"And you're absolutely sure it's Chuck Bartowski, Forrest?" came the voice on her cellphone as her car raced through the streets of Washington.
"I know it for a fact, 'Hades;' I was assigned briefly to work with him two years ago," Forrest said calmly, "If I'd joined this organization sooner and been stationed closer to you, I could have told you directly, especially since..."
"Yeah, I know," Hades grumbled, "I'm not surprised it was Bartowski in the end; looking back now, he seems the most obvious fit. He was right there in front of me, and I never brought him in when I had the chance. Where's he now?"
"We lost him somewhere in the cemetery and had to bail out; somebody set off fireworks, and the guards came running up before we could look for him. But I wouldn't worry about it; he and his team'll come back to us eventually."
"Good, because I want him alive for now at least. We have to get the Intersect out of his head for my plan to fully work," Hades said with grim determination, "Which brings up point two: are you ready for what we have to do next?"
"Of course I am," Forrest pulled out a large pistol and started loading it up with bullets, "I find your philosophy preferable anyway regardless of what the overall cost is."
"Good for you, Forrest. You've earned yourself a high position in Shadow Squad. Meet you at Sedgefield's lair after I set one more thing into motion..."
"Do you see anything, anything at all!?" a very worried Sarah half-shouted to Morgan, Casey, and Bert, weaving her flashlight around the tombstones.
"No," Morgan admitted, groaning and rubbing his still aching head, "But that doesn't necessarily mean anything bad happened, Sarah..."
"You had one simple job to do, Grimes, to get Bartowski to safety, and you couldn't even do that!" Casey thundered at him, "Sometimes I wonder why we trust you with anything...!"
"Come on, Casey, give me a break! This is Daniel Shaw we're talking about here; he came up out of nowhere and knocked me out before I could do anything! I never really had a chance!" Morgan shouted back at him.
"And you're absolutely sure it really was Shaw and not some hallucination!?"
"It was," Bert said grimly, hanging up his cell phone, "Just called Richard; word came through that Shaw escaped custody earlier this morning Pretty high body count too. I take it you guys have some bad history with him?"
"I killed his wife," Sarah admitted, tearing up, "It was my red test; I had no clue who she was then. When Shaw found out after he'd been assigned to our team, he completely snapped. He would have killed me if Chuck hadn't shown up in the nick of time and shot him. We thought he was dead, but then he came back. He tried to discredit us, then he killed Chuck's father in cold blood..." she put her face in her hands, "I feel responsible for it. He pulled up after we escaped the Ring facility we'd been taken to and tried to convince Chuck to go with him. I tried to convince him to stay. Maybe if I hadn't, if I'd gone with them, he would have had no reason to turn back, and he'd still be alive now. And if Shaw is back again, and he got to Chuck..."
She started sniffing in fear. "It's not your fault, Walker," Casey assured her, "Bartowski's father went into the Ring's facility with him of his own free accord. And if Shaw is here, we'll get him..."
"But we told Morgan to get Chuck to safety; instead we sent him right into the lion's jaws...CHUCK!" she screamed for him, her voice echoing through the night air. There was only silence. "He's got to be somewhere, Sarah," Morgan offered his own comfort, "As long as we don't see any blood, he's probably alive...hey, I think this is Jim Henson's brother," he exclaimed, aiming his flashlight at one nearby tombstone, "I'd heard he was in here..."
"Focus, Grimes!" a very irritated Casey whacked him hard on the shoulder, "Our job is finding Bartowski. He can't just have dropped off the face of the earth in here, Shaw or no Shaw...!"
"Charles? Charles are you all right?"
Chuck slowly drifted back into consciousness. The figure standing above him was blurry, but its voice sounded familiar. Then he remembered the last thing he'd seen before he'd passed out-but it couldn't be possible...could it...?
"Charles, can you hear me, son?" came his father's voice again. Chuck vision cleared more, showing it was apparently indeed Stephen J. Bartowski standing over him, as far as he could tell. "Is everything OK, Charles?" his father asked him. Chuck responded by immediately fainting dead away a second time.
When he came to again, he was seated on a more comfortable couch in another room. "OK, please don't faint this time, Charles," his father begged him, slowly coming into focus as Chuck woke up again, "It's getting a bit repetitive reviving you over and over again..."
Chuck let out a shrill scream and lurched backwards off the couch. "I'm dead! I've got to be dead and in heaven; this can't be happening...!" he mumbled out loud, pinching himself.
"You're alive son, trust me," Stephen told him calmly.
"No, no, no, I have to be dead! Shaw probably shot me, those guys were angels, this is heaven...!"
"Charles," his father hefted a knife from the nearest table and flung it towards him. In a flash, Chuck's reflexes took over, and he grabbed it in midair. "I don't think you'd be able to do that if you were dead, because dead people don't have Intersects in their heads," Stephen pointed out to him.
"Oh my god..." stunned, Chuck dropped the knife to the floor, stumbled over to Stephen, and pressed a hand against his forehead. It indeed felt warm and normal. "So, I'm not dead...and you're not dead...?" he asked hesitantly.
"I almost was, son-really, really close to being dead, in fact-but I made it through," Stephen admitted.
"Dad..." tears of joy started streaming down Chuck's face as the full realization hit him. With a happy sob he pulled his father into a grateful hug. "I'm so sorry, Dad," he mumbled through his tears, "If I hadn't made you turn around and go back..."
"Don't blame yourself, Charles, please," Stephen pulled back to look his son in the eye, "The only one who has any blame for what happened was Shaw for wanting revenge on you for what went down between the two of you in Paris at any cost. It was his fault alone, not yours."
"Well, I guess, if you say...but how!?" Chuck asked him, still stunned, "How in god's name did you survive being shot point blank in the chest!? You were as good as dead when Shaw's Ring goons dragged me away...!"
"As I've said before, Charles, I've faked my death lots of times over the years. In this case, when we stopped on the way back to the Ring base so you could take that emergency bathroom break at the gas station, I slipped this on," Stephen reached underneath a table and pulled out a bulletproof vest with a large hole in the center from Shaw's bullet. Chuck shuddered at the memory of the horrifying moment, even if hadn't been as fatal as he'd thought. "Didn't work as well as I'd hoped, though," Stephen confessed, staring at the vest, "Shaw must have loaded up with high caliber bullets; it still got through the vest-the blood you saw was real-and I really was dying there when they took you away."
"Then, how...?"
"I have friends, Charles. Lots of friends. They've helped me move around over the years. I signaled them I was in trouble. Well, first, after you were gone, Ellie ran up to check on me. She must have snuck in and watched everything go down. I wanted her to get out of there before anything happened to her, so I played dead so she'd leave. Once she ran out in tears, I waited until I was alone, then signaled an SOS with this," he picked up a device from the table that looked like an oversized cigarette lighter. "This sent an emergency message to them to come immediately. And they did, dressed as medics. They talked their way in by telling the Ring agents they were going to dispose of my body. They reached me just in the nick of time; five more minutes, and I would be dead now for real. I had enough strength left to tell them to get some of the cell regeneration technology we found in the lab. They did and used it to stabilize me until they got me out. They got me to professional doctors; I was in a medically induced coma for several days, and they've told me they thought I was a goner anyway. Fortunately, they'd gotten a supply of Dr. Kowambe's cell regeneration equipment too, and eventually they were able to bring me all the way back."
"Uh...OK, yeah, I guess that makes sense," Chuck nodded, "Or at least as much sense when it comes to talking face to face with someone who by all accounts should be dead right now. And thank God then Shaw didn't aim for your head..."
"Yeah, I doubt anything could have brought me back from that," Stephen admitted. "And I guess I was close enough to death to trigger my message to you. Which reminds me, have you made any progress with what I asked you in it?"
"Yeah, actually, some progress, Dad. But not what I wanted to know," Chuck shifted about uncomfortably, "Mom...she may be...it's possible she may be a really dark person now, working for Alexei Volkoff..."
"Actually, it's Hartley Winterbottom, Charles. That's also what I..." Stephen cut off at the sound of a cane clopping on the floor behind them. "Is he feeling better now?" a white-haired elderly man leaning on a cane asked, examining Chuck. Chuck flashed on him. "Roy Wells, former CIA director during the later stages of the Cold War," he rambled out in surprise, "You haven't been seen in twenty-five years..."
"I'd had enough of the world, Charles," Wells told him grimly, "I oversaw a CIA that was getting way too brutal with American enemies despite my sending out repeated warnings for them not too. I wanted no part of it any more. So I resigned and retreated to here."
"And where's here?"
"Welcome, Charles Bartowski, to Spy's Haven," Wells said grandly, waving his arms around at the stone walls of Stephen's room, "Or at least that's what we informally refer to it as. A place of respite, whether temporarily or permanently, for spies who are burned out or jaded with the world and need to find peace. Your father's been here a few times over the years before now when he was on the run from Hubert Sedgefield's men and the government in general."
"I see, Chuck walked out the door. His father's room overlooked a great underground hall with an old chandelier hanging from the ceiling and a large table in the center of the room. "Wow, it's...so this is basically the spy version of The World Below," he mused with a grin. "My mother was a huge fan of the old Beauty and Beast TV series when I was young," he told Wells, "Was that your inspiration for this?"
"Not at first, no, but I couldn't help noticing the parallels once that show did air," Wells nodded, "I discovered this all quite by accident; I was walking through the cemetery above us one rainy day, disgusted that higher-ups had overruled me on trying to stop advanced interrogating of foreign prisoners; the cruelty and blatant racism some of them showed just crushed me soul. I'd told them I was resigning, but I had no idea what I was going to do next, only that I wanted to get off the planet, as humanity made me sick. Suddenly the ground gave way, and I fell into one of these tunnels. They must have been built under Arlington during World War II for some long lost defense purpose. But they were quiet and peaceful, and I knew very quickly that's where I wanted to live, away from the world. For the first five years or so, I was mostly alone, but then I realized, it could be a place of solace for burned out and jaded spies who could need a place like that. I sent out a secret message to a high-ranking CIA member of the time that had known me that I was extending an invitation to any spy in good standing that wanted to come. And they've come since."
"Really?" Chuck scanned the numerous men and women milling in the hall below, "All this under Arlington National Cemetery, and no one else knows about it-how big is this place, and how many former spies live here?"
"The tunnels stretch as far as the Potomac from here. Currently we have about seventy permanent residents, including your father," Wells nodded towards Stephen, "Some spies drift in and out for short periods, just enough time to get their bearings for another mission. Of course, I have them and the permanent residents solemnly swear to keep the location and existence of Spy's Haven a classified secret..."
"How do you possibly keep a place like this secret?"
"Plausible deniability for one; who would believe a place like this would exist in the first place?" Wells raised his eyebrows, "We have strong defenses regardless: miniature cameras affixed to select graves above, laser-protected corridors, eye and handprint recognition stations, passwords; only the spies who want to be here will get in here."
"Defenses..." Chuck's memory clicked back to another notable moment of last night. "Dad, Mr. Wells, Shaw was back last night; he tried to kill me again..."
"Yeah, we saw, Charles," Stephen told him, "We saw everything that went down once the secret metal detectors we have attached to some of the trees alerted us that there were armed people in the cemetery. I requested Roy here set off the fireworks you saw to distract them and alert the regular cemetery guards, and when we saw Shaw was waiting for you, I had him send up some residents to give you a hand when it was clear Shaw was going to play dirty."
"Thanks. And where's Shaw now? If he finds he was in here..."
"Mr. Shaw won't be a problem. We used another of your father's inventions, one that suppresses the Intersect for people that have it inside them, on him," Wells explained, "Then we carried him out and dumped him on the other side of the Potomac. If we were to come back, he won't be able to do anything on you that would be Intersect-driven. In the meantime, my friend, you must be quite hungry by now, so allow you offer you a meal."
"Yeah, I'd appreciate that," Chuck agreed, "Oh, and the rest of my team's probably looking for me up there, so if you'd be able to bring them down-I think they can be trusted to not say anything afterwards..."
"Well, I suppose we can allow that this once," Wells agreed. "Nick," he pulled a nearby man close, "The members of Stephen's son's team are looking for him above. Bring them down here if you will, and please treat them with courtesy and respect."
"I will, Roy," Nick nodded and rushed off. "Come, follow me, Charles," Wells led him and his father down a nearby staircase to the lower level, "We'll get a grand meal for you here."
"So what's on the menu? Do you guys scrounge around for every bit of food you can, or do you...?" Chuck came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, and burst into laughter. For a full service Subway counter, complete with glowing neon sign, stood against the wall. "Oh we're not that primitive down here," Wells laughed, "I make sure everyone that joins us eats well. Go ahead, place your order; it's free."
"OK then," Chuck approached the counter, "Um...six inch meatball marinara with provolone cheese and oregano, toasted, with chips and a diet Coke," he told the cook.
"Coming right up," the cook nodded. Chuck turned and walked to the nearest table, where Wells and his father had sat down at. "Anywhere else we can order from in here?" he half-joked.
"We do have a McDonald's and Kentucky Fried Chicken at the other ends of the complex, and we've been considering putting in a Taco Bell soon," Wells said, "So, Bryce Larkin sent you the Intersect, did he?"
"Uh, yeah. Long story short, he thought I'd be the best person for it, Mr. Wells. And speaking of Bryce..." Chuck shot a glance towards his father again, "Is he here too, you know...?"
"Unfortunately not," Wells shook his head, "We were unable to get to Bryce quickly enough after he was shot, so I'm afraid he is dead for good now."
"Oh. Well, for the longest time, I would have been glad to have heard that, but now, I think I understand Bryce more now, and I'm sorry he is truly gone," Chuck confessed.
"To be honest, you don't know how lucky your father really was," Wells said grimly, "We'd covertly purchased a large amount of Dr. Martin Kowambe's cell regeneration technology for the residents of Spy's Haven over the years after we found out on the spy grapevine he was making it-I figured that if he was, it might as well be put to actual good use for the right reasons-but we'd started running low by the time he was brought back here on the verge of death. And a combination of most of the remaining global supply being bought up by some mystery buyer a few months before that, and Dr. Kowambe's arrest cutting off the supply left us with little to work with. We were just able to scrape together enough of the technology to bring your father back."
"And believe me, Mr. Wells, I'm very grateful you did," Chuck commended him. He glanced around at some of the people milling about the great hall, shuddering as he flashed on all of them. "Al Hubbell, top U.S. assassin for five years straight," he pointed at one conversing in the corner with another man, "And Fred Mitchell, long time top agent in the Middle East. Officially reported as dead..."
"When someone decides to come here permanently, we arrange it so they're officially declared dead. That way no one can come looking for them," Wells explained, leaning on his cane, "In Al and Fred's case, they'd grown tired of killing and needed a place to find inner peace."
"Do you have standards for everyone that wants to come live here?"
"I do have rules about potential residents. They must be men and women of honorable standing in the intelligence community-no wanton killings or war crimes on their record. They must be willing, during their time here, to cut all ties to the outside world and all those the know and love, if they have any left, and must swear an oath to keep Spy's Haven a secret."
"Your meal, Mr. Bartowski," the cook brought out his Subway meal, "You also get a free cookie on the house."
"Great, great, uh...white macadamia nut," Chuck told him. The cook nodded and walked off to get it. "So, Charles, I take it you are still in the spy game?" Stephen turned to his son as he started eating his sandwich.
"I am, Dad. I know it's not what you really wanted of me..."
"Maybe not, but if you really want to do it, who am I to stand in your way?" his father reasoned. "The governor holding up OK for you?" he glanced at his most recent creation on his son's wrist.
"So far, yeah; no, no mental problems with the Intersect at all since I was able to get it back from Shaw. If you're able to fix my wrist communicator, though, Shaw broke it during our fight tonight before we met up," he held up his wrist.
"No problem there; I can probably have it as good as new in an hour or so," Stephen vowed. "How's Eleanor doing? Hopefully she's not scarred by what she thought she witnessed..."
"I think she always will be as long as she thinks you are dead, Dad, but other that, in fact, she's pregnant. She and Awe-Devon are expecting a girl in a few months," Chuck told him with pride.
"Well, that is great news," Stephen beamed, "I just know she'll make a great mother."
"Yeah. And so," Chuck leaned towards him, "Now that I know you're not really...it might be a bit of a shock, but, if you could make it when the time comes..."
"While I'd love to, Charles, it would probably be for the better if she and the rest of the world thinks I am dead," Stephen shook his head, "I can't put her in any more danger, especially if she is going to be a mother."
"But Dad, it would mean so much to her...wouldn't it mean the world to you to hold your grandchild..."
"Of course it would, but not if it meant the government and enemy agents would then be after that child from the day it was born. I lived in fear they'd come for you and Ellie before I left, and I don't want another generation to have to live through it."
"Please just think about it, OK, for us!?" Chuck begged him, "Also, I want to marry Sarah. I love her, and she loves me," he dug out the ring he'd bought and held it up, "I'm just waiting for the right time and place. And it would also mean the world to me, if she said yes, for you to be there, even if disguised. Sarah's father, he's a con artist who rarely sticks around. I have photos of the man; we can probably dress you up as him and walk her down the aisle. Please at least think it over..."
"Well...I'll give it some thought, Charles," Stephen gave a soft nod, "Keep in mind though, I want you and your sister and your families safe more than anything. I may not have been the best or most active father, but that didn't mean I didn't love or care for the two of you. And if anything horrible dead happen to either of you, I could never lived with myself."
He let out a low sigh, one tinged with clear regret at not being able to have been a more active father for his children. "So, anyway, on more present matters, you did find more leads on your mother?" he switched the subject.
"A few, yeah, but like I said, they seem to be leading to an uncomfortable place with Alexei Volkoff," Chuck said again with a shudder, "I really hope...I really hope she's not gone."
"I would hope not either. I was still in charge of the CIA when your mother joined up," Wells told Chuck, "Mary was one of the most promising agents I'd seen. So if anyone could pull off the mission she's been on without breaking or being sucked in, it's her-I hope..."
"Uh, mission?" Chuck frowned.
"Let me tell you a little bedtime story like the ones she used to tell you, Charles," Stephen leaned closer to his son, "You were probably going to hear it eventually in some form from somebody in the future, might as well be from me. Let me tell you about a former British scientist named Hartley Winterbottom, who was once a very good friend of mine..."
"Winterbottom...that was the name on the file we found joining you in objecting to Hubert Sedgefield wanting to use expand the Intersect to make people physical gods," Chuck remembered.
"I know; I happened to check the feed in the lair, as I do routinely since I came here, and watched you and your team go over that information," his father said, "But yes, Hartley at the time didn't want to see the Intersect used like that, the same as I didn't. If only he could have stayed that way..."
"So, what happened?"
Stephen took a long, deep breath. "Hartley was assigned to go undercover, and he asked me to let him use the early version of the Intersect to help with his cover: a cold, ruthless, violent international arms dealer named Alexei Volkoff," he explained to his son, "Like you, he was strongly against guns, and we both knew that if he was going to be an arms dealer, that would be a liability for him. The Intersect we put into him was only supposed to temporarily suppress his memory, just long enough to get the mission done. Instead...it overtook every part of his mind, destroyed everything he remembered about himself. So before long, he genuinely believed he really was Alexei Volkoff, vicious international arms dealer. And that's who he's been for all this time since. He's built a major criminal empire through Volkoff Industries, and likely remembers nothing about who he really is."
"That's...that's terrible," Chuck frowned, "Didn't you try and stop it?"
"I did everything I had the power to do, son. When I realized what was happening to Hartley, I went to Hubert Sedgefield and begged him to recall him back so I could try and get the Intersect out of him before it was too late. Sedgefield brushed off my concerns, telling me Hartley would be just fine. All these years later, I can't help wondering if Sedgefield had secretly accessed the original Intersect through an insider on the team and made secret 'improvements' to it that backfired when it was put into Hartley's head. As if he was using Hartley as a test subject in some diseased final experiment that a real scientist would never sign off on. Anyway, he's been on a reign of terror since then, and the government's buried all information on Hartley's old life to avoid the scandal that creating a monster would have caused. That's why you're only hearing all this now from me."
He shook his head. "But I never gave up trying," he declared, "And the honest truth, son," he turned back to Chuck, "Your mother left because she and I made a secret agreement that we'd undo the damage somehow. We arranged for her to go deep undercover in Volkoff Industries, get as close to Hartley as possible, and see if she could find some way to get him back to normal. So deep that I lost contact with her years ago, and have to hope she's close to a cure by now."
"Only she may have gotten in so deep that she's forgotten who she is now too," Chuck gulped, "To be honest, Dad, she called me the other week and told me she wanted to meet me in Griffith Park. Sarah and I waited there for hours, though, and she never showed. So I don't know, maybe she got recalled at the last minute to do something awful, maybe? Our evidence suggests Volkoff Industries is selling heavy weaponry to Lieberstan for whatever General Mountanski's plotting; maybe she got sent to oversee that..."
"Right in here," came Nick's voice from the edge of the great hall. "Chuck!" a very worried Sarah ran into the hall, relieved, "Chuck, are you all right!? I thought..." she suddenly came to a screeching halt and clapped mouth hands over her mouth in shock. "Oh my god! Mr. Bartowski, you're not...!?"
"Almost was, Miss Walker, but thankfully not," Stephen assured her.
"Oh my god, Mr. B!?" an equally stunned Morgan stumbled up and stared right at Stephen. Even the normally unflappable Casey looked wide eyed to see an apparent dead man sitting next to Chuck, alive and well. "Care to explain why he's sitting here alive, Bartowski!?" the latter asked Chuck incredulously.
"It's a long story, Casey, but I'll give to you eventually," Chuck promised him, "Dad, you know Sarah and Casey already, and of course you know Morgan..."
"Hey, a Subway, amazing!" Morgan had noticed it. He ran to the counter. "I'll have a six inch buffalo chicken sandwich with hot sauce, lettuce, and tomatoes..."
Stephen chuckled softly. "Same old Morgan," he mused out loud. "Good to see you all again," he greeted the rest of Chuck's teammates, who also sat down at the table.
"Believe me, Mr. Bartowski, it's really wonderful to see you again, after what we thought we'd heard happened," Sarah told him, starting to regain her composure from the shock.
"Wonderful to see you too, Miss Walker. Chuck told me you and he have started to have some pretty deep feelings in the last few months..."
"Well, he is an easy man to like when you get to know him," she blushed, embarrassed.
"That I know, Miss Walker. And who else do we have here?" Stephen glanced at Bert, standing behind the others.
"Dad, this is Bert Wraydon; it was through him that we ended up on our current mission. We're trying to get his wife out of Hubert Sedgefield's hands too. Bert, my father Stephen Bartowski; he in fact created the Intersect," Chuck introduced them to each other.
"Well, the really cool parts, at least. Nice to meet you, Bert Wraydon," Stephen shook the spy's hand, "And I'd like all of you to meet Roy Wells, the leader of Spy's Haven," he in turn introduced his friend.
"So you're Roy Wells, and this is Spy's Haven?" Casey glanced around the hall, "I've heard rumors about this place, but I never thought it was actually real..."
"It certainly is real, Alex Coburn," Wells assured him.
"I go by John Casey now..."
"I know. I still observe the spy game from time to time, and I know all the players in it, and who they were. Have you ever thought about reconnecting with your family, Alex?"
"He's already met his daughter again," Morgan approached the table, clutching his sandwich, a chips bag, and a soda, "I've been trying to ask him to get back in touch with his wife..."
"It's for the better, Grimes, she has her own life now," Casey shook his head, looking a little regretful to Chuck's eyes.
"Well, it's clear all of you have some catching up with each other to do, so I'll let you do that," Wells heaved himself up on his cane, "I'll be in my chambers, Stephen, if you need anything," he told Chuck's father, hobbling off.
"Take care, Roy," Stephen wished him well. "So, anyway, tell me about your mission," he told Chuck and his team with interest, "I got caught up on a little bit of it when I looked in on you in my old base yesterday; tell me the rest."
"Well," Chuck took a deep breath and told his father everything he'd learned from the moment Bert had stumbled into the Buy More till he'd been brought to Spy's Haven. "And so we think we're onto something really big and possibly really dangerous," he concluded, "So if you are able to help, Dad, it would be big."
"Maybe I can. Show me those Intersect designs you found at the warehouse, if you still have them," Stephen inquired.
"We have them right here, Mr. Bartowski," Sarah dug them out of her purse and handed it to them. Stephen spread them out and stared hard at them. "Oh boy..." he mumbled worriedly.
"Uh, I guess this a really bad 'oh boy,' Dad?" Chuck asked, not liking the sound of it.
"If Sedgefield is behind this like you think he is, he's making alterations to the Intersect's function and design that I would never have approved of," Stephen mumbled grimly, "It was also never supposed to be replicated like this either. Mass production can only mean one thing: it's going to go into an army, either professional or private."
Chuck gulped worriedly. "An army of super soldiers..." he mused.
"All with heightened physical and mental attributes. I never designed it to do anything like this, and I'd have requested the firing of anyone who did," Stephen insisted, "Thing is, though," he squinted at the drawings again, "They are based off the original design I worked on, and as far as I know, no real outsiders were brought into the project from conception to completion other than my team. So he had inside help from someone on the team."
"Would have to be Jonas Zarnow; he's the only other one left alive," Sarah hypothesized. "Exactly how much work did he do directly on the initial Intersect project?" she asked Stephen.
"Jonas? He was the lazy one. The rest of us did the real work; he just hung around the periphery doing odd jobs," Stephen scoffed, "Liked to inflate his participation on the project afterwards, though, practically claiming it was all his idea in the first place."
"But that did mean he had access to all the original records and files?" Casey pressed.
"Of course he did. So I think you're probably on the right track with him. Problem is, as I understand it, he's been serving hard time since right after Charles here got the Intersect for the first time," Stephen pointed at his son.
"Sixty years to life for attempted murder, kidnapping, and terrorist threats," Sarah confirmed it for him with a small shudder at the thought of the torture Zarnow had intended for her, Chuck thought. "You know, this all makes sense now, though, Mr. Bartowski; if Zarnow was in fact working for Sedgefield before that to try and make an ultimate Intersect, it would make perfect sense for him to want to bring the original Intersect back to him at any cost, like he tried to do shortly after we started working with Chuck. And maybe he's still been working on it in prison, and Sedgefield has a mole inside passing Zarnow's research back to Sedgefield..."
"Which brings up another thing: Sedgefield might not be the all-powerful mastermind here," Stephen pointed out with a frown, "During my last days on the project before I resigned and took the Cipher with me to keep him from making an ultimate Intersect, there were a couple notable members of his organization who were egging him to go on even further with it, in ways so scary I can't tell you out loud here. So it's possible Zarnow might actually be working for one of them and might be double-crossing Sedgefield."
"A possible inside coup, lovely," Casey mumbled, "Well, there's one way to find out: first chance we get, we visit Dr. Zarnow in jail and get all the information we need out of the not-so-good doc. And then bust some heads."
"Actually, if we're doing that, Casey, there's someone else I'd like us to interview," Chuck said with a frown.
"Who!?"
"Dr. Kowambe. Before you guys came in, Mr. Wells told me that somebody bought a lot of his cell regeneration technology on the black market. Now maybe that's just a coincidence, but I can't help wondering if somehow that's connected to all this. And maybe Dr. Kowambe would also know something critical about this if so. So since I heard he's locked up in the same facility as Dr. Zarnow..."
"We may not have time, Bartowski..." Casey shook his head firmly.
"Casey, if this is as serious as it sounds, I think every lead is worth following," Chuck emphasized.
"I have to agree with Chuck, Casey; best to follow everything we can," Sarah agreed.
"Oh all right," Casey conceded, "As long as we make it quick."
"And keep me informed, please," Stephen asked them, "Since it's my creation that's being used here, I think it's fair to say I have a stake in this."
"I think we can have you on radio headset, Dad; you can hear what we say when we interview the suspects," Chuck turned to his teammates, who nodded.
"I thought so; if not, I can jerry-rig something that'll work. Well, I guess you all can stay in my room here for the night," Stephen rose back to his feet, "But just so you know, I am a regular snorer..."
"Oh terrific," Casey muttered, also getting back up, "I can tell this is going to be a great night...!"