A/N: If ownership of Chuck ended up in an alligator farm in the Everglades, I suppose it might be eaten by an alligator and cohabit with Captain Hook's clock from Peter Pan.
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RECAP: Sasha Banacheck recognized Roan Montgomery's style when Bryce Larkin attempted to seduce her in the Bleau Bar of the Fontainebleau Hotel, dooming that effort. Although Chuck and Bryce escaped from her men unharmed, Sasha herself managed to disappear with the schematics she intends to sell to Fulcrum. Not only is their target gone, but she is now forewarned that she's the subject of an operation to stop the sale. Challenges ahead for our friends.
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Team B, together with Roan, sat in Chuck and Sarah's hotel suite and began to plan their next moves. "But now we have to find Sasha Banacheck and those schematics before she can transfer them to Fulcrum. And it's going to be harder now that she knows we are after her."
Sarah said, "Yes, and she bragged that she has contingency plans. We have to find out what those are."
"Well, she'll be gone from here, from the hotel. No question about that," said Amy.
"Think her men will talk?" Bryce asked Roan.
"If her history is an indication, probably. They'll just be muscle she hired for a week or two. She doesn't use a real team, loyal to her, I mean. But the flip side of that is that they won't know anything important."
"I'll go check on them in the morning. See what I can get out of them," said Casey.
"Do we have a skeleton key?" Bryce asked Chuck, referring to the IC's device used to spoof the magnetic hotel room keys.
"Sure." Chuck reached into his bag and handed Bryce the device. The bottom looked like a hotel room key, but connected above it was a box of electronics.
"I can go look in their room. See if I can find anything," said Bryce. "It's just the two of them, right? She doesn't have a ton more guys lurking around?"
"If she does, they aren't staying at the hotel. Her reservations were just for her room and the one other," said Chuck.
"And I'll check Sasha's room," said Sarah.
"Ok. I'll go into the hotel's systems and see what her account looks like. The credit card she used. What she ordered from room service. Phone calls. Stuff like that," said Chuck.
"Ok, Case?" asked Sarah.
"I'll hang around with Bartowski," he said. "Get him to teach me Klingon."
Sarah laughed and said, "Ok. Roan, want to see Sasha's room?"
"Sure," he said.
Amy looked at Bryce and said, "Want company?"
"Love it," he responded.
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The six of them split up. Sarah and Roan made it into Sasha's room and gave the skeleton key to Amy and Bryce to use on the other room's door. They began to search the room and Sasha's possessions meticulously, step by step and taking their time.
"Can I ask you something personal?"
"Sure," she said.
"How'd it happen? With you and Chuck, how'd it happen? I'm surprised, Sarah. I really am. Given your reputation, I wouldn't have figured you to fall in love. Graham's enforcer and all that. I would have thought you were married to the job. I'm happy for you, just surprised," Roan said.
"Not as surprised as I am. This was the last thing I ever expected. But it happened pretty much at first sight. Of course," she laughed at herself a little bit. "I couldn't admit it, even to myself for months. But once I did, it was like a huge weight had come off my back. Like I could fly without ever leaving the ground. And it gets better and better every day, if that's even possible," she said with a happy grin.
"What are you going to do after you're married?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
"When you're not a spy anymore?" he said.
"What are you talking about? Why wouldn't I be a spy anymore?"
"I thought you'd settle down. You know, have a normal life," he said. "Isn't that what married people do?"
"Roan, we are doing a lot of good work here. Both Chuck and I enjoy the work we are doing and feel we're making a difference. We aren't going to stop doing it just because we got married. There are married spies you know."
"Spies don't fall in love," said Roan. His tone of voice made Sarah look at him. The trite phrase was said with...sadness.
"First off, that's not true. I fell in love. Langston fell in love with Anna. Spies are human and fall in love just like any other human. They may ignore it or give it up to do the job, but when you are in love with someone who allows you to have a relationship and still do the job, there's no reason you have to choose."
Roan looked at her closely for a moment or two, "Well, you did get lucky. He seems like a wonderful man. That thing with the thumbs was brilliant, but simple at the same time. But what's the other thing. You said 'first.' What's second?"
"You're not a spy anymore."
Roan looked at her for a moment or two and said, "No. I'm not."
"Susie seemed really nice."
"Yeah. She's wonderful. Everything a man could want," he admitted pensively.
Sarah let the conversation drift into silence, hesitant to push Roan into an uncomfortable discussion.
Roan took a flask from his pocket and took a long swig while he was searching the room's desk.
"You have some pretty remarkable tolerance for that stuff," she said.
"Practice," he said, taking another swig. "It's the only thing that lets me be vaguely human. Without it, I'm just a clenched fist. Gin loosens that. Let's me sleep without nightmares...at least some of the time."
He opened the door to the balcony, stepped outside and lit a cigarette.
Sarah laughed, "When you need a smoke you really need it, huh?"
He tapped the ash from the end of the cigarette into his left hand and tossed the rest of the cigarette off the balcony to the roof far below. Stepping back into the room he said, "You're probably too young to have seen North By Northwest..."
"Not so. I saw it with Chuck," she said.
He dropped the ash onto the blank page on the top of the note pad on the desk near the room's phone and lightly smeared it around with a finger.
"Bingo."
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Amy and Bryce were similarly searching the room of Fabio and his muscle head partner.
"Can I ask you something?" asked Amy.
"Sure," he said.
"Why'd you get Chuck kicked out of school?"
Bryce paused in what he was doing and sighed. "Because I made a mistake. Because I was stupid and arrogant, and I thought I knew better than everyone else. And then the whole thing spun out of control and the dean overreacted. The next thing I knew, he was gone. It was the biggest mistake of my life and I realize that more and more every day. I fucked over my best friend...my only friend."
"What were you trying to do?"
"I was trying to keep him out of the CIA. To protect him. I thought he couldn't make it in this life."
Amy huffed a small snort. "Chuck not make it in this life? Boy, were you wrong. Chuck is a natural. I've never seen anyone anywhere who can do what Chuck can do. His skills and talents are off the charts amazing. And he elevates the skill level of others. Hell, Bryce, just breathing the same air as him has made me a better spy than I ever was before. Far better. And I was really good to start with."
"You are gushing like a fangirl," said Bryce with a grin.
"I probably am. And not embarrassed by it in the slightest. You'll see. You should have listened to him on the beach tonight."
"Yeah. I guess I should have. That thing with the thumbs was crazy brilliant."
"It's Chuck. Do you know what we call crazy brilliant?"
"What?"
"Thursday."
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After the searches, they reassembled in the suite.
Amy and Bryce had struck out and found nothing of use in the mens' hotel room.
Roan put a piece of ash smeared paper on the table. The imprint of what had been written on the page above that one stood out in white on the darkened page.
P BOAT
DEP 17.00
"Ok. She's going to put a deposit on a boat," said Bryce.
"A $17.00 deposit? I doubt it. No one is going to take that amount of money seriously. Too little," said Amy.
"And there's no dollar sign," said Casey.
Sarah said, "That's how you can write the time in Russia. With the dot, not a colon. That's five o'clock."
"Then 'dep' means departure. That's what time the 'p boat' departs," said Chuck.
"Party boat. She said the Fulcrum guys are people she'd like to party with. She's going on a party boat departing at 5:00. I'll bet that's where the delivery to Fulcrum will take place," said Sarah.
"Ok. How many party boats are there in Miami Beach?" asked Casey.
Chuck turned to his computer and typed for a few moments. With a finger, he counted the resultant hits. "Looks like eleven operators. I expect they'll be many more if we look at all of South Florida."
"Well, let's not look too far afield. It's reasonable to think that she picked a hotel near the meet with Fulcrum," said Sarah.
"If she booked it under her own name we can figure out where she'll be," said Bryce.
"Yeah, but it's not likely she did that," said Roan.
"Hell, the Fulcrum people could have booked it for all of them," said Casey.
"They'd still need a guest list though. Right?" said Chuck.
"Yeah, but God knows what name she might be using," said Sarah.
"Ok. Fair enough. But let's expect a decent sized party. She's not going to show up by herself. She wouldn't have counted on having her men out of action. And the Fulcrum guys never run solo, at least not in our experience. So that's another biggish group," said Chuck.
"Won't narrow it down. I'll bet most of the guests on those boats are with biggish groups," said Amy. "Who would go on one of those things alone? Yuck."
"Ok. So, I'll hack in and see if I can figure anything out. Maybe we'll get lucky and there will only be one boat leaving at five. But, that's not our only lead."
"What do you have, Chuck? What'd you find?" asked Roan.
"I didn't get anything useful from the credit card info or the email or physical addresses on the hotel's registration. Traced it all back to a web of overseas bank accounts. But, Sasha used the hotel phone for external calls while in the room. Not often, but a few times, maybe a half dozen. Calls to some burner phones. Dead end there. Call to a Russian restaurant in Miami, and no, there's no reservation in her name. And finally, a call to a realtor."
"A realtor?" said Roan, in surprise.
Chuck put up a website on the screen of the hotel's TV. There was a picture of a smiling group of women standing in front of a building in the Miami sunshine.
"Fiorelli Realty. They are billed as a M/WBE. A minority or woman owned business enterprise. You can qualify for certain government contracts when you get that certification. Anyway, this one advertises itself as having only women brokers. The call to them lasted a while. I went into their servers and they didn't do business with her in her own name or using the credit card we have for her."
"An apartment? A safe house somewhere?" asked Bryce.
"Naw. This outfit does only commercial. Retail space. Warehouses. Smaller industrial buildings. Stuff like that," said Chuck.
Casey said, "Sounds like it's got your name on it, Montgomery. If she used these people to rent space nearby, you're the best choice to figure that out."
"Yeah, Frankie. I think I'll visit them in the morning," said Roan.
"Alright," said Sarah. "I'll go with Casey to interrogate her goons from the beach in the morning."
"Sounds good. The rest of us will try to find Banacheck's party boat," said Chuck. "Now it's time to get some sleep. It's late."
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Roan Montgomery woke early and ordered a room service breakfast. While he waited for his food to arrive he did sit-ups, leg lifts and push-ups, each repetition performed so slowly that his muscles screamed at him. After a quick shower, first scalding hot and then as freezing as he could stand, the food arrived. Scrambled eggs, crisp bacon, whole wheat toast, a large pitcher of iced orange juice and a pot of strong black coffee. He ate in the hotel robe on the balcony while looking out at the sparkling Atlantic.
Without realizing how it happened, his mind drifted to the conversation he'd had the prior night while searching Sasha's hotel room. He'd lived his life by the mantra 'spies don't fall in love' and it had been successful for him. He knew that he had cynically made use of the affections and bodies of scores of women and not felt a thing for them in return. He was a spy. His heart was deadened to that possibility. He'd lived his entire adult life by that rule.
But there was Walker, as serious a spy as anyone, joyfully in love with Carmichael. The exception that proves the rule, he supposed. Clearly, with her reputation, she was top notch. And with the looks she gave Chuck...the looks they shared, they had something special with each other. It made him smile, happy for them.
And it made him question himself. Walker had reminded him that he was no longer a spy. Was he even capable of love at all, much less at this point in his life? Did he love Susie? He had been honest with Walker last night. Susie was everything a man could want...and then some. He knew she loved him. Did he love her? Could he love her?
With a grimace of annoyance at his own train of thought, he put his cigarette out in the remains of the coffee in his cup and stood up. Time to go to work.
Twenty minutes later, he was dressed in a lightweight blue cotton suit, with an unbuttoned white shirt without a tie. He took one of the team's cars from the hotel's valet and drove to the offices of Fiorelli Realty on Northeast 19th Street in Miami.
Stepping through the doors and into the airconditioned building he took off his sunglasses. He was greeted by a young brunette at reception. To the left, through an opened doorway were desks with a handful of women manning computers or phones. More than one looked up at the newcomer with appraising eyes.
"Good morning. I was wondering if I may speak to Ms. Fiorelli, please?"
"Do you have an appointment?"
"I'm afraid I don't. Perhaps Ms. Fiorelli might have a few moments to speak with a prospective client, though."
"I'll find out for you, Sir. What may I say is your name, please?"
"Franks. Peter Franks."
"Thank you, Mr. Franks. One moment, please."
Shortly, an attractive forty-something year old woman came out of a back office. Black hair and dark eyes. Deep tan. White teeth. Business attire that nevertheless complimented her figure. No wedding ring.
"Good morning," she said. "I'm Cathy Fiorelli, Mr. Franks. How do you do?"
They shook hands. "Good morning, Ms. Fiorelli. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me without an appointment."
"Well, Mr. Franks, you did say the magic words. 'Prospective client.' That usually gets my attention. Would you step this way, please? My office is just over here."
Her office was a decent size, but unlike most of the women working in the adjacent space, she had a door she could close.
"What can I do for you?"
"I'd like to look at some retail properties, please. About 5,000 square feet. For a chain store. I'm not in a position to mention which one. At least not yet. Someplace with adequate foot traffic, but not a mall."
"Oh, that won't be a problem at all. We have a couple of dozen properties that would fit the bill. I can have Mindy show you..."
"Actually, Ms. Fiorelli, I was hoping you might take care of me personally," he said with a smile.
She looked at him carefully for a few moments and said, "Of course. Do you have some time now?"
"Now would be perfect," he said, standing.
She smiled and said, "Wonderful, come with me, please." She picked up her car keys from the desk and gestured for him to precede her back to the reception.
"Carol, I'm going to show Mr. Franks some properties."
"Ok, Ms. Fiorelli," said the receptionist.
She led him to a black Ford Explorer with a sunshield up in the front windshield. The car made a boop-beep noise as she unlocked it.
He climbed into the passenger seat as she took the sunshield and threw it into the back seat. The air-conditioning came on as the SUV started.
He smelled her perfume and said, "Is that Anais Anais you're wearing?"
She looked at him startled, but then grinned with delight, "Why yes, it is. You recognized it."
"I did. It's what my wife used to wear."
"Used to?"
"Yes. She passed away. About three years ago. Cancer." He spoke with a level of sadness, but also resignation.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," she said.
"Thank you. It was tough for a while, but I'm ok now. But if my mind wanders off when I'm with you...when I'm smelling...well, I hope you'll forgive me." He gave her a sad smile.
"Oh, of course, Mr. Franks."
"Please call me Peter," he said.
She laid a hand on his arm and smiled at him. She said, "And you can call me Cathy, Peter."
It was on the way to the third store for them to evaluate that Roan said, "Cathy, I'm sorry. I can't do this anymore. I can't continue to lie to you. I'm not really looking at these sites. Evaluating them..."
She looked at him startled and confused. He continued, "I'm evaluating you. Actually, your business. I'm with the ABRE," he said, referring to one of the largest real estate brokerage businesses in the country. "We are seeking to expand in Miami by acquiring an MWBE. I'm on the committee that's trying to select a likely candidate. If we would go forward and make you an offer, it would be a pretty generous package, so they wanted me to see what you're like before coming clean about my purpose here. I'm sorry for the deception. I'm not very good at this spy stuff, really. I couldn't keep lying to you. I just like you too much."
She was an intelligent businesswoman and knew how these acquisitions went. They included a contract to work for the combined firm for a few years, but with an upfront payment that would give her more than enough money to retire young (or young-ish, she thought with a laugh at herself) or to do anything else she wanted to do once the contract had ended. This might be the brass ring.
"Well, thank you, Peter. I like you too. What would the terms of any sort of acquisition look like?"
"I'm sorry. It's too early to discuss that. I shouldn't have even told you this much."
"I understand," she said, although she didn't really. "Have you reached a conclusion in your 'evaluation'?" She used the hand not on the steering wheel to show air quotes.
"Well, yes. I'm going to recommend that we move forward to the next steps. Internally, that means a vote of the committee and a notification to you that we'd like access to your books and records for analysis, subject to a non-disclosure agreement, of course. What I'd like now, if you wouldn't mind, is a tour of the last ten or twenty deals your office has done. Could we do that, Cathy?" He gave her a gentle smile.
She smiled at him and said, "Sure, Peter. I think that's possible."
She drove him around for a few more hours showing him properties they had leased or sold, in each case being forthcoming about the parties to the particular transaction. They stopped midday for lunch at a lovely seafood restaurant with a view of Biscayne Bay. The sun was shining and a light breeze off the water was making the warm day comfortable. Ms. Fiorelli was flirting more and more as lunch went on and the wine kicked in. When lunch was ending, Roan asked, "Do you do much work with overseas clients?"
"Absolutely. There are any number of South American businesses that want to have a presence in Miami. And we have a majority of Spanish speakers in the office."
"How about Europeans?"
"Well, fewer, but some. We had a British company which recently bought a development site in Miami Beach for a future hotel, and a Russian woman who rented a warehouse for the month. Not a ton of European investment here overall though."
"Well, let's see those two next," he said.
After lunch, they saw the British company's vacant lot and then drove to the Russian woman's warehouse. The warehouse was on Dodge Island, in the southern part of Biscayne Bay near the Government Cut inlet out to the Atlantic. It was small and seemingly deserted. There was a long dock out back with a single speedboat tied up.
"Only a month? Do you know what she wanted it for?"
"No. I didn't hear. We assume she has a load for transshipment. Delivery here. Hold for a few weeks and ship out again when the connecting ship arrives."
"Humm. Yes," said Roan. "Makes sense. When did she take it?"
"The lease began first of the month, so it's got almost a week to go."
"Ah. Odd one," he said.
"Oh, that's not so strange. Let me tell you about what this guy from Cleveland wanted once..." And she did.
They spent another hour or so looking at some other properties Fiorelli Realty had been involved with. Finally, Cathy Fiorelli drove them back to the offices, where Roan had left his car.
"I don't know what your schedule is like, Peter, but I live in that condo building right over there. Maybe you'd like to come up for a drink. That is, if you're not otherwise booked."
Peter smiled at her, but it was tinged with regret. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder and gave a soft squeeze. "I would really enjoy that, Cathy. I really would. But with the work my committee is doing in New York about our expansion down here, that would be a massive conflict of interest. Can I take a raincheck until we are both working for the same company? At that point there won't be anything to … complicate matters. Can you hold that thought?"
"Of course. I look forward to it," she said with a smile.
"Me too."
Forty-five minutes later, he was back on Dodge Island and parking his car behind a shipping container near Banacheck's warehouse.
He wondered to himself. Why didn't he take Cathy up on her offer? Why didn't he spend some time in her condo? He had the time, so that wasn't it. He had reacted to her offer without conscious thought, and now was puzzled by the decision.
Putting aside the question, he focused on the building in front of him. He didn't see any sign of activity, which wasn't surprising given the lack of windows and the closed doors. No visible security cameras or other tech equipment to give warning if there was anyone inside. Probably more telling was the lack of any parked cars in the parking area behind the building. There was a six foot high fence surrounding the property with a gate locked with a chain and padlock. A sea bird perched on the top bar of the gate, looking out at the water. It turned to watch him as he approached.
"How's your day going, Jonathan?" he asked the bird, which seemed to take offense at his effrontery in speaking and flew off.
Roan glanced at his watch. Almost two hours until Sasha's party boat departed. He took out his phone and texted Sarah.
Found SB's property. Checking it out. What's up w u?
Moments later he received the text: Spread out on stakeout of 3 p-boats. Need help?
He replied, No. Talk ltr.
Putting his phone away, he walked up to a box someone had obligingly pushed up to the fence. Clambering on the box, he jumped over the fence and landed lightly inside the confines of Sasha's warehouse property.
He took a quick walk around the building and saw nothing alarming. In back, hidden by the bulk of the building from any street traffic, was a locked door. A lock pick, a tension wrench and a little under ninety seconds and it became an open door.
He stepped into the building and closed the door behind him.
He was taking off his sunglasses when the first blow hit him in the stomach and knocked the breath out of him. He spun to face the direction of the attacker, still blind as his eyes adjusted to the dark. From behind him, a kick hit the back of his right knee, buckling the leg. So, two opponents.
He lunged forward, taking a hard blow to the face as he did so, but was rewarded with a body in his hands. Blindly, he struck upwards with the edge of his hand into the man's groin, satisfied that he heard a pained grunt. He took a heavy blow to the kidney and spun the body in his hands around. He felt that body take a blow otherwise meant for him from the man's partner.
His eyes were adjusting to the darkness of the warehouse but not enough yet to actually see. So, it was more by instinct than anything else that he threw his head backwards and mostly dodged a blow from a third man standing to his side.
While that man was off balance, and while he still controlled the man in his grasp, he pushed the men into one another. The first man to hit him was the farthest from him and wasn't placed to get a decent shot in. Roan kept to the wall by the door so that they couldn't get behind him. The action was so fast, he didn't even have an opportunity to disengage and draw his weapon.
As they were set, they were all to Montgomery's right and along the wall. If he allowed them to spread to put him in the center of a semicircle with his back to the wall, he was dead. If he could keep to this arrangement, they would have a tough time coming at him together and he could deal with them one at a time.
So, he began to do that. The man in his hands, with the damaged genitalia, was the first. Roan slammed his head into the wall of the building as hard as he could. The man went down.
The man on the side threw a kick at Roan. Roan caught the kick with both hands and swung the man into his partner, slamming the man against the wall as well. While holding the leg, Roan executed a side thrust kick to the inside of the knee of the man's support leg. The man screamed in pain as tendons separated and he began to collapse. Roan let go of the leg and pushed to help gravity do its thing. The man tried to grab at Roan on the way down but couldn't get a grip.
His partner moved to the side to get a clean shot at Roan, but Roan blocked the punch and entangled the man's punching arm in an arm bar, using that control to push him into his partner on the floor.
As the man went down, Roan hit him in the chin with a knee, knocking him out. With the now dead-weight body on top of the man with the damaged knee, Roan kicked that man in the face, knocking him out, and knocking out a tooth in the process.
Breathing heavily, he looked at the three men sprawled on the ground at his feet. That's when he was hit from behind with something heavy. He felt himself falling onto the unconscious men as blackness enclosed him.
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Consciousness came back to him slowly, but his first impressions were of pain. Pain in his head and pain in his hands. He lifted his head and the pain increased momentarily, then steadied into a dull throb. He opened his eyes and looked at his hands. They were almost purple.
He was naked and tied to a metal desk chair with what looked like clothesline. His hands, tightly bound to the arms of the chair, were aching from a lack of circulation. There was something round in his mouth. He tried to spit it out, but his lips wouldn't move, no doubt duct taped in place.
Turning his head, he looked around. The first thing he saw were the rags that had once been his clothes. From the look of them, they had been cut off of him. His watch was among the pile, but his weapon was missing.
Turning his head in the other direction, he saw Sasha Banacheck sitting on a folding chair and watching him silently. There was a folding table next to her. He couldn't be sure, but it seemed that his pistol was on that table. Her dark eyes studied him without expression.
Suddenly, she smiled with her mouth, but not her eyes. "Hi, Roan darling. I'm so glad you woke up. I wanted to talk to you before I left."
She picked up something from the table next to her and moved the chair over to sit next to him. When she seated herself again, he saw what she was holding.
Metal knuckles with a curved blade protruding at ninety degrees from the bottom edge of the knuckles. He knew it was called a karambit knuckle knife and, although it looked ferocious, he'd always thought it was borderline ridiculous. But he was taking it very seriously at that moment.
She saw him looking at the knife and reached out to touch his arm with the blade. She brushed it gently along his forearm, but didn't press enough to even leave a mark, much less break the skin.
She looked up into his eyes. "Don't be frightened, Roan. I don't think I'm going to cut you. I thought about it, but your body has too many scars as it is. And I can see that you've gotten some more since the last time I saw you. This one..." she touched his shoulder, "... is new. And I think the one over your kidney. You see, I had a lot of time to remember your body. To remember us. To think. It's like I told your man last night. If you think too much, time seems to stop. And when the only thing keeping you from breathing free air is time, that's bad."
She stood up from the seat. "Honestly, Roan, I wish I had more time to talk to you now. There's so much to say. So much reminiscing to do. About old times in Bulgaria. About the end of the Cold War and the arrival of the unipolar world. Just hours and hours of conversation. But I don't have time right now, I'm afraid. You caught up with me on a busy day."
Two of her men, who Roan had beaten when he entered the building, half carried the third man with the damaged knee, to the chair near Roan just vacated by Sasha. The man took out a gun and looked at Roan with hatred.
Sasha said to the man, "Watch him like he's a venomous snake. If he gives you any trouble at all, shoot out a knee. I'll be back soon enough. But if you shoot him just because you are annoyed at him for what he did to you, I will cut off your cock and make you eat it. Do we understand each other?"
"Yes, Ma'am," he said. It was clear that he took the threat seriously.
Sasha bent down and kissed Roan hard on his cheek. She said to him quietly, "Back soon, Roan. I have a date on a boat."
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A/N2: How'd I do?