Chapter 4
A Taxpayer-Funded Murder
A/N
First, I wanted to thank everyone who's stuck with this story so far. I wholeheartedly believe you're in for an exciting ride, and I hope you continue to enjoy it. Every one of your reviews is helpful and dearly appreciated!
This is the first chapter in a week, which feels like a long time compared to prior iterations, but it's actually more in line with my intent. I kinda rushed chapters 2 and 3 (3 especially, because I thought 2 was really dry), and I want to focus more on quality than quantity. I hope you find the wait worthwhile.
Finally, particular shout-out to WillieGarvin, who let me know of a plot-hole in the making after chapter 2, and also has just been a joy to PM about the show and writing in general. Check him out if you're interested in some great A/U fics, or his works revising some of the sloppier Chuck storylines!
I
Julia and Robin were to be transferred from their medical wards to more hospitable lodgings later that afternoon. When two agents led them into an elevator, Julia noticed Robin's arm was completely healed. Before she could ask how that was possible, Robin noticed her quizzical look and gave an honest shrug.
The rooms to which they were escorted were three floors underground. Robin found the artificial lighting no less distasteful than the ward's, but at least these rooms had televisions and comfortable beds to sleep in.
The two dormitory-sized rooms were adjacent and symmetrical in layout, like in a hotel. The walls were paper thin, so Julia knew Robin was watching the same Science Channel reruns of Fringe that she was. She made a mental note to ask about her handler's opinions on the last two seasons sometime.
It was Robin's first healthy night since Waukon, so she slept like a rock. Julia, in spite of everything, managed to crash hard as well.
Without any natural lighting, neither character knew what time it was when the same agents who escorted them the night before woke them up for the experiment. Agents Edward Hernandez and Sacha Ling took Robin and Julia even further underground, to the lowest floor of the facility. The elevator opened up to an interesting underground tunnel network navigable by car. Two black, armored SUVs were stationed in front of them, and the group was divided in half, with Edward and Robin tailgating Sacha and Julia.
Robin wondered why they needed two cars. She didn't like the idea of separating from the person she was supposed to be protecting.
The cars drove for around an hour. The tunnel never seemed to branch, but it twisted and turned enough to disorient the passengers.
Finally, they stopped in front of a pale, dimly lit door with a small shatter-proof window. Inside was a modest two-room structure: an observation room with a single table and chair in the center and one-way window to the left of the entryway, lit by a bright room on the other side with white paneled walls and a large dais in the center. A security camera was positioned in the observation room, facing the window.
The quartet filed in. "Alright, Miss Howard," Agent Hernandez started, "simply enter the adjoining room and put your palm on the platform. The experiment will begin once the lights shut off. Make sure to face the mirror when you begin. This should only take about sixty seconds."
Sheepishly, Julia obeyed. She entered the other room and faced the rectangular console. On it was an electronic palm reader. How would it know my identity? she wondered. Perhaps from the genealogy website? Would they get fingerprints from that?
"Julia," the steady voice of Agent Hernandez rang through some sort of intercom system into the room, "please place your palm down on the scanner." She hadn't even realized how long she had been standing there, deep in thought; perhaps she was stalling.
Finally, she touched the black electronic screen covering the top of the platform. It flashed green and displayed a message: "LIVE SUBJECT CONFIRMED." Pretty lax on security, Julia thought.
Lights above the room turned off one by one.
Fwoom.
Fwoom.
Fwoom.
Fwoom.
The mirror in front of her lit up into a 10x20 grid of images. They flashed around just like the pictures in the glasses did, only lasting for enough time for Julia's eyes to catch them before vanishing.
Julia couldn't blink. Her eyes were fixated on the mirror. She saw everything.
Only she could see the images. Robin and the escorting agents just saw Julia staring back at them, eyes transfixed, face illuminated by the display.
So much data thrown at Julia. And then it was over.
The lights instantly switched back on. The agents in the observation room stared intently at the test subject, waiting for a reaction.
Julia was frozen. All the data she had just ingested made her head spin faster and faster and faster and—
She collapsed onto the dais, slid off, and fell limply to the floor.
Robin ran into the room, kneeling down to check Julia's pulse. It was racing. The other agents remained statuesque in the observation room.
Robin yelled to them: "Hey, I think we need a—"
Julia jolted back into consciousness.
She felt like vomiting. What just happened? She couldn't remember anything since she placed her palm on the scanner, but now she was on the floor, head pounding, with Robin crouching above her – a surprisingly anxious expression on her face.
II
Beckman watched the scene with trepidation in her office. She knew something must have happened to her subject the night she was kidnapped. Robin was probably right: who else could have known whom to abduct but one who was involved with the disappearing of her other candidates? And if that person had then returned Julia….
The Director had laid awake all night ruminating on this. Her life was riding on the success of this experiment: her superiors had already made it clear that this was her last chance to show results.
Beckman was astounded when Julia collapsed: technological advancements with the Intersect were such that a successful candidate should not have reacted to the initial upload, and even the worst failures would languish for hours while their mental state deteriorated. To just collapse like that… someone had to have tampered with Julia. No other explanation made sense.
Could that save Beckman? Could she convince her superiors Julia was a successful candidate manipulated by a third party? Could Beckman maybe even convince her superiors to let her hunt down Julia's abductor?
No… it just wouldn't work without a functioning Intersect this time. She had stalled for too long….
The Director felt a wave of cautious relief wash over her when Julia woke up. Immediately, she phoned Agent Ling.
"Administer the test," Beckman ordered bluntly.
She watched from the security camera as the agents methodically walked into the Intersect room and led Robin and Julia back out. Beckman had decent audio from the camera, but, paranoid, she turned the volume on her monitor all the way up to make sure she didn't miss anything.
"Alright, Julia," Agent Hernandez began, "I'm just going to ask you a couple simple questions. Take your time – it's not a quiz – but answer honestly. Do you understand?"
Julia nodded. Beckman noted that whatever distress Julia had shown in her countenance had given way to peaceful demeanor. Did her abductor fail? Beckman really wanted that to be the case, but it was way too early to celebrate.
"Good. Now," the Agent continued, pulling a Polaroid from his back pocket, "Julia, can you tell me what this is?"
She stared at the picture, expression blank. "It's… it's just a picture of a turtle."
"Very good! Now, I'm going to say something, and you're not going to understand what it means; just don't worry about it."
Beckman leaned forward. This was it: the pivotal moment.
"Julia: Meissa Bellatrix."
Beckman glued her eyes to Julia's face. Time slowed to a crawl. She waited. And waited. And…
Nothing happened. Julia didn't react to the activation code.
Beckman's stomach tightened. Maybe… maybe she'll still flash…. But the code was what should have engendered a response in the Intersect; not the initial upload.
The agents waited a moment: they, too, were looking for a reaction, and wanted to make sure they gave Julia enough time.
Finally, Agent Hernandez proceeded, his voice a little downcast. "Okay, Julia, final question." He held up the Polaroid again. "Once again, can you tell me what this is?"
Julia stared at it another moment; her expression grew quizzical.
"It's… still just a picture of a turtle."
The agents hung their heads.
Beckman clenched her fists. She felt the walls closing in on her.
Twenty years of searching, and finally, at the last possible moment, she finds a candidate! At the precipice of failure, Beckman had found her footing. She reached the summit… only to be pushed off before she could plant her flag.
That night, when she submitted her report on Julia Howard, she would be killed.
Her emotions consumed her. The petite Director heaved her oversized chair forward; it barely made it past her desk before crashing to the floor.
Someone ruined Beckman's experiment. Someone killed her.
Perhaps she could at least make them pay.
Beckman vindictively redialed Agent Ling. "Agent, instruct Agent Hernandez to escort Agent Miller back to her living quarters. Once they are gone, kill Miss Howard."
III
Julia watched the female agent hang up the phone and whisper something into her partner's ear. The man nodded, then addressed Robin and Julia with a slight smile: "Agent Ling has just a couple more questions for Miss Howard, but the Director has ordered me to take Robin back to her quarters immediately. Nothing to worry about; you two will be close behind."
Robin was apprehensive at this change of plans. "Pardon me, Agent Hernandez," she let out, aware of the likely breach of protocol incurred by speaking out-of-turn to a presumed superior. Hernandez turned to face her and politely let her proceed: "May I ask why the Director needs me this very instant? If it's just a couple more questions—"
The Agent gave a good-natured chuckle. "I'm sorry, Agent Miller, but you know the rules: orders are orders.
"I know you want to be protective of your first asset, but I assure you: I've worked with Agent Ling for two years now. I'd trust her with my life, as with Miss Howard's. The Director trusts her as well. Now," he held open the door to the tunnel, "please follow me to our car."
Robin stayed put. Something about those tests and that phone call… something fishy was going on….
"Agent Miller?" She snapped out of her ruminations and obediently followed Agent Hernandez out the door.
Agent Ling watched closely through the window as Robin and Edward got in their car and drove off. When they were out of sight, she let out a satisfied sigh.
"So!" she said, turning to Julia with a freakishly giddy grin, "I have just one more very quick test for you. Julia… would you please try dodging this bullet for me?" Julia flinched as Sacha whipped her service weapon from the back of her jeans and—
…
…
"No," she smirked, pointing her weapon toward the ground, "that's not right."
Julia was terrified. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think, she couldn't move. She just stood there; her eyes fixed themselves on the agent threatening her life.
"No no no no no," Sacha continued. "It's just not right. It's not right!
"You see, Julia," Agent Ling was pacing around the small room now, "my favorite part about my job is, on occasions such as these, the United States Government gives me express permission to be the cruelest, foulest beast I want. Literally, look!" She pointed at the security camera. "The Director of the CIA is watching us right now! She ordered me to do this! Isn't that just splendid?!"
Julia did not find it particularly splendid. She willed herself to move, slowly, back into a corner as the deranged agent began approaching her.
"The problem, though, about my job: I don't really get occasions such as these very often.
"I just… I need to remember to savor these moments, you know? You never know when you'll get your next.
"The last time: Hah! Two long years ago. My partner – Hernandez, whatever – his mommy didn't want him to join us. Kept screaming 'Eddy, Eddy, gimme back my Eddy,' boo-hoo-hoo. Took a quick pop in the head – it's just… it was nice in the moment, but if I could take it back, I –
"Look at me ramble on! Aargh I need to get my head on straight. Focus, Sacha, focus!
"So, anyway: I'll make you a deal." She stood over Julia, who had slowly shrunk down to the floor, and opened the adjacent door to the Intersect room. "I'm going to give you thirty seconds. If you can find an exit from this room within that time, I'll let you live! If not? Well," she trained her gun on Julia's forehead, "you get the idea."
Julia didn't move.
"Time starts now!" The chipper tone behind the gun was especially grating. "Get movin'!"
Julia knew there was no exit out of there. This agent just wanted to savor her fright. She tried to think of alternatives: could she do an end-run to the other door? That would probably just get her shot in the back. Maybe she could lunge at her attacker? But with the gun pointed straight at her head….
"Ten seconds! Come on, give it a go!"
Panicked, Julia lunged into the room. The paneling on the walls – maybe somehow she would get extremely lucky and find a secret?
"Five seconds!" The agent strode calmly into the room as Julia attempted to get as far away from her as possible.
"Three!"
Of course, the paneling was solid.
"Two!"
Julia backed to the wall, breathing heavily.
"One!"
She closed her eyes.
Bang!
The shot nearly deafened Julia.
But she was still breathing.
She felt warm liquid pool around her left leg, and after a moment, excruciating pain radiating from her ankle.
She fell over to her right, gripping at her leg, vainly attempting to stem the bleeding.
Sacha skipped toward Julia, laughing maniacally. "Oh," she cheered, giving a twirl, "it's just orGASmic!" Neither Julia nor the narrator could tell whether she was exaggerating.
Finally, Julia felt it: the pen in her pocket. The one Betelgeuse had given her. The one she could flash on. …Maybe?
"Oh, what should I blow off next?"
Julia hastily pulled the pen out, looking it over in attempt to force a flash. Nothing happened.
Sacha watched Julia with glee. "How about an arm?"
Julia clicked the pen to expose a nib sharpened like a spear tip. The combination of the sound of the click, the sight of the sharp instrument, and the terror welling in her breast finally forced the flash. She saw herself flinging the pen at the precise thrust, angle, and arc to reach its target with sufficient force, and reflexively managed to replicate her vision with impeccable muscle memory.
The result: the pen impaled Sacha's carotid artery. She fell back, dropping the gun as she put her hand to her neck, wondering whether to pull the pen out or leave it in.
Julia saw her chance. She reached for the gun. Her ankle screamed floods of agonizing pain, but she managed to take hold of the weapon.
She pointed at the body that lay nearly perpendicular to her own and fired as many times as she could. Most embedded into her target, though in Julia's condition, she couldn't manage perfect accuracy. By the end, however, Agent Ling was scattered in pieces all around the Intersect room.
Julia, however, was far from out of the woods: her foot may have been amputated from the wound, and the blood loss would kill her if she didn't act fast. She managed to pull the belt off from her jeans, push herself up (excruciatingly), and tie it tightly above the gunshot wound as a tourniquet.
But that was all she could do: there was no one to call, no help to request. And she couldn't walk in her condition.
She laid back down.
Is this how it ends? All she wanted was to find her family. The U.S. Government killed her just for that?
At least she took her killer with her.
Julia took a deep breath, tasted the salty tears streaming down her cheeks, and passed out.
IV
Beckman didn't want to watch the proceedings. She couldn't.
She regretted giving the order moments after she hung up with Agent Ling. But by then, she feared it was too late.
The Director was a mess. Her head was spinning; terror, rage, and depression tumbled around like bricks in a front-loading dryer.
She threw up into her trash can.
Finally, she resolved to call back the agent. Maybe that freak hadn't executed her order yet after all?
No response.
Reluctantly, she pulled the video feed back up and witnessed the gruesome result of her actions.