CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
She got sunset on her breath now
I inhaled just a little bit
Now I got no fear of death now
"40 Day Dream"
Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros
July 14, 2012
Oak Park, Illinois
"Dad!" Alex yelled, running from Morgan's side and into Casey's arms. Her ponytail looked loose, like she had slept on it, her clothing wrinkled and disheveled, a sight Morgan was unused to. Casey looked mildly uncomfortable at the display, but returned the hug with gusto just the same.
"I called Devon to let him know everyone is safe," Morgan announced, side stepping the pile of glass that Mary had swept towards the middle of the kitchen floor. "Devon's on his way to get Clara."
"Alex, you need to go with him. The CIA can get you all someplace safe," Casey told her.
"Why, Dad? What else is going on?" she asked him, moving back to Morgan's side.
"Another bad dude we need to take out before this is all over," Morgan told her. She looked back at him, her blue eyes reflecting her worry back at him. Inside the panic room was nearly soundproof, but she had heard the distant popping sounds that she knew were gunshots, keeping Clara comfortable and sleeping, though she herself had been neither comfortable nor sleeping.
"Everyone needs to go except Chuck, Morgan, Gertrude and I, plus the back up team and Gertrude's team," Casey announced. "This guy's an Intersect. He can tear this whole place apart by himself. Everyone, including Walker, should not be here. It won't be safe and you need to be out of harm's way."
"Casey, you actually think Sarah's gonna just go quietly while Chuck is here fighting the big bad dude with us? Have you not learned anything in all this time?" Morgan said sarcastically.
"Normally, I would agree with you. But Walker's very pregnant. Do you actually think Chuck is gonna let her stay, knowing what could happen?" Casey said.
"I think that's going to be a Charah argument for the ages is what I think," Morgan said under his breath.
XXX
"Listen, Sarah, I know this is the last thing on your mind right now, but you've been awake for almost 24 hours straight, with no food or hydration for 10 hours," Ellie said, a motherly tone to her voice. "In your third trimester, that's an unacceptable situation."
"Ellie, really, I'm fine. I was lying down-" Sarah started, as she sat on the sofa, adjusting the pillows behind her back for comfort's sake.
"With a computer program frying your brain for eight hours," Chuck said to her over his shoulder, as he was seated at the computer. He stopped typing, turning the top half of his body to face her. "Ellie's right, Baby. You have to take care of yourself," he insisted.
"This is what it's gonna be like from now until I give birth, isn't it?" Sarah asked Ellie, shaking her head in wonder.
"We're trying to have it not be now, Sarah. You have two months to go. Premature labor can be disastrous this early. That's why," Ellie pushed.
"All right, guys, check the phone. I found the frequency they were jamming the house on and destabilized it. Call Beckman again," he said, the last bit directed at Bentley.
"She may still be unreachable, Bartowski," Bentley informed him. "I'm fairly certain she figured out who was behind all of this. She needs to tread carefully, taking down the big guns."
"The line's clear, Chuck," Ellie announced. "You did it."
"Who is it, Bentley? Who was spying on Ellie?" Chuck asked deliberately.
"Lieutenant General Arthur Meriwether," she proclaimed, projecting a calm aura, just as she realized internally that she had not said his name out loud as the mastermind behind all of their current problems. Her tell, a soft twitch under her eye, was caught by no one else in the room.
"What?" he asked, spinning completely around in his chair. The last time he had seen General Meriwether had been right before Daniel Shaw had killed his father. Meriwether had arrested General Beckman, and Sarah and Casey, after he had escaped with his father.
"It's an epic for the ages, Bartowski, and in case you haven't noticed yet, time is of the essence here. When you need to know, you will be informed," she barked, dismissing his shock with a crisp tilt of her head.
Chuck turned back to the computer, deciding to focus on something he could fix, as opposed to the needling worry about how they could hope to eventually confront a three-star general on his own turf. A man who, it seemed now, gave Daniel Shaw the authority to eliminate his entire team two years ago. He could feel Sarah's eyes on him, but he was racing against time to find the most serious threat to everyone's safety.
"Sarah, come on," Ellie said firmly, pulling her up with a grip on Sarah's upper arm, a huffing tug as Sarah had sunk into the cushions on the sofa. "Food and juice, right now. I know it's super early in the morning, but your blood sugar is likely taking a dive. Let's go. We won't be long," she called into the room to everyone. Truth was, she was still feeling off kilter, and taking care of Sarah was a comfort-something she felt confident and knowledgeable about, and using her skills acted as solace.
Chuck turned only slightly, a soft smile on his face as he saw Sarah, looking flustered as Ellie led her out, as she hated being pampered or babied in any way. Sarah saw it on his face, how worried he was about her, so she relented, mainly as a way to help him focus on what he was doing, so he would not be distracted by thoughts of concern. On her way out the door, she smiled at Chuck, then shut the door. Her genuine smile, the one he had known forever, so comforting yet so new, was as good as an embrace. He settled into the chair, and started searching for Poshenko.
It took almost ten minutes, but Chuck managed to hack into the satellite surveillance at every airport within fifty miles of Chicago. He already had the data from the work he had done on the plane, using a twenty minute buffer zone in both directions from the estimated time of arrival. The black and white pictures clicked on and off as he scanned them, knowing what he was looking for based on his previous investigation.
"Bingo," he said to himself, attracting Bentley's attention. She moved to stand behind him. He glanced back quickly to acknowledge her. "Midway International Airport. Flight plan filed with air traffic control matches the projected telemetry. ETA is…" He turned, looking at the clock, counting in his head, "45 minutes. Which means one hour give or take, for us here."
Bentley didn't even acknowledge him, just spun on one heel and walked away crisply, out of the office and shutting the door. One hour felt like forever, and tacked onto the endless night that had now become another day, it was approaching infinity.
July 14, 2012
Washington, D.C.
Diane Beckman stood in the corridor, once again letting the timer run down while the surveillance camera was temporarily offline. Only this time, she was counting as she waited for Roan to return. She wasn't really sure she wanted to know how he was making his way past the security checkpoints she had circumvented by crawling on her hands and knees. She had faith that he would succeed, just not caring to know how he was actually going about it.
The time still ticked down, until there was less than ten seconds, but just in the nick of time, as she was moving through the door to avoid the cameras as they turned back on, she saw him, slinking through the last checkpoint door before it closed with a swooshing click. She spun, confident he was behind her, and walked calmly away in the opposite direction. The air of authority settled over her, and she moved deliberately now, a force to be reckoned with.
She strolled through her office door, waiting, counting in her head, until she heard the footfalls fast approaching behind her. Roan slipped in after her just as her door shut. He wasted no time, pulling the small drive out of his pocket and handing it to her. "Absolutely right, Diane. On all counts. Everything on the data drive I pulled from the backups at Langley are also on that drive. Encrypted on his computer. Pretty brazen of him, if you ask me, considering how you described all of it, how secret they were supposed to keep all of this."
"He doesn't have that many people he has to answer to any more, at his level. The only person who could implicate him is slowly going insane in a hole in the ground in the middle of nowhere," she told him. "He probably would have gotten away with it too, if he hadn't messed with my team. He's going to rue the day he ever crossed me."
"So now what?" he asked her.
She looked at him, pulling out the drive and shaking it at him as she spoke. "There's a file on this drive that I know is there, but that I need an expert to decrypt. That's my proof. Irrefutable proof."
"Well, then, let's get it to your expert? What are we waiting for?" he said gently.
July 14, 2012
Oak Park, Illinois
Bentley was back in the room with Chuck when he had switched to trying to hack into General Beckman's computer. Too much had happened and he had been out of contact with her for too long. If Meriwether was blocking her communications, and she hadn't had access to a burner phone, which he thought was likely since he would most likely have heard something, her computer was the only means left.
"Bartowski, are you hacking the DNI mainframe?" Bentley accused, a dark edge to her tone.
Not evenly slightly intimidated, Chuck looked up at her. "Do you have a better idea for contacting Beckman? Because I don't. And we're running out of time."
Ignoring her, he turned back to the computer. His fingers tapped furiously at the keys and the screen flashed back and forth between scrolling rows of numbers and letters, and background pictograms that flashed and then disappeared. Once the screen stabilized, and he saw the connection flashing, he sighed with relief. "Please be in your office," he mumbled to himself.
He heard Bentley behind him, blowing out her breath in a tight puff. "You're in? That quickly?" she asked pointedly. He was too focused on what he was doing to even really hear her. And he most certainly missed the minutest of slips in her composure, a grudging respect growing for someone she had once believed to be just an overrated nerd.
July 14, 2012
Washington, D.C.
"Diane, come and look at this," Roan called as he stood behind her desk as she approached from the other side.
Identify blinked in pale green letters across the blackened background. She hurried around the desk to see her computer screen.
"Yes," she yelled triumphantly, slamming the drive in her hand down hard on the desktop so she had both hands free.
She started typing GDB but was interrupted as Roan grabbed one wrist and held it, asking her, "How do you know that's safe?"
She extracted her wrist from his hand, firmly but not dramatically, and then hit enter. She responded by saying to Roan, "There's only one person I know who could have broken straight through all the DNI safety protocols like this." At Roan's single raised eyebrow, she added, with exasperation, "Charles Bartowski." She pointed a tiny, slender finger at him. "And don't say it, Roan, I don't want to hear it."
"I would never speak ill of the nerd-turned-spy that saved your ass, what, is it two or three times?" he said with half a smile.
"More times than you did, smart ass," she quipped, grateful for the banter that was easing the tension of this never ending day and night.
"Ho, ho, touche, my flower," he laughed.
She directed her attention back to the screen. JB on scene. C/C/M in US w EW/SB/MB. CM retaken by P. P is I. Reinforced. T minus 40 and counting.
"What the hell is all that gibberish supposed to mean?" Roan asked her.
"You're a spy, damn it. Act like it. It's coded. Looks like our friend here," she pointed to the drive on the desk, "made his move. Bentley made it there in time to stop them. But they've got a bigger problem, although it sounds like they've got help."
"You got all that from that?" he said, gesturing with an open palm at the screen.
"That's why I'm a general, Roan," she said wryly. She typed a message back. Need help. Situation critical. Sending file to EW. Must help Orion OLT.
Thankfully at least that he stopped asking her to explain, she grabbed the drive and plugged it into her computer. It took almost five minutes to transfer, and another five for her to transfer it over Chuck's secure connection to Eleanor Woodcomb's computer in Chicago. She waited, hoping he understood what she wanted. She was rewarded when she saw the response: File received. T minus 30 and counting. SIH.
As the connection was disengaged, the letters melting away as the background changed, Roan asked the question. "Ok….OLT? What is that?"
"One last time, Roan," she said, her voice heavy, the teasing banter no longer appropriate as the mood changed. A single nod from him told her he understood.
July 14, 2012
Oak Park, Illinois
"No, I am most certainly not leaving!" Sarah said, raising her voice, speaking to Chuck but projecting her voice for everyone in the room to hear, because she was in effect arguing with all of them.
"Look, Sarah, I get it. But this is different," Chuck said, gesturing with both hands outstretched towards her. "You're pregnant. Very pregnant. If you had known you were pregnant in Florida, you wouldn't have done what you did. You know everything that happened after that. This is too dangerous!"
"Wait a minute," Gertrude cut in, "You were pregnant on that mission, Walker?"
"Long story, but yes. There's fine print on those tests, you know. Sometimes you can take the test too early," Sarah said, her face getting red as her ire edged up a notch. Turning back to her husband, she added, "But the point, Chuck, is that I can still defend myself. And your sister. Who needs protecting to do what Beckman asked while you're trying to take out this Intersect."
"Sarah, Chuck is right," Ellie insisted, her face pale and pinched with worry, now that she had volunteered to help Beckman again. Telling Devon she needed to stay as he'd walked away with Clara in his arms, flanked by Alex McHugh, had been difficult. He was close to tears, but he understood. Once she saw the whole file, she knew she could do what Beckman needed her to do. She just needed time. "You have to think of the baby. I know it's difficult, a huge change from the life you used to have. But if this life is the one you want now, you have to be around to live it. You know?"
"I'm not tackling the front line, or taking out a row of assassins with my fists. I'm defense. I can fire a gun just as well as anyone here. It has nothing to do with being pregnant," she argued.
"Sarah," Chuck said, trying to keep his voice level, leaving out the 'probably better than anyone' that he thought automatically. "It's not the shooting the gun part. It's getting shot at that I want you safe from." He walked to her, closing the space between them with two strides. "We're too close now, Sarah. I can't go back, I can't-" He sucked in his breath, afraid that he would become too emotional in front of everyone.
"Chuck," she said softly, placing both of her hands against his chest as they stood there together. "Your sister put herself between me and potential bullets. I'm not leaving her here alone. I won't do it. And don't volunteer your mother. Ellie needs me, Chuck. I can do this, without putting the baby in danger. Trust me, Chuck," she insisted.
He had more faith in her than he had in anything else. It cleaved him in half like the blade of a guillotine, one side believing her and the other terrified for their unborn child. Sarah watched him close his eyes as he struggled.
From farther in the background, Mary spoke up. "Chuck's not volunteering me. I'm volunteering myself. I can tell from your voice, Sarah, that no one is moving you out of here. But you aren't alone. The two of us stay here, with Ellie." Mary nodded slightly at Sarah. "I promise you I will do everything in my power to keep them safe." He was slow to relent, but Chuck finally bowed his head in resignation, knowing now, again, everything he loved had just shifted back into harm's way again.
"Don't worry, Chuck," Sarah said, softly enough for only his ears in the crowded room. "I love you," she added with a whisper, moving one hand from his face and touching his cheek.
She had told him she loved him before all of her memories had returned, and he'd believed her, because it had been true. But her face as she looked up at him, softened with the emotion, the full experience of all five years of their relationship added layers of depth and intensity he recognized but hadn't seen in a very long time. It felt as if a giant fist had clenched around his heart, the tenderness rinsing down inside. "I love you, too. Both of you," he added, whispering in her ear, placing his hand gently against her protruding stomach. "That's why I am worried." She brushed her lips softly against his as a token of reassurance.
XXX
"I'm still scanning the security feed at the airport," Chuck told Ellie, as she pulled her chair up to the computer, prepared to work as quickly as possible on the file General Beckman had sent them.
"What does this have to do with Dad, Chuck?" Ellie asked quietly. "Other than what we already know, from before."
"The guy Bentley was talking about before. He's one of the reasons why you and Devon ended up having to save us. I didn't know about it until today. I guess Beckman's had suspicions for a while. I'm not sure what the connection is to Dad, but I'm sure we'll find out before this is all over," he said softly.
The picture on the screen caught his eye, and he froze the footage he was looking at. "That's him. That's Poshenko. Boots on ground, repeat, boots on ground," he said, pulling his communication device up to his mouth and speaking the last sentence. The invisible timer was set. Timed perfectly, Chuck knew he was a total of anywhere between 25 and 21 minutes away, provided he left the airport less than five minutes after landing, which was possible.
"Who's that, Chuck?" Ellie asked, pointing to a shadowy figure, lurking away from the air craft's door as the plane sat on the tarmac.
He strained his eyes to see, expelling a gust of air as he recognized the person. "That's Corrine," Chuck said, unable to hide his smile, knowing she was safe, at least precariously right now, but alive. He looked closely at the video, seeing her hands still cuffed together in front of her, slinking away into the darkness. Had she feigned unconsciousness? He wasn't sure, but he believed she was trying to escape from him. How did her escape affect Poshenko and his plans?
He didn't worry about how she would find him, or get away from the airport. She was a spy after all, living in hiding with a dangerous man for 20 years. She would find a way. Secretly, he was gratified, because he had another ally in this coming fight. Fatigue ravaged him now, but his adrenaline had taken over. Three hours of sleep in 36 was nothing, at least for the Intersect.