, you may want to take a look at this," Chuck called to the rest of the team, holding the files high.
"You'll want to take a look at this too, Chuck; your father found a lot on Lieberstan too," Sarah held up another set of files from a cabinet down the row. Chuck rushed over to look at them. He immediately flashed again on the top photo. "General Mountanski's got dozens of nuclear missiles in the mountains of Lieberstan, bought on the Russian black market," he breathed worriedly.
"I was afraid of that," Bert stared worriedly at the photo, "I had a gut feeling deep down they had a nuclear project under the table, and now this confirms it."
"The question is, how do they get them? We've sanctioned the hell out of Mountanski's government after we caught him funding terrorists; there's no way he should be able to keep a nuclear program going," Casey growled, glaring at the nuclear launch sites on the photos.
"Well Lieberstan is a former Soviet republic after all, Casey; they probably stashed everything they had in hiding places after the Soviet Union fell. And nuclear weapons aren't the only thing we have to worry about," Sarah dug out another file, "Nerve gas and chemical weapons being stockpiled are around the country too. I think that explains your transfer," she turned to Bert, "Someone knew you'd stumble onto whatever's going on there, so they transferred you out to keep it in the dark."
"And that means your wife's in deep with something big," Casey added with a shake of his head.
"I'm sorry, all of you, but I could never believe Gretchen would betray America, especially for someone like Leonid Mountanski," Bert protested, "She's as much a true American patriot as anyone..."
"Want to bet?" Morgan gestured at Casey.
"Well, Bert, from those tapes we saw earlier, I'm pretty sure that Sedgefield, or whoever else is behind this, tricked Gretchen and the rest of her scientific team," Chuck offered him solace, "She probably had no idea she was being used for a darker purpose."
"Well then, we've got to get her out of this, quick. This could be the beginning of World War III if Mountanski uses all this," Bert stared worriedly at the photos.
"Not just Mountanski," Morgan reached deeper back into the drawer and extracted a file labeled VOLKOFF INDUSTRIES that Chuck hadn't noticed until now. "Let me see that," he took the file off his friend, and quickly flashed again. "Volkoff Industries is Mountanski's government's primary supplier of military hardware and weaponry," he related, "General Mountanski's got a pipeline straight to Alexei Volkoff for most of his supplies."
"OK, great, that's two birds we can kill with one stone," Casey nodded firmly, taking the file and examining it himself. "OK, good work, everyone; we learned a lot down here. Let's call it a night for now, and sleep on how we're going to get to Washington without Beckman noticing we're gone."
"We'll come up with something, Casey," Chuck assured him, wondering exactly how they could make it work, especially with the Buy More now a CIA substation now filled with agents who could report to General Beckman in a flash. He approached Bert. So, do you have a place to spend the night?" he asked the spy.
"No, to be honest. I was so worked up with the thought Gretchen might have been cheating on me and confronting her on it that I never checked in anywhere," Bert admitted, "Do you know a good hotel?"
"Actually, I have a better idea. Come with me; my sister'll be glad to have you over-although, you'll have to keep quiet about who you are and what we're doing," Chuck warned him, "I expressly promised her a few months ago that I was giving up the spy game for good; she doesn't know I've still been doing side projects like this..."
"Hey, a spy knows how to keep secrets," Bert grinned, making a zipping motion across his lips.
"Good, good," Chuck nodded. It was only then that he noticed the television was turned on nearby. "How did this go on?" he wondered out loud, then shrugged. "Must have triggered something somewhere," he reasoned, walking over and turning it off, "Who knows what's all running in here?"
"What are you up to now?" a shadowy figure stuck his head through a doorway, his gaze locked in on another shadowy figure seated in a high chair behind a console.
"Just checking on something that looks to be very important," the seated figure said, typing in a few more buttons to bring the lair back up.
"I thought you were...?"
"Roy, I just had a feeling something was going on in California from everything we'd heard around the grapevine here lately," the seated figure said without turning around, "And it looks like my suspicions were correct from what I'm seeing now."
"So what are we supposed to do about it?"
"What we can do, Roy, is stay alert, because from what I'm seeing now, I'm pretty sure the action's going to be coming our way very soon. And when it does, and Chuck Bartowski arrives, let's be sure to give him a warm welcome here no matter what your personal philosophy might be..."