CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
You should be happier now
With no one to pray to
Or would you love to
Break your knees from
Begging and praying?
"Bite Hard"
Franz Ferdinand
July 13, 2012
Timișoara, Romania
Night quickly approaching, the team reached the fourth level without incident. The building on the inside was like a vacant factory, exposed pipes and support structures visible as jumbled masses in the dark. The shadows were heavy, and they relied on their wrist lamps and the infrared scanner. They found themselves outside what Chuck was certain was an Intersect room, having seen two out of the four that had been built by the U.S. government. The cement wall on the outside, constructed with cinder blocks, was similar, but this one was light gray, so smudges of dirt and hand prints were visible, scattered all the way down the wall.
It was the lack of security that had Chuck feeling almost sick to his stomach. And once the lock on the door was unscrambled, his awful suspicions had been confirmed. They walked into a bright white room, the floor, walls and ceiling all made of digital tiles, with a relatively innocuous looking computer at the center. As Chuck approached the computer, even from a significant distance away, he could see the system shut down, the hard drive non functional, as it would be once a download had completed. Only the very first version of the Intersect that he had received in an email had the potential to provide more than one upload, as he'd learned over the course of the years he'd been dealing with in this version of reality.
"You were right, Charles, we're too late," Corrine exclaimed. "Whatever he was planning, he must have accelerated his plans once he figured out what I was doing. Damn," she swore, punching her fist down on top of the dead computer.
"This is still warm," Chuck said, laying his hand against the processing unit positioned on the table. "We were literally just a few hours too late. This is crazy," he said in exasperation.
"There's someone in the hall outside, fifty meters and closing," Corrine said briskly, as she scanned her device.
All four of them pulled out their weapons. "Four against one?" Morgan said quietly.
"He's an Intersect. You need probably fifteen, at least, to overwhelm an Intersect," Chuck said tightly, moving forward and approaching the door. "The good news is, it only takes one other Intersect," he added, grim determination on his face.
They focused on the door, not hearing as one of the ceiling tiles slid open, and someone dropped down through the opening, landing with a thud, crouched on their haunches. Corrine heard it first, spinning , but not quickly enough to stop the fist that punched the gun out of her hand, the intruder's other hand reaching up and punching her to the ground. She growled, almost screamed, and kicked his legs out from under him as she went down. Casey moved next, but was stopped as the man from the hallway entered the room, gun drawn as well, essentially neutralizing the group, for the moment.
Chuck recognized the ceiling dropper as Leonid Poshenko, the man whom Morgan had knocked out with a flashlight a little over 24 hours ago. He watched helplessly as Poshenko pinned Corrine to the ground, his forearm across her shoulders and neck, his gun inches away from her face. "I should kill you here, right now, for your flagrant insubordination," he sneered, an ugly grimace contorting his features.
He pushed her down, banging her head against the ground as he stood, shifting the gun from pointing at her to pointing at Chuck. "But you, Mr. Carmichael, are the one I was looking for. Although, now, I must admit, you have become irrelevant, considering I finished what I've been trying to do for almost 30 years."
"I wouldn't be so sure of yourself there," Chuck said, menace in his own tone. He felt Casey and Morgan behind him, moving at gunpoint back into a corner. Poshenko waved Corrine towards them with his gun.
"Could I have been correct in my wild assumption?" he said, teasing, tilting his head. "Do you actually have an Intersect, Mr. Carmichael? You know, everyone thought I was crazy. But it explains a lot, now that I think about it really hard."
He walked up to Chuck, pressing the barrel of his gun against Chuck's chest. "But there is only room for one Intersect, don't you think?" he taunted.
The flash was instantaneous with the hand that grabbed the gun and pulled it away, flipping him onto his back and distending his arm at the same time. Distracted by the melee, the guard holding Casey, Morgan, and Corrine at gunpoint never anticipated Casey's hand coming up quickly from the side and leveling him to the ground. That threat neutralized, the three of them found themselves standing again, watching Chuck as he confronted Poshenko.
It was something only Sarah had seen firsthand, Casey understanding what had happened, but arriving after he could have seen what he was witnessing now, as he recalled the past tension when for a brief time, Casey had been reporting to Jane Bentley. Chuck and Poshenko's hand to hand combat appeared as if they were facing each other in a mirror. Move for move, arm and leg movements cancelled each other out. Chuck had the feeling of deja vu, remembering fighting with Captains Dunwoody and Noble. Normally he would have been able to understand the situation called for dread, and worry, but he had none of that, instead just a blank rage that kept him fighting a futile, perfectly matched dance.
The room was filled with the sounds of fists pounding flesh, bones crunching. Corrine could hear the grunting, the angry growling as they confronted each other like wolves in the wild. Speckles of blood dotted the gleaming whiteness of the floor, slowly spreading out in what appeared like mandalas, the blood spatter oddly symmetric in the bizarre contest they were witnessing.
The interminable nature of the fight began to wear. Chuck was strong, but he was still human, and eventually he would fatigue. It was only a matter of time before one of them ran out of steam. Casey bet on Poshenko, because he appeared older and less physically fit than Chuck, but there were no guarantees. Casey saw Poshenko's face, knowing whatever version he had downloaded, Chuck was still the only one who had the emotional suppression enhancement. Poshenko was angry, and started to falter in the endless battle. Rushing him from behind, Casey clubbed him on the back of his head, knocking him unconscious.
Chuck stumbled forward, the source of his resistance removed. He reached up a trembling hand, wiping at the blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. Casey watched him, on his own, pull at the watch to deactivate his flash, so to speak. Cycling down from the raging high, Chuck heard Casey's sigh of relief.
A second later, Chuck cried out in pain, stumbling backward onto his hands as the fog cleared. Panting, he struggled as he told them, "Wherever you thought he was looking for the Intersect, the one he has didn't come from Manoosh, or any of the other sources you thought were a possibility. He has a U.S. government issue, the same program I do." He was almost wheezing, out of breath, his words rough from his dry throat.
"How is that possible?" Corrine asked, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"It had to come from somewhere, Bartowski," Casey said sharply. "You're sure no one had the pristine version but you?"
"My sister laid that all out at the briefing we went to. The entire history and all her research. Everything he had," Chuck said, gesturing to the supine form on the ground, "came from an unknown source, which," he turned to Corrine, "came from my father's file. The degraded copy from Volkoff's computer." Chuck's voice strengthened, as he continued to rest still on the floor.
"Yes. That was what all my recon and intel told me, Charles. What you're describing doesn't make sense," she assured him.
"The matched moves. I know what that means. I've seen it before," Chuck said adamantly. "Poshenko and I have the same program."
"Chuck!" Morgan nearly screamed, shaking them out of their nervous but pensive state. "Get over here, now!" he screamed again.
Chuck looked up, to see him standing at the defunct computer. "What is it, Morgan?" he asked, worried, seeing Morgan's hands shaking as he toggled a switch on the computer. He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the aches and pains from fighting.
Speaking so quickly Chuck missed some of the words, Morgan stuttered, "The monitor was blinking. It's not dead. He was using this computer for two purposes. I switched it to its secondary mode."
The blank screen woke up as Chuck took the two strides necessary to get to the computer. What flashed on the screen stopped him dead in his tracks, as he felt his heart almost stop beating for a moment. He had no saliva left, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as he felt so suddenly cold inside he was going numb. He had the sensation that the floor beneath him had tilted, like his feet were about to slide out from underneath him. The screen was covered in nine individual boxes, grayed black and white images, some still photographs, some live videos, every single one from inside his sister's house in Chicago, as if he were looking out through her computer screen into her house.
July 13, 2012
Pentagon, Washington, D.C.
Diane Beckman scrolled through the data she had just recently acquired, her eyes aching with fatigue as she tried to focus on finding specific information in a veritable haystack of minutiae. She knew what she was looking for, which streamlined the process considerably, but it was still tedious. The computer was doing the work, scanning, using the criteria she had compiled. The first thought that always crossed her mind when she thought about computer work like this related to espionage, was that if he were available, Charles Bartowski could have solved this problem in one quarter of the time it was taking her. Although she had never told him she believed it to be true, she knew he was just that good. It was actually plain and simple.
Only now, he was seven hours away in Romania on a mission to retrieve a potential lost Intersect, while she was here, looking for proof that someone else was looking to obtain the same technology.
Her computer trilled in warning, as a match for her criteria was suddenly detected. "Damn it, I was right," she said out loud, her heart racing now that her worst fears had been realized. It was there, all the data relating to the Intersect project, data that had come from Orion's laptop, and to her dismay, data apparently copied from Eleanor Woodcomb's research from the lab at the hospital and her home computer.
Where the hell was Bentley, that this enormous security breach had been perpetrated on her watch? She stormed out of her office, headed to the office of the NCS liaison. She still had work to do, the last piece of her investigation needing to begin, but she wanted some clarification before she started damning herself and everyone else involved.
She missed the blinking light on her desk phone that indicated her voicemail message from her secretary.
July 13, 2012
Oak Park, Illinois
"Wait a minute, wait a minute. Mom, what are you getting at?" Ellie asked frantically. "What's the matter?"
"It's what I was talking about before. I know why you were keeping it a secret, but someone else figured out what you were doing. They were monitoring you. And now they know you have a functioning Intersect file on this computer," she hissed, out of the ear shot of Jeff and Lester, who were in the process of packing up their gear and putting things back together.
"Someone in the government? So you mean they're trying to create another Intersect using my research?" she asked.
"Glad we could be of assistance, ladies," Lester said, as they stepped forward. He was completely unaware of the desperate situation that anyone less self-absorbed could have seen on the faces of the three women in the room. Jeff looked askance, but said nothing. Lester pulled out what looked like a business card and handed it to Ellie. "We're at the Concord Music Hall all week."
Irritated to the point of distraction, Ellie mumbled, "I'll show you out. Thanks guys. I'll tell Chuck and Morgan you said hi when I see them." She almost ran, pulling them by the arms and shoving them out the front door.
Once the door closed, Ellie missed Jeff saying to Lester as he shook his head, "Something is wrong in there. I don't think we should leave just yet. Catch my drift?"
"I do, my friend. I do," Lester said melodramatically, his eyes narrowed to thin slits. "I definitely do."
Ellie came streaking back into the room, almost sliding on the hardwood floor as she whisked the door shut behind her. Her mother continued as if no break in the conversation had occurred. "Not like you think, Ellie. It's not someone acting above board. Daniel Shaw implicated someone else besides Clyde Decker. That much I know. Who it is, or what they want with it, I don't know. I know Beckman has her suspicions. Only she had no idea you had a functioning copy, Ellie. And now whoever was monitoring you knows we know what they were doing, since Jeff scrambled the feed from the other side. Do you understand?" Mary was clear and concise, her voice neutral now, despite the obvious dismay that Ellie could see on her face.
"Mary, what about Chuck?" Sarah interjected sharply. "His orders came from Beckman. What if his mission's been compromised? If someone else in the Pentagon knows what they're trying to do, someone whose intentions are questionable?" The look on her face at that moment made the searing way she'd handled Lester look like congeniality.
Her tone slightly hesitant, as Ellie had no practical experience for dealing with the Sarah Walker now in her presence, she said softly, "Chuck said Corrine MacArthur is not an Intersect."
"Ok, but something else is going on or he would be on his way back by now," she insisted. "Look, I've been a spy almost my entire adult life. This is not a coincidence. We need to talk to Chuck," she almost shouted. She left off the pivotal words that she needed to talk to him. For so many reasons.
"You're right, Sarah. We need to get in touch with him. And General Beckman. Right now," Mary said, shaking her head, trying to hide her chagrin. Being just Grandma for so long had taken away some of her edge, she was forced to admit to herself.
Ellie spun on her. "Once I acknowledge it to her, it goes out of my control. That was the whole point. I did this to help Sarah, and help my brother, without contributing to creating another problem that keeps it from being over with forever. I'm removing that Intersect from your head, Sarah, if it's the last thing I do." She realized too late her unfortunate word choice, begging that she wasn't being clairvoyant.
"Any support we need to call has to go through channels, Ellie. This is too dangerous! Clara's here. You have to think about your family first, Ellie. Worry about me later," Sarah insisted.
Ellie blanched, a thought occurring to her. She put her hand over her lips, mouthing the word "bugs" to Sarah, then raising her hand to indicate she was asking the question. Mary saw, nodded, silently telling her daughter she was able to check the room. Slowly, appearing nonchalant, Mary scoured the room. The detection device hidden inside her pocket, she slowly moved back to Ellie and said, "The room's clean."
Ellie nodded, the next words spilling out in a frantic rush. "Tell Alex to get Clara into the panic room. Once they're sealed inside, no one can get in unless they have a grenade. The NCS enhanced the feature. All the houses built in this cul-de-sac have one. Ours is state of the art, even for something as advanced as that. I need to let Devon know to not come home, not until the coast is clear."
Looking at Sarah, her eyes set like stone, Ellie proclaimed, "We're removing the Intersect now, Sarah. It takes almost seven hours, using the protocol that minimizes stress on your brain."
"You're the expert, but you know I don't need to remind you what happened the last time. When your father didn't test it. Is it really something you want to do, with no test?" Mary asked, using a motherly tone.
"I'm not letting this chance slip by. I'm the only one who can fix this. If I don't do this now, I may lose the chance. It's too important, Sarah. Clara will be safe with Alex in there. No matter what happens," Ellie insisted.
"Ellie, you are just an analyst. And I don't have to mention Sarah's current state. I'm all you have in terms of defense. Can you take Sarah with you, into the panic room?" Mary asked.
"It's sealed to the outside. I wouldn't risk an unstable connection. She needs a constant connection for most of the night. I wish I didn't have to sacrifice your sleep, Sarah, but we can't wait. You can sleep all day tomorrow if needed, but I have to do this now. All this talking is making me anxious," she blurted, feeling like time was ticking away while they argued.
"I am not a helpless bystander," Sarah argued. "I may be out of kick boxing shape, but I can defend myself. And I can shoot a gun." She was challenging Mary to tell her she was wrong.
The thought seemed too real all of a sudden to Ellie. "My God, what have I done? Did I not think this through? Oh my God," she suddenly panicked.
Breaking the silent standoff with Mary, she turned to her sister-in-law. "Ellie, it's all right. You were doing what you thought was right. You never assigned bad motives to anyone. You're similar to your brother like that. It's my job, and your mother's, to cover for that with our skills," Sarah asserted.
"Sarah, you'll be incapacitated, like Chuck was whenever he downloaded. His was quicker, I know, but his brain could handle it. And your pregnancy makes it worse. It's me, in here with you. I won't risk leaving you alone," Ellie said, shaking her head back and forth for emphasis.
"You have me. And I have an idea about how to get you some help outside of regular channels. But I need to make a phone call first. Call Devon right now, Ellie. Tell him not to worry. I know that's hard, but we can do this," Mary coached.
July 14, 2012
Timișoara, Romania
"Charles, what is it?" Corrine yelled, asking him only because he stood closest to the computer. She quickly noted all three of them had gone ashen, muted horror and terror on their faces and in their eyes.
"My sister," Chuck breathed, as she noted how his voice shook. "She's an analyst for the CIA. Doing Intersect research. He was spying on her." Chuck stepped forward, focusing intently on the computer, bending onto one knee and taking control of the keyboard. After only a minute or so, Chuck spoke about his discovery. "The surveillance isn't initiating at this server. Poshenko hacked into a secure feed. From the Pentagon." He stopped typing, rubbing a hand down his face, over his mouth, feeling his hand come away sticky from his bleeding wounds.
"The Pentagon? Damn it, Chuck, are you serious?" Casey shouted.
"If there's some kind of double agent…" Morgan added, watching the look that passed between everyone else. "You guys already know that, right," he mumbled to himself.
"She must have eventually secured the file. If Ellie's been under surveillance the entire time…Oh my God, they know she has the software!" He started to panic, his composure slowly dissolving as the helplessness of being ten hours removed from there became stark reality.
"Someone blocked communications there. I told Beckman's secretary..." Now he was panicking, spiraling down into a thick disquiet, although it only lasted for a moment. One instant later, Chuck turned from the computer, transformed into the man Casey remembered who was willing to break Alexei Volkoff out of a maximum security prison to save Sarah. "We don't need the virus anymore, but I can modify it to get a message to them through their computer. I just need another ten minutes. Do I have it?"
"Just move, Bartowski. Stop telling us what you're gonna do and just do it," Casey growled, tipping his head to motion Corrine to the door, to act as a guard.
July 13, 2012
Oak Park, Illinois
"Something is blocking both incoming and outgoing communications from your house, Ellie," Mary said calmly, forcing it, as the situation seemed to be deteriorating around them. "Alex mentioned something before. I should have been paying better attention." Another lapse, she realized. She really was getting too old for this, she thought fatalistically. Turning to her daughter, who was coming unraveled as Mary watched, she added, "I got in touch with Devon. He freaked out, as you can imagine. But he trusts me, and Sarah, and he knows Clara is safe. I told him I'll call him on the hour from now until the download is done. If I miss, he's calling the CIA. That's the bargain we struck."
"What about Chuck?" Sarah asked ferociously, ready to pounce on the other woman.
"I don't know if it has to do with the dampener, because he's so far away, because the encryption protocol requires too much data this close to the dampened zone…" Mary was almost rattling things off randomly, it seemed.
"You can't reach him?" she said, stepping towards her almost threateningly.
The sound of Ellie sobbing out loud stopped that argument. Ellie imagined how Devon must have sounded, talking to her mother. She wished she had been the one talking to him, but hadn't trusted herself not to lose it and make him more worried. She thought of the abject fear on Alex's face when Ellie had told her to grab Clara and go through the door at the back of the closet into the panic room. Clara had been sound asleep, blissfully unaware that her surroundings had even changed. "We were supposed to tell you we were going to move back to California," she said blankly, like shock was setting in. "So we could be near Chuck and Sarah, once the baby is here. Only now-"
"Ellie, stop it," Mary said, grabbing her daughter by the shoulders. "All those things will happen, do you hear me? You just have to hold it together a little bit longer."
"I can't believe how much of a mess I've made of everything," she wept.
"Ellie, we know what you are trying to do. For us. It's going to be ok," Sarah offered, wrapping her arms around her sister-in-law, feeling her trembling. "Don't forget, Ellie, I know what you can do. I've seen you in action. You saved us from Daniel Shaw, you actually saved Chuck from him twice, and from Decker's people. You can do this. You're a lot braver than you think you are." She smiled. "That's a Bartowski family trait, Ellie."
Something about knowing Sarah had unflappable faith in her calmed her down. Her eyes focused, her breathing slowed. "Thank you, Sarah."
"Think how happy Chuck will be when he hears you're moving back to California. Focus on that, if you start to panic," she added gently.
"Speaking of Chuck," Mary said loudly, calling both Ellie and Sarah's attention to the computer. Sarah took a tentative step towards the computer, as the CIA background dissolved quickly, instead displaying what appeared to be archaic green alphanumeric characters on a black screen.
Identify, it said, a cursor blinking wildly, ticking out loud, waiting for a reply.
"What do I do?" Ellie asked, scooting her chair towards the computer.
"Something quick, so that he knows it's you," Sarah said.
Sarah watched as Ellie only typed a string of six numbers: 102490. Sarah knew exactly what it was, remembered in that instant the moment Chuck had told her the significance of that day, also remembering the look on his face when he'd turned back from hanging up her coat, the slightest slip that told her his pain was internal, but real. The instant she felt connected to him for the first time, truly connected. Sarah also watched Mary look as if she were suddenly sick, understanding in the same instant, but an entirely separate set of emotions.
Another second ticked by, and the screen displayed a string of names: Piranha, Organ, CM, and one without SB ever. SAS.
"What does that mean?" Ellie asked, worried that somehow her hope that she was communicating with her brother had been dashed.
"It's Chuck," Sarah said, her eyes misting, surprised by her own relief. "He knew I'd know what he meant. That's Chuck, Morgan, Corrine MacArthur and Casey. Safe and sound."
The dread returned when Sarah read what he typed next. Bad Pentagon actor knows you have I. Surveillance underway. Get help from GB ASAP. En route to you ASAP. ILYB.
Turning back to Sarah for the translation, Ellie waited. "I love you, Baby," Sarah whispered, embarrassed at how vulnerable she felt, translating something personal out loud to them.
"He's gonna freak out if we tell him what we're planning. He would just want everyone safe, right now," Ellie said.
"Tell him we know. Type CA namesake and lower case c SAS. SB needs minus I. SIH," Sarah instructed. "Situation in hand," she told Ellie for clarification.
"Is the situation in hand?" Ellie asked, feeling like she was lying to her brother, telling him everything was fine, when it wasn't. Her fingers flew over the keyboard in compliance with Sarah's instructions.
"Yes, it is. We'll make damn sure of that," Mary said, glancing at Sarah, a look that asked for trust met with a soft nod from her daughter-in-law, indicating that she in fact did have it.
July 14, 2012
Timișoara, Romania
Casey, Morgan, and Corrine watched as the writing on the screen dissolved almost pixel by pixel until it was dark again. He pulled the device out of the port on the computer, bolting to his feet without another explanation.
"Damn it, take him!" Chuck shouted, pointing to Poshenko, still out cold on the floor.
Chuck was already out the room, almost running, feeling the others trailing behind, Poshenko slung over Casey's shoulder like a backpack. "You called Beckman, Chuck. You need to call her again," Morgan said.
"They know. Somehow they figured it out. Sarah said they have the situation in hand. Whatever that means," he fretted.
"Charles, your mother is there, isn't she? And your wife? Aren't they-"
He stopped running only for a second to address her. Out of breath, he told her, "You don't understand. My sister has a two-year-old in that house. Between the three of us, everything we love in the world is in that house. My sister, my wife, his daughter," he added, pointing to Casey, "who is also his almost fiancee," he added again, pointing to Morgan. "My mother and my brother-in-law. I don't care how "in hand" she says it is."
"Oh Dear," she said quietly. She was silent for a few moments. "But isn't your wife a spy, Charles? Or at least she was?"
"Corrine, my wife is seven months pregnant," he said, like he was admitting defeat. "She's almost as helpless as the rest of them," he said, deflating in front of her. He watched her emerald eyes flash, a deeper understanding of what he so feared, of what he needed so desperately to protect.
"Don't underestimate Walker, Chuck. She can handle herself, even pregnant," Casey said, as they started rushing again.
Rationally, Chuck knew that was true. It was only the magnitude of what he had the potential to lose that he found catastrophically unacceptable.