A/N: Ownership of Chuck. Still pertinent.
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Chuck wasn't at all surprised that he had to leave Miami Beach and head across the Julia Tuttle Causeway to the city of Miami proper to accomplish his errand. As it was, he considered himself lucky to have found the specialty store at all.
It was another beautiful day in Miami Beach. The sun was shining and the weather was in the low 80's, expected to climb into the mid-eighties as the afternoon progressed. Team B, with the addition of Roan, had run on the beach in the cool of the early morning and Chuck's legs still felt it. Running on sand was a new experience for him and quite the challenge. Roan had done some training years ago in Coronado with the U.S. Navy SEALS and had some hilarious advice to share about exercising in sand.
While Chuck did his errand, the rest of the team had decided to take some time at the pool. Chuck had checked the hotel's booking system and Banacheck's party wasn't due to arrive until mid-afternoon. If they were going to wait, waiting in the sunshine was a pleasant choice.
Chuck was glad it had been a quick trip to the city and now he was back at the hotel in time for lunch with Sarah and his friends.
His cab pulled up in the circular driveway of the Fontainebleau Hotel, the famous crescent shaped beachside establishment. As he was paying the driver he noticed a Ferrari pull up to the steps and a handsome dark-haired man get out. While Chuck exited his cab with his messenger bag, Bryce Larkin took a single bag from the back of the sports car and dealt with the parking valet.
Chuck called, "Hey."
Bryce looked around and smiled with happiness when he saw Chuck. "Hey, yourself."
When Chuck got to him the two men exchanged a quick hug. Chuck said, "You're looking better than the last time I saw you."
"Yeah. Hospital gowns don't really bring out the color of my eyes," he said.
"Muddy blue? I didn't even know that was a color," said Chuck, as they climbed the few steps and opened the door to enter the hotel's large lobby.
"Sapphire, Chuck," said Bryce with a cocky grin. "Brilliant sapphire...oh, wait. Is it 'Chuck'?"
"Yeah. Chuck Carmichael. You?"
"Peter Anderson," he said.
"Good to meet you, Mr. Anderson," said Chuck. "Check in later. Come with me for lunch with the team first."
"Cool. Where?"
"At the outdoor restaurant, past the pool. I talked to them from the cab. Give your bag to the bell desk to hold for a while."
While Bryce was dropping his bag, Chuck sent Sarah a text to ask the team to pull up another chair to the table for Bryce.
The entrance to the pool area involved a circuitous route past multiple hotel shops and restaurants. As they were walking Bryce said, "I love the smell of this hotel's lobby. I don't know why, I just like it."
Chuck laughed lightly and said, "How can you smell anything over that cologne you're wearing?"
"Oh, that's what this is going to be like, huh?"
"You keep giving me softballs like that, you have to expect me to take my swings, dude," said Chuck with a grin. Turning serious, Chuck asked, "What did the doctors say?"
"I may never be able to father children."
"Aw shit. I'm so sorry, Bryce," said Chuck, giving the other man's arm a squeeze.
"They're not sure yet. And, of course, I need several more dental surgeries, but those get spaced out over a few months."
"I'm sorry. That's rough," said Chuck, genuinely upset for Bryce.
"Yeah. I guess. I don't know. I don't even know if I want kids. Hell, or if I ever want to get married. Spies don't fall in love, you know."
"I don't know anything like that at all. That's bullshit, and you know it," said Chuck, shaking his head.
"Well, maybe. Sarah fell in love. You and Sarah are really in love. But, that's an exceptional case. It was you. Not some random guy. You. I just can't imagine that happening to me. I'm happy for you both, but I'm just not built like you are," he said. "Like either of you are, I guess."
"You just haven't met the right woman yet," said Chuck.
"Oh? And who do you think might be the right woman for me, O Wise One?" asked Bryce with a grin.
"I don't know for sure, but I'll recognize her by her unibrow," said Chuck.
"You suck," said Bryce, laughing.
"That's what everyone is telling me lately," he said.
They passed through the pool area, one huge swimming pool and several smaller ones, and entered the outdoor restaurant, billed as an oceanside bistro. The rest of the team, together with Roan, were waiting for them at a table in the shade. A pleasant breeze from the ocean stirred the leaves of the palm trees over their heads.
"Look who I found. Peter Anderson," said Chuck.
Greetings were exchanged. Roan and Bryce knew each other from the Farm, where Roan had been one of Bryce's instructors. Chuck thought Sarah's greeting of Bryce was a little subdued, polite, but not at all warm.
Bryce sat and said, "Before we go too much farther, I just want to thank you guys again for saving my life a few weeks ago. I can't even think about what would have happened to me if you hadn't pulled me out. So, thank you."
"You're welcome," said Chuck.
"Glad we got there in time," said Amy.
"Any word on Delgado?" asked Casey.
"No, and I'm not surprised. I think they intended for him to live a long time," said Bryce with a shudder.
"Ughhh," said Amy.
"Too right," said Chuck, looking at Amy.
"Anyway, I also want to thank you for letting me join you. I know Director Graham left it up to you and I'm going to do my best to make you all pleased with that decision," he said.
Most of them made generally supportive noises, but Casey just grunted, "You'd better."
The waitress arrived and they ordered lunch. Most ordered seafood of one sort or another. A couple of bottles of Italian Pinot Grigio were ordered for the table. Roan, of course, ordered another martini to replace the one he'd just finished. Chuck was glad Roan had ordered lunch. It would be the first solid food he'd seen the older man eat since they had met him.
While they ate, they explained the operation to Bryce. They expected that he'd find Sasha Banacheck at the bar that night and seduce her. In her room, when she was asleep, he was to search her effects for the schematics, probably contained on a flashdrive of some kind. Once he took the schematics from her, the mission would be successful.
Bryce took the assignment with calm confidence and agreed to his role without qualms. They spent some time discussing emergency procedures and code phrases. Casey had had the local NSA office send over the watch and earwig combo for both Bryce and Roan. Roan had his already, but Bryce's was still in Casey's hotel room, so they arranged for Casey to give it to Bryce after lunch. All of the tracker watches used by the NSA had now been loaded with Chuck's software patch to make the trackers work in three dimensions.
When the business portion of the meal had been completed, they spent their time enjoying the delicious food and drink, the perfect weather, and each other's company. A third bottle of wine was ordered and consumed. Roan was holding court with one funny anecdote after another for much of the time.
After a particularly entertaining story about a motorcycle chase in Thailand, Bryce said, "Oh, my God, that's terrific. That reminds me of a time when Sarah and I were in..."
"Nobody wants to hear that story, Bryce," said Sarah. It wasn't said in the tone of someone being lighthearted or modest or embarrassed. It was an order for him to shut his mouth.
"Oh," said Bryce, startled.
Amy said, "Aw, go ahead, Bryce. I'd love to hear a story about Sarah."
Bryce looked to Sarah, for permission. She looked away and shrugged her assent.
The story, about a motorcycle chase near Lake Como, was funny, self-deprecating, and portrayed Sarah as a superhero. Hearing it, even Chuck didn't understand why she hadn't wanted the story shared. Question for later, he decided.
Lunch over, the group broke up. Sarah chose to go with Chuck up to their suite so he could change into a bathing suit. As they walked, holding hands, he told her about Bryce's news from the doctors.
"Oh, that's too bad," she said. After a pause she said, "I'll bet he doesn't even want kids, though."
"Yeah, that's kind of what he said. But what the hell does he know? He hasn't met the right woman. He still thinks this life he's leading will last forever."
"I guess," said Sarah, after a moment. "Roan as a role model, huh?"
"Maybe. I don't know. I don't know that Roan is particularly happy, though."
"Couldn't say. He looks to me like he's got some stuff to figure out."
"Oh, I wanted to ask. Why didn't you want Bryce to tell that story about the chase in Switzerland?"
"I don't know. It wasn't the story. It's him. I guess I'm not comfortable with him. I'll manage fine with the operational stuff, but … I'm not going to be his friend. Not anymore. Not again. I'm not going to want to hang around with him and reminisce, shoot the breeze. I know you've forgiven him and that's great. I can't get over what he's done, though. I'm holding a grudge. Starting with what he did to you at Stanford and ending with his decision to send you the Intersect. And, in the middle, we have the multiple betrayals of me and whatever relationship we had as partners and...the rest. And when he told that story it brought back those days when he and I were together. There was a time when I looked at those days fondly. Not anymore. Now even thinking of he and I together then makes me … uuuggghhh...really uncomfortable."
"But you wanted him on the team," said Chuck.
"Yeah. I did and I do. I think he'll be a useful addition. Give us someone who's Amy's counterpart for the seduction stuff. You are no more capable of those than I am anymore. And he's a good spy. Sure, there might be some growing pains as we all learn to work together, but that's the case with any new team member. I'm not worried about that part of it. My discomfort is just the personal stuff."
"So, we'll minimize that. Just business," said Chuck. They were walking down the curved hallway of the crescent-shaped hotel.
"Well, that's not fair to you, Sweetie. You are his friend. I can see it when you're together. You guys are buddies. You have the same in jokes and sense of humor. He's a nerd like you are. I'm not going to take that away from you...from either of you. I'm just going to stay an outsider, is all. Not like with Morgan. I love Morgan and will hang out with him whenever you want. Bryce's not my favorite guy, that's all. When you want to hang out with him, go for it. I'll just go hang out with Ellie or Amy or somebody."
"Ok. I mean, I guess. I'm still uncomfortable that you're uncomfortable," he said.
"That's because you're a sweet caring man and you love me," she said, giving him a kiss.
They had arrived at their penthouse suite. The first thing she did was open the doors to the huge terrace looking out over the perfect day and the warm Atlantic stretching away into the horizon. The sun and the wine had relaxed her and she luxuriated in the soft breeze.
Behind her, Chuck was changing into his bathing suit, but she had turned to look at him when he was between pants and bathing suit. As usual, she very much liked the view. She dropped her pareo to the floor and slowly walked to him in just her bikini, her very small bikini.
He looked up at her and froze with a bit of a deer in the headlights look.
"Chuck?" she asked quietly.
"Yes?"
"Do you know something interesting about our terrace?"
"Um, no," he said.
"We can't see into a single other room from it. Not one," she had reached him and put her hand gently on his chest, rubbing softly.
"Uh huh," he said, staring into her beautiful sexy blue eyes.
"And that means no one can see us on the terrace...can see what we do outside on the terrace," she said. She leaned in to kiss him. "No one at all," she said with her lips touching his.
"Mmmmmm," was all he could say in response. He dropped his bathing suit to the floor.
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Much of the rest of the day was spent by the team doing typical vacation stuff. Sitting by the pool and drinking fruity drinks. Casey and Chuck went for a swim in the ocean. Bryce took out a jetski for an hour.
Once Banacheck arrived at the hotel, they separated. Roan went to his hotel room, as it would be a disaster for her to see him. Amy and Casey stayed by the pool for a few more hours and had dinner in the hotel's sushi restaurant. Bryce went to his hotel room to take a nap before the operation began, expecting to be busy late into the evening. Chuck and Sarah left the hotel and had dinner at Lario's on the Beach, Gloria Estefan's Cuban restaurant on Ocean Drive, the stretch of road by the beach south of the hotel, vibrant with neon, Art Deco and hip nightlife.
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Later, Roan sat on an easy chair in Bryce's hotel room while Bryce was preparing for the seduction. He approved of what the younger man was doing.
Bryce said, "What can you tell me about the target, Roan?"
Roan looked out the window at the black of the ocean and the lights of a freighter leaving the Port of Miami and beginning the trek northwards, up the east coast. "If you fuck up, she'll kill you. If you manage to sleep with her and stay too long, she might kill you anyway."
Bryce was tying his tie and didn't look frightened by the prospect and said, "She sounds sort of trigger-happy."
"She is. And we are the enemy. We Americans. She was raised as a Soviet and she bought into it all. Hook, line and sinker. Marx and Lenin. The triumph of the proletariat. The betrayal of the revolution by cowards and quislings in Moscow. She believes, truly believes, that Gorbachev was a CIA asset."
"No way," said Bryce in surprise.
"Yeah," said Roan.
"Umm...was he?" asked Bryce.
Roan just gave him a look and went back to looking out the window.
"How did you beat her last time?" asked Bryce.
"Same thing you're doing. I seduced her. Found out what her plans were for the Bulgarian protesters and stopped her. When the Commies were overthrown, I made sure the new government found out about what she'd intended. Gave them the evidence they needed to pressure her to give up the old government's officials who were in on it. But the bitch was too stupid to talk...to give any of them up. She'd have been out of prison in a matter of months rather than ten fucking years." He shook his head sadly.
"You sound sad. Did you like her?"
"Like her? No. I mean, not really. Look, you can't do the seduction missions unless you like women. Really like them. Understand them. It won't work otherwise. It's just bad acting otherwise," said Roan. "But she was one messed up woman. The Soviets and the KGB had done a job on her head. Totally indoctrinated her. There was no getting around that. God knows what ten years in a prison did to her. You aren't going to have an easy time of it, Kid," he said.
"Luckily for me, I had a really top-notch teacher, Roan," said Bryce with an insouciant grin.
Roan grunted and looked out the window. With a slight shift in perspective, he found himself looking at his own face in the reflection. In his mind, he considered himself as the invincible 29 year old agent, out to beat the world and protect the country. But that was a joke. He wasn't that young man anymore, filled with ambition, idealism and optimism. He'd seen too much, experienced too much, done too much. This life was for young men and women, like this kid, like Chuck and Sarah and Amy. Casey's time would come soon enough.
Here he was back in the game to help stop Sasha. He was gratified to find that he didn't miss his old life. He didn't need it to give meaning to things anymore. He was ok with retirement. He laughed to himself a little bit. That was the first time he'd told himself that. The first time he'd reached that conclusion. It had taken this little jaunt to Miami, hanging around with this team, for him to fully realize it. He wasn't eager to get back to it. Not at all. He'd help these youngsters on this mission and head back to his comfortable living.
He saw something in the reflection and said, "No, kid. No gun. No weapon. If you make it that far, expect to be frisked. A weapon will blow the deal."
But his realization about retirement did make him consider. If being a spy didn't give meaning to his life, what did? Maybe that wasn't necessary. A meaning. Maybe a meaningless comfortable existence was his reward for the good work he had done. Just surf and fuck until he was too old to do either and that's that. He hadn't been torturing himself trying to find something productive to do. But this reminder of the game was stirring something. Just an ember of something, but it had brought his mind to these questions. But this wasn't the time for them.
He made a face at himself in the glass and turned away from it and his thoughts.
"You look good, kid. You ready?"
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Rather than a separate room, the bar was a large area of the hotel's lobby, gently glowing with blue hues from overhead lights and lit glass floor tiles, as befits the name Bleau Bar. It was circular and surrounded by low tables and couches spread out over a wide area. Pretty waitresses in short dresses served the customers. As guests of the hotel, Casey and Amy could not adopt the role of bartenders or wait staff, so they were sitting on one of the couches, drinking and keeping an eye on the bar.
"Larkin, you're up. She's just arrived," said Casey. "Two heavies with her, but keeping their distance. Muscle-heads. I think one of them has muscles on his eyelids. And, shit, one of them looks like Fabio. Long blonde hair down to his shoulders. Can't miss him."
"Right," said Larkin in their ears. "On my way."
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Sarah found Chuck in the bedroom of their suite looking in the mirror and waving his hands around.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Just playing with an idea I had last night from something Roan had said. Just a tricky little thing. If it works, that is," he said with a laugh, putting his hands into his pants pockets. "If it doesn't, it's just stupid."
"You want to tell me?" she asked.
"Let me try it out first, then I'll tell you," he said.
"Ok. Roan is here and Banacheck is in the bar. Bryce is heading there now. Time to get started," she said.
They stepped up to the computer set up that Chuck had arranged on the dining table of the suite, Roan already there. Chuck had managed to get into the hotel's security camera system and, on the suite's large TV screen, they were watching Sasha sit with her drink, watching the men and women in the lobby. Roan, of course, had a pitcher of martinis on the table at his elbow and was steadily draining it.
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Bryce stepped out of the elevator. He had no need to check himself in the mirror, as he knew he looked perfect. He had dressed and groomed himself with the care that an astronaut might use before a space walk. He mentally laughed at the comparison. NASA hadn't lost a single astronaut in space walks. As to seduction missions, the CIA did not have the same stellar track record.
He spotted Sasha Banacheck from mid lobby, maybe forty yards ahead. She had dark hair and eyes and was wearing a simple black dress. There was a glass on the low table in front of her, with a pale liquid and cubes of ice. Her expression managed to combine disdain with boredom. Her lips were pursed as if she had just tasted something bitter. But for her off-putting demeanor, she was an attractive woman.
Work the room, he thought, as he headed across the lobby to the bar area at a slow measured pace. As he began to walk around the bar, taking the long way to reach her, he knew that every eye was on him. He could leave the bar with any woman he desired, but he had chosen her.
Bryce walked up to Ms. Banacheck and said, his voice smooth and deep, "Good evening. Mind if I join you?"
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A/N2: My wife and I love the Fontainebleau Hotel in Miami Beach. For any history majors among the readership, it's the hotel James Bond visited at in the beginning of the movie Goldfinger. My wife once asked the concierge if they sold the brand of scent they pump into the lobby. Give it a sniff if you happen to visit someday. And Larios on the Beach has some delicious Cuban food on Ocean Drive.
A/N3: I have a Russian friend who also believes that Gorbachev was a CIA asset, although, unlike Ms. Banacheck, he has no love for the old Soviet Union. Apparently, that belief is quite commonplace in Russia.
A/N4: Let me know what you think, please. I do love to hear from you.