CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I regret leaving my mind
I forgot I needed it to think
And maybe to keep me alive
Can't believe I got this far with a
Head so empty
"Returning to the Fold"
The Thermals
July 14, 2012
Berlin, Germany
Chuck watched helplessly as Poshenko dumped the body of the pilot out the door of the helicopter and onto the tarmac. His face was a confused mix of emotions as he turned backward to see his three companions ducking, hunching down for safety's sake as the helicopter lifted off. Frustration, anger, and desperation fought for control-and anger won. "Damn it, Casey! He's after my sister!" he shouted, even as the grumbling engine of the helicopter started to fade as the vehicle climbed higher into the air.
"He can't get more than 100 more miles with the chopper," Gertrude told him, her voice now at a normal amplitude, as they stood in the quiet wind. "He needs to refuel. And he would need another way to get across the ocean. You have time, all of you. But you need to leave now. It's still eight hours back to where you're headed."
"What about Corrine?" Morgan asked fretfully.
"He needed some leverage and he knew it. We could have shot him out of the sky if she weren't in there. He also could have just killed her when he got away from her inside the helicopter," Casey said calmly, his rational reasoning stopping Chuck's spiraling again.
"Does your target know how to fly a military grade helicopter?" Gertrude asked, looking at Casey, but addressing the group.
"It's in the Intersect," Chuck said in frustration.
"Intersect? That thing is still wreaking havoc with you people?" Gertrude asked, her hands on her hips. Seeming to just now understand, she turned, wide-eyed to Chuck and asked, "Your target is an Intersect?"
Chuck nodded crisply, adding, "And he's after my entire family."
"Sounds like you could use another hand," Gertrude said, a question and a statement. Her deep brown hair was longer than the last time Chuck had seen her, in Florida. It hung in a thick curtain around her face and brushed past the edges of her shoulders.
Chuck's nostrils burned with the toxic smell of fuel and grease as the wind changed direction. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her men approach the crumpled body of the man lying on the ground. He could tell from their demeanor that the man was dead. He shivered involuntarily, feeling instant remorse, for the life lost because they were helping him. He turned back to Gertrude, saying, "We appreciate all your help so far, Gertrude, but we don't have the funds-"
Gertrude cut him off. "I'm offering as a friend," she said, stepping in front of him. "I know that's not how I've always dealt with you, but you're important to John. That makes you important to me."
Chuck was shocked at the charged, emotional nature of the air that surrounded them. Casey's solution to the tension was to turn and walk away, back towards the hangar door Gertrude had run out of. That being just Casey's way, Chuck accepted it without question. "Come on," she urged. "We can be in the air in about 30 minutes."
"Can I use your computer quickly before we leave? I have to try to warn them if I can," he said urgently.
"Why don't you just call your sister?" Gertrude asked.
His sentences coming out in one long stream, Chuck answered her. "Not only is Poshenko after my family, but so is someone in the U.S. government. There's a communication jammer at work in her house."
Gertrude's silence, her stern look, did nothing to make Chuck feel better at all.
"You mean to tell me underneath that rock-hard exterior, there's actually a soft, gooey center?" Morgan asked her, as he finally caught up to her and Chuck as they entered the hangar door. It was out of place in their current conversation.
"No, Morgan, underneath that rock-hard exterior is another rock-hard interior," she quipped. "It's what's inside that that you softened up, Bartowski," Gertrude added the second sentence for Chuck's ears only. "Don't tell him I told you that."
"Your secret is safe with me," Chuck said softly. Although, it wasn't really a secret anymore, at least not to him.
July 13, 2012
Oak Park, Illinois
Ellie was still uncomfortable, but she allowed Vivian into the room with Sarah, and shut the door behind her. Her nerves jangling, Ellie had needed to walk away as her mother had pulled out weapons and handed them to her new guests. She had left her mother in the midst of giving a demonstrational refresher to Hartley, turning the safety on and off, pointing it, aiming it. Vivian had just taken the gun and stuffed it down behind her back, as she had seen both her mother and Sarah do on multiple occasions. Apparently, her training was still current.
Ellie quietly shut the door, turning the handle so it didn't make a sound. She moved to the chair again, continuing her silent vigil of Sarah. Her blood pressure and pulse were still reading normal. She lay on her left side, her blonde curls fanned out on the pillow, the black headset still securely in place. Ellie could hear her breathing, still calm and regulated, though Ellie thought she sounded a little winded, like she was tired.
"I don't understand this," Vivian said to Ellie, sensing the poignant awkwardness that made the air heavy like humidity.
"The same program that turned your father into Alexei Volkoff. I'm removing it from her," Ellie explained, uncertain how much this woman knew and not willing to offer random facts.
Ellie heard Vivian gasp, as she rounded to the front of the chair, unable to miss the signs of Sarah's pregnancy. "Your mother told us Sarah was pregnant. I just assumed it was a recent development, considering the other information she told us, about her memory. Why is your brother risking everything to retrieve my mother when he's so close to becoming a father?"
"You've met my brother, haven't you?" Ellie asked sarcastically, realizing it sounded too harsh, with no basis than her previous bias, having watched Sarah suffer in delirium with pending organ failure firsthand, and not so quick to forgive.
Vivian's eyes filled with tears, and she covered her mouth with her hand. "I should have tried harder to understand. He was so caring, so sympathetic. It was easy to let someone else convince me he was disingenuous, because everyone else in that world was. But he always told me the truth, always, even when everyone around him was lying. I'd never met anyone like him. I guess it seemed too good to be real."
The glowing respect in her voice was disarming. Ellie actually smiled. "Most people who know my brother come away feeling like that. He is remarkable."
"She lost her memory, your mother said," Vivian almost whispered, unsure if Sarah could hear her or not. "I can't imagine how awful that must have been for him. For all of you." A brief break in her composure let a soft sigh escape her lips. "I was so angry, so hurt, I knew the only way I could really hurt him was to harm her. It sounds awful when I say it, but it's true. I think a part of me was jealous, as crazy as that sounds. Not the way you think," she added quickly, not wanting her to misunderstand. "I spent my entire life alone. I had never seen love the way I saw it when Charles looked at her. I'd been alone, but I'd never thought of myself as lonely, until I saw that."
Ellie's caution eased, as she felt sympathy for this poor woman, knowing what Chuck had to have seen, why he had still tried to help her. "She's better now. Chuck and Sarah will be fine. He just has to get back here." The silence was interrupted only by the quiet humming of the computer's processor as it worked.
Vivian looked up, a half smile on her face, hearing the good news. "You have my word. I won't let any harm come to her, no matter what happens. Please know that," she promised. "Their baby needs his parents," she added softly. "If I've learned anything, it's that."
July 14, 2012
Berlin, Germany
"What now, Bartowski?" Casey pressed, as he ran into Gertrude's office at the back of the hangar.
"I have to try to warn them. I haven't heard anything from Beckman yet," he said intently, grabbing the keyboard before he was even seated. The three of them stood watching him, typing so fast his fingers were a blur. After only about three minutes, Chuck shouted an expletive out loud and dashed his fist on the desktop with a thud.
"Ellie's running the program," he said once the grimace disappeared from his face. "I can't risk interrupting the program," he explained. "I don't know what will happen if I do. I can't risk Sarah that way," he swore.
"Call Beckman again. Get her on the phone, no excuses. Give them hell if they try to put you off," Casey said firmly.
Chuck grabbed his phone and dialed frantically. "It's going straight to voicemail," Chuck shouted, dread growing with each second they impotently wasted time while danger was headed toward everything in the world that mattered to him. "It's only after eight pm in Washington. Someone should be answering."
"I know you have qualms, but try Bentley. She knows what's going on," Casey said, slightly out of breath from the stress.
He was shaking his head the whole time, like he couldn't believe he had to resort to doing this. His eyes wide, his forehead furrowed, he said slowly, "Same thing. Casey, the Pentagon can't be on a communication lock down, can it?"
"No, but our friend at the Pentagon, whoever he or she is, may have selectively disabled specific communications, if they had an idea we were on to them," Casey sighed in frustration.
"This is crazy! There has to be a way!" Chuck shouted.
"The plane is ready whenever you are," Gertrude called through her office door as she leaned in, one hand grasping the door frame.
"Come on, Chuck," Casey urged. "The longer we wait, the longer we're still here and not there. Get it?"
"Wait a minute, Chuck! I remember Alex saying something about Awesome having to work a twelve hour night shift, some kind of intern orientation. It's what, seven at night in Chicago? He's not in the house. Which means you can call him," Morgan said, snapping his fingers and pointing at Chuck.
Chuck was dialing before Morgan could finish snapping his fingers.
"Chuck!" he heard before he could even say hello. "Where are you? Do you have any idea what's going on?"
Chuck could hear how desperate he sounded, guilty instantly for wreaking more havoc with his family. "We're in Berlin. Listen, Devon, I don't have time to explain. A double agent from the Pentagon and the man we tried to apprehend in Romania are potentially en route to your house. You need to call the CIA for tactical support. I can't reach Beckman or Bentley. And I used the computer before, but I can't now."
"Chuck, your mother is calling me on the hour as a checkpoint. She told me in no uncertain terms to not do that unless I don't hear from her."
"What?" he exclaimed. "No, Devon, listen to me. This guy, Poshenko, has an Intersect. And he knows about Ellie's program. He hacked into the Pentagon. Forget what they said. They need help."
"I just talked to your mother ten minutes ago. Hartley and Vivian are there. Sarah's out and she can't be moved for almost seven more hours. Alex and Clara are safe, but they're holding down the fort right now. For Sarah," he said, inflection in his voice telling Chuck he was still near hysteria.
Chuck closed his eyes, indecision tearing him in half. So many things had the potential to go wrong with Sarah it was almost ridiculous. She could flash, and lose memories, or some other awful outcome no one had yet to encounter. It had begun, so it couldn't be stopped. "All right. We're in the air in ten minutes. I'll stay in touch." He clicked off the phone and jumped to his feet.
"Let's go. Now," Chuck ordered, his face set like stone. He had reached the end of what he was capable of accomplishing here. Now he needed to go back to his family.
July 13, 2012
Pentagon, Washington, D.C.
When she shut her office door, Diane Beckman spun to see her desk. The only light shone in through the window, garish breaks in the shadows from errant beams emanating from street lights outside. It was dark, looking exactly as she'd left it just a few hours ago. It was only as she approached more closely that she saw it-the single white rose laid carefully onto her computer keyboard.
The relief that flooded her insides almost made her feel woozy. He had gotten her message, and the flower meant he was on his way to do what she had asked. He had two hours to get her the information she needed, so that she could break into the server she needed to collect her evidence. Without the backup Roan was acquiring for her, she had no proof, and was risking court martial, and worse, that this breach would go undiscovered and her team doomed without help.
A mission not involving a beautiful woman to seduce was out of his wheelhouse, he had argued with her. But it was basic spying, 101. She had known him long enough to know appealing to his ego and his status as a legendary spy was the way to get what she wanted. It was a lot of talk and manipulation, something she had thought she had ended with him a long time ago. In the end, she had broken down, and just asked him to help her. Because he was the only hope she had to finish this. Somewhere beneath it all, he cared for her as much as she cared for him. The fact that he was willing to do it, for her, spoke volumes.
But now all she could do was wait for the signal. The night was nowhere near over.
July 13, 2012
Oak Park, Illinois
"Do you feel at least a little better about it now, Hartley?" Mary asked him, as he finally seemed to be able to hold the gun without the illusion that he was holding an explosive device or a hot potato.
"As good as I could imagine I could," he admitted with a sigh. "I just feel like if it comes down to me, we're doomed anyway. I think that's a fair assessment of the situation, don't you think?"
"I know you like to worry, but, please, don't. It's going to be fine," she said, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. Mary's gaze drifted to Ellie's closed door. "I can't tell you how much Vivian reminds me of her. I had only seen it briefly before, and she was so troubled. But now, it's uncanny."
"She's a beautiful young woman," Hartley said with a sweet, soft sigh. "I wish I remembered her when she was young."
"I didn't see my children for 20 years. It left a hole that nothing ever filled. But I have them both again. It isn't the same, because nothing can make up for the years I was gone. Lucky for me, they understood why I was away. Being part of their lives again, and my granddaughter's life, is a precious gift I thought I had lost forever. Vivian is a different person now. And it's a blessing, too. Know that, while you sit here worrying. Ok?"
"What do I say to Corrine, after all these years?" he blurted out into the stillness, the question that had been gnawing at him on the inside for weeks, since he learned she was alive.
"That you love her," Mary said gently. "That's the only thing that matters, isn't it?"
"She would be well within her rights to hate me forever after everything, don't you think?" he asked, choking on the words as the dark gloom in his head descended.
"Of course she would. But I don't believe she does. The only thing she ever wanted was you." A light mist in her eyes, Mary put her fingers to the base of her throat. "The last time I talked to her was right after she shot you." Her tears began affecting her voice, weakening it, making the words coarse. "That was the single most difficult thing she had ever done in her life. And you know the things she did. That was saying a lot. She thought if she ever saw you again, and you were you, that you couldn't forgive her for that."
"She should have killed me," he whispered, his hands trembling as they rested on the table.
"You were her entire life. You and Vivian. You know why she couldn't," Mary offered.
"Thirty years are gone, Mary. Am I such a fool to hope that it can just be over, and everything will be alright?" he asked, scoffing at himself.
"Love, real love, lasts forever. No matter what," she said with certainty.
July 14, 2012
Estimated elevation 10,000 feet, somewhere over Poland
Corrine sat in the front seat of the stolen helicopter, her cuffed hands resting in her lap. She continued to feel a soft tickle at her hairline, instinctively knowing it was blood seeping from the gash hiding under her hair, inflicted when Poshenko had clubbed her over the head when she thought he was unconscious. Her only comfort at this point was the feel of the portable drive, still sashed securely against her skin. And the fact that she knew, after only having known him for a few days, that Charles Bartowski would not throw her to the wolves. He had too much of his father's goodness inside him. Much more, if she thought about it long enough.
She was helpless now, but Poshenko had some purpose for taking her along with him. What that was, she had no idea. But it didn't matter. She would have a chance to turn the tables on him, once she was out of the moving helicopter.
She could see the angry pucker on his face as she looked at his profile, her fury rising to the surface as this man became the embodiment of everything, tangible and intangible, that had kept her from her husband for more than half her life. "You know, you thought Volkoff was a creation of the CIA. Meant to take down your father and replace him. And you spent your whole life trying to obtain something that is, in effect, worthless. Do you even understand that?"
"How worthless could it be? You stayed with me for 20 years to keep me from attaining it, hmm?" he taunted.
"Right, because it's a danger to the world. But not the way you think, Poshenko. What if I told you Volkoff was actually an accident? An unintended consequence of an experiment gone awry."
"I would say you're lying," he growled.
"Am I?" she shot back. "Why would I have been in Moscow with a baby, if he weren't an accident? He wasn't supposed to turn into Volkoff permanently. He was just my husband, a sweet gentle man that had his mind and soul ripped away from him. You think you can live with it forever? There is a trail of broken, crazy people it left in its wake, you idiot. It may make you seem invincible now. But it will start to eat away at you, until you are completely destroyed, one way or the other."
She saw the subtle change, the tick that appeared under his eye. She continued, pushing him closer to the edge, where he had no control. "You've only had it for what, less than a day? Don't you have a headache? Feel like you can't concentrate? And I bet you forgot things and you can't even focus enough to know what it is that's disappeared."
"Bartowski has no issues, does he? You're lying," he growled.
"Charles Bartowski is a very unique individual. He can handle your program with no issues. He doesn't forget things, and his personality has always been intact. He can even handle more than one at a time. You, Poshenko, are no Charles Bartowski. Never forget that."
His rage got the better of him, and he lost his focus for a moment. Just long enough for her to gain the advantage. She clasped both hands together, and sent the balled fist up hard under his chin, sending him sprawling out of his chair. The deck beneath her pitched sharply, sending her tumbling backwards. She heard air whizzing as the vehicle plummeted, careening towards the ground at breakneck speed.
She pulled herself up, fighting the gravity that had her pinned down, scrambling to pull herself into the pilot's seat. She grabbed the controls, pulled as hard as she could to end the nose dive, praying that she hadn't reached the point of no return where gravity could not be overcome with the power of the engine. It took a few minutes, but her ears eventually stopped popping as it leveled off. "Who needs the damned Intersect," she spat bitterly to herself. She had done harder things than pilot a helicopter with her hands cuffed together. She reached over under the seat, seeing her gun and pulling it towards her with her foot.
A hand reached from behind her and grabbed her ankle, prying her foot away from the weapon. Another hand reached under her foot now twisted to the side and retrieved the weapon. She chopped at him with her other foot, kicking his face and knocking him backward and away from her. The helicopter started shaking unsteadily as her grip on the controls became precarious. The entire craft wobbled left to right, then forward and back as she felt him pulling on her again. She spun to kick him again, but he grabbed her entire lower leg and pulled her out of the seat and down. The controls out of her hands, the craft pitched forward sharply.
The last thing she felt before her vision faded to black was her head smashing against the windshield, a loud crunch that cracked like the sound of a baseball bat hitting it. A cloying darkness engulfed her, and she crumpled to the deck unconscious. The drive she carried under her clothes, having come loose, now skidded uselessly on the floor, unnoticed, as Poshenko dove for the pilot seat and attempted to steady the vehicle once more.