A/N: Ownership of Chuck is not in Hungary, but the first part of this chapter is.
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[Conversations in this scene take place in Hungarian, but are translated into English.]
Andor Farkas supposed he should be proud of himself, but he was actually just a little annoyed. He had stood up to the Prime Minister of the country. That was a big deal in most people's eyes. The government was eager to ingratiate itself with the United States and he had been selected as the tool to do so. He had been asked, argued with, cajoled, enticed and finally threatened, then threatened some more. Only, at the end of all of that...of all the quiet pressure the government could think of to bring to bear on him, had they accepted his terms.
He was annoyed because his terms were quite reasonable and should have been accepted by the government from the very beginning. They could all have saved time and effort, not to mention aggravation. But no, he had had to endure the whole bullshit dance almost from the beginning.
At first, he had been delighted and relieved when he got the call from the Prime Minister's office. The man had just been on the phone with the President of the United States. Bora was alive and healthy and living in the United States. The Prime Minister wanted Farkas to bless the arrangement and permit the child to stay there indefinitely and anonymously. Bora Lives, he thought of the chant of the crowds. He grinned to himself. Damn right she does. Burn in hell, Szell. And you too, Fodor, you miserable prick. He had actually cheered out loud and pumped a fist into the air at the news. (But, given that he was alone in his office, he felt a trifle silly afterwards.)
But he had been named by her parents in their will as her guardian. He was the man they had trusted with her well-being until she reached adulthood. It was his responsibility, his obligation, and he took it very seriously. No matter what the government said to him or threatened to do to him, it was not a responsibility he would shirk. He had held fast and they had, eventually, and with a distinct lack of good grace, agreed.
He was going to meet the family taking care of Bora.
He had to be sure that she was with a family who would raise her well. A family who loved her and would care for her. He didn't much care that the family was American or Hungarian or Swedish or whatever. He wanted her to be safe and loved. It's what her parents would have wanted for their child. Unless he was satisfied, the Hungarian Prime Minister and the American President could both kiss his ass. He would refuse to cooperate. And, given the publicity attendant to Bora's disappearance, they needed his cooperation.
Once he had extracted that agreement from the Prime Minister's office, he was gruffly told to wait. He would be contacted, they said.
So, for the last few days, he had waited. This particular morning, he sat at his desk and tried to concentrate on his legal work. His computer made a sound designating some kind of alert. He looked up and saw, to his surprise, that his screen held the words, capitalized and on a black background: GOOD MORNING, MR. FARKAS. WE DO NOT WANT ANYONE ELSE TO INVOLVE THEMSELVES IN OUR CONVERSATION CONCERNING BORA. I HOPE YOU AGREE. PLEASE GO TO THE ELECTRONICS STORE TWO BLOCKS SOUTH OF YOUR OFFICE AND BUY A PREPAID CELL PHONE WITH CASH. WHEN YOU RETURN TO YOUR DESK, PLUG IT IN TO CHARGE IT. I WILL CALL YOU THEN. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?
Farkas read the message twice and turned to his keyboard.
The message on the screen changed and the new message read: JUST NOD YOUR HEAD IF YOU UNDERSTAND.
Farkas nodded his head while looking at the camera atop his computer screen. That was a little creepy and he made a mental note to cover it with a piece of tape when he was finished with this business.
He went out into the August heat and accomplished his errand.
Sitting back at his desk and unpacking the new phone he wondered how he would get the number to the people who wanted to call him. He was just looking at the phone to write down the new number when it rang. He stared at it in perplexity for a moment and then looked up. His computer screen read: ANSWER IT, PLEASE.
"Hello," he said tentatively.
A woman's voice speaking Hungarian said, "Good morning, Mr. Farkas. My name is Sarah." She spoke Hungarian without much of an accent, but her delivery was slightly formal, as if she had learned the language in the classroom and was not a native speaker.
"Hello, Sarah. I was just figuring out how to get this phone number to you."
She chuckled lightly and said, "Yes. That's not necessary, as you can see."
"Indeed. Neat trick. Tell me, please, how is Bora?"
"Just great. If all goes according to plan, you will see her soon. She spent the day at the beach with my mom. She's a very happy little girl, unless she's hungry. Then she can be a terror." Sarah laughed softly. "She can walk a little and is babbling some words."
"English words."
"Well, yes. English words. Mr. Farkas, I'd like your permission to install something on your computer, please. It won't hurt it. It's a security system to make your computer more secure."
"Alright. Go ahead."
"Thank you. Once the program is installed, I will call you back on this number."
"Alright," he said. The call ended.
His computer began to hum and he watched a progress bar slowly fill up on his screen. When it finished it asked him to restart his machine. He did so. When the computer was back awake and the screen on, the phone rang again.
"Thank you, Mr. Farkas," said Sarah. "From now on, please, only use this computer and this phone for communicating with me about Bora. Now if we can get down to business. Szell might not have been the only person who wants to hurt Bora. And we take her safety very seriously."
"Good. So, do I. A new security system for my computer is necessary, I suppose," he said.
"Mr. Farkas, your computer is now the most secure computer in Europe."
He chuckled and said, "So, not in danger from some Russian hacker."
She sounded as serious as a funeral director when she repeated, slowly and carefully, "Your computer is now the most secure computer system on the continent of Europe. That was not in any way an exaggeration. Not at all."
The smile left his face and his mind slipped back to the destruction of Szell and how that had been accomplished. This woman wasn't playing child's games.
"I believe you, Sarah," he said after a moment.
"Good. I'm glad you believe me. They tell me that you want to meet the people taking care of Bora. The challenge is keeping Bora's location hidden from anyone who might want to hurt her. You are being watched and..."
"What? I'm being...?"
"Yes. You are. It's your own government, but we suspect that they are not alone. And if you leave the country, there will certainly be people interested in where you go and who you meet with. Without special care, you would lead them directly to Bora."
"I understand. We can't have that. What do you have in mind?"
"My friends and I have prepared a plan for you to come to see her. I'm delivering it to your computer right now. It's very detailed. Please follow it to the letter. A great deal of thought has gone into it. You can call me back on this number if you have questions. If not, I'll see you soon."
He opened the message and quickly skimmed the instructions.
Blowing out a sigh he said, "You are turning me into a spy."
"Exactly, Mr. Farkas. Please, don't make it sound so bad. All my best friends are spies."
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Andor Farkas always enjoyed the view of the Manhattan skyline as he went across the bridge from Queens. It reminded him that this was such a vibrant city, messy and full of life. Not the calm elegance of Budapest, but a place where dynamism ruled.
So far, he had followed Sarah's instructions to the letter.
Thinking of those instructions, he twisted around in the taxi to see the traffic behind him, noticing nothing unusual. He had not seen anyone watching him either in Budapest or on the trip to New York. But she had sounded certain of that fact, and it unnerved him. In any event, he was more than prepared to go through whatever she wanted if it meant protecting Bora.
He had made an appointment to meet with the investment bankers at Goldman Sachs on Monday morning and made the flight reservations to get to New York on Thursday afternoon. Ostensibly, he was going to spend a few days in the city before his meeting. Playing tourist and enjoying himself.
He wasn't at all sure what Sarah intended. That wasn't part of this instructions, but he was sure he'd learn in time.
The taxi took him to the Hilton Hotel on Sixth Avenue, on the west side of the island. A smiling desk clerk assigned him a room and a bellman took him there. He tipped the man and closed the door. After a deep breath, he dropped his bag and his walking stick on the bed.
On the desk near the window was a single piece of paper, centered so it would be noticed. Sitting on the paper was a watch and an earpiece. The note on the paper said: PUT THE EARPIECE IN YOUR RIGHT EAR
How had Sarah's people known what room he would be assigned? How had they accessed the room to leave this equipment before he could even get here from the lobby?
He put the earpiece in and offered a somewhat tentative, "Hello."
A deep man's voice replied, "Good afternoon, Mr. Farkas. My name is Fitz. I'm going to be walking you through the next few hours."
"Good to meet you, Fitz."
"First thing, please take off your watch and put on the watch on the desk. It contains both a tracker and a microphone, allowing us to find you if we lose track of you and to hear you when you speak to us."
Farkas did so and said, "Ok. Done."
"Great. Here's what we are going to do. You are going to leave your stuff in the room...you packed the smaller bag right?"
"Yes, I did. It's inside the larger one."
"Alright, good. No need to take it with you. My guys will see to it. Anyway, you are going to go out for dinner. Walk a few blocks to the restaurant...I hope you like Italian. I made you a reservation at an Italian restaurant in the neighborhood that I like."
"Italian is fine," said Farkas.
"Good. Yeah. Who doesn't like Italian food?" Farkas chuckled. "Anyway, we are going to be in your ear the whole time. And walking to the restaurant and back to the hotel we are going to be doing something called anti-surveillance drills. We are going to ask you to stop and turn and go on, and we are going to be watching the people around you to identify who is keeping an eye on you. We've already spotted one, a guy who followed you into the hotel, but we think there are going to be more."
"One followed me into the hotel?"
"Yeah. He was a bit of an idiot. An amateur. We think there will be more out there. Hell, there's even a possibility they put this guy on you just to make us complacent. Pat ourselves on the back that we found one and stop looking for the rest. I don't know. Anyway, let me know when you are ready. You have to hit the head first?"
"The what?" asked Farkas.
"Sorry," said Fitz. "Colloquial expression. Do you have to go to the bathroom? You were on a plane for a while."
"No. I'm good. I can get started whenever you like." said Farkas.
"Great. I saw that you are wearing the clothes Sarah asked you to. That's great. Don't change. Remember to bring your walking stick."
"Ok. I'm leaving now."
"Ok. Just so you know, on this communications net we are calling you 'Counselor'...just to avoid saying your name."
Farkas left the room and walked down the hotel corridor to the elevator. There was an African American man in a business suit waiting for the elevator who nodded a silent greeting. A Middle eastern looking man joined them. All three of them got onto the elevator heading towards the lobby.
In his ear, Farkas heard Fitz say, "Billy, you have Counselor?" Then he heard two clicks, apparently an affirmative.
The elevator doors opened and Farkas began to scan the lobby, looking for the people watching him. In his ear, Fitz said, "Stop that, Counselor. Leave that to us. I don't want you to be so switched on that they get scared off. If you look oblivious, they might get careless. Head across the lobby to the north side. Leave the building onto the side street."
Farkas did so, leaving the building into the humid evening air. Fitz told him to turn left to go westward. He did, tapping the walking stick on the ground in time to his steps. Twice Fitz told him to stop and look in a shop window. He heard the conversation with the man called Billy, a man called Marco, and a man called Leo as the three men, with Fitz coordinating, considered possible tails on him. "The messenger guy?" "No, he's running past." "Leo, the business woman with the red blouse?" "Yeah, I'm on her. I'll check it out." "Counselor, turn right. Billy, cross to the other side of the street and run parallel." "Roger that." "Dropping red blouse. She's peeled off." "Right, Leo." "Yeah, Marco, what do you see?" "The idiot is still here, but I want us to take a look at the fat guy in the tee shirt. I thought they might have passed a signal." "Right, Marco, I'm on it." "Counselor, here's your destination. Reservation under your name. Leo, follow him in and sit at the bar."
Farkas turned left into the comfortable looking Italian restaurant. The host took him to a table and handed him a menu. A tough looking bald man came in and after a short conversation with the host, took a seat at the bar. A fat man came in shortly thereafter and also took a seat at the bar.
Farkas looked at the menu and Fitz said, "I recommend the veal piccata."
Farkas took the suggestion on the veal and also ordered a glass of pinot noir. Things in his ear quieted down while he ate.
He finished, paid the bill, picked up his walking stick and left the restaurant. The return to the hotel was a repeat of the outward bound trip with the instructions from Fitz going pretty consistently. As he arrived back in the hotel lobby, he heard Fitz say, "Bryce, you good?"
"Yeah, I'm in position. Let's do this."
"Counselor, head to the men's room. It's past the elevators." When Farkas was inside the lobby men's room, Fitz said, "Take the last stall. Farthest from the door. It has a sign on it that it's out of order. Take that one and take the sign inside with you."
Farkas did. He noticed that there was a mirror mounted on the back of the door to the stall. He sat down and looked at himself in the mirror. Even though he was fifty years old, his dark hair had only a smattering of gray and although his short circle beard was certainly grayer, his face was unlined. His own bluish/gray eyes stared back at him. He didn't look too old, he thought, proud that he was still in decent shape, despite the passing of the last decade.
His self-congratulatory thoughts were interrupted as the man in the stall next to him said, "Evening, Mr. Farkas. My name is Bryce. Please hand me your walking stick and jacket." Farkas handed them under the divider between the stalls. "Thank you. Room key in the pocket?"
"Yes."
"Great. Here." From under the divider, the other man handed Farkas a light-colored windbreaker. Farkas pulled it on and was pleased to see that it fit well. "Good?" asked the man.
"Yes."
"Ok, this part is more difficult. It's why the mirror is there. Here's a wig and beard." Farkas took the items from the other man. They were blond and a little shaggy. "We have to cover your hair and your real beard with something. The beard has adhesive on the back. Take your time, but you don't have to go insane to make it perfect. It only has to last across the lobby. With any luck, all the watchers will be following me anyway."
"Thank you," said Farkas. He spent a few minutes working on the disguise. "Ok, I think I'm good."
"Ok, then the last piece is a pair of glasses in the pocket of the jacket."
"Ok. They are on."
"Good. Ok, leave here a minute after I leave. Unless you want to stay and use the facilities, of course." Bryce gave a slight chuckle at his own little joke. "Follow Fitz's directions. And when you see them, tell Sarah and Chuck I said hi."
Farkas heard the other man leave. In his ear he heard Fitz say, "Right. That's one. Two. Leo?"
"Yeah, there he goes. And...and...number three moving. All following Bryce, taking the bait. Yes. We're good."
"Ok, Counselor. Come on out. Head to the front of the lobby. When you get outside I'll flash my lights at you."
In his disguise, Farkas walked out of the building and immediately saw the car pulled to the curb a bit down the block with the flashing lights. He walked over and climbed into the passenger seat. The driver was a giant redhead. He shook Farkas's hand and said, "Hey, Counselor."
"Hey, Fitz. Good to meet you. Good call on the veal, by the way."
They pulled away from the curb and, after a few blocks, turned left on 57th Street, heading west.
"Where are we going?"
"First stop New Jersey, Mr. Farkas."
"Fitz, my name is Andor. How about you call me Andy?"
"Ok, Andy. You can lose the wig and beard if you want. All the folks keeping an eye on you are now following Bryce. He's going to be you until you get back to the city."
"I hope he doesn't do anything embarrassing." Farkas took the glasses, wig and beard off and put them on the seat next to him.
"Yeah, I hear you. Some nice meals. A museum. I think he's got a ticket to a show tomorrow night. Grease, maybe? Anyway. Looks like he's going to behave. If he's about to pick up a woman in a bar, I'll be sure to stop him for you. Keep your reputation intact."
"Well, depending on the woman, it might enhance my reputation." Both men laughed. "How many were there? Watching me, I mean."
Fitz answered, "There were three. The idiot I mentioned. And then two others. But I don't think they were all together. I think it was two separate jobs."
"Huh. I didn't see anyone."
"Well, I'm not surprised. You were never trained to know what to look for. If you have the training you can spot them."
"Yeah. I'm not much of a spy," said Farkas.
"Oh, I don't know about that. I think you did pretty well for a new guy. So, Andy, you ever been to Belvárosi Disznótoros in Budapest?"
"Oh, certainly. I love that restaurant, but I haven't been in a while. It's a little expensive."
The two men settled into a pleasant conversation driving up the west side of Manhattan and across the George Washington Bridge. About a half hour on the New Jersey side of the bridge, Fitz pulled up to a gate at Teterboro Airport. He entered a code and the gate opened.
In the night, there was a small business jet standing by. All the lights were on and the door open. Fitz drove right up to it and stopped. Farkas got out and stared at the jet. He had never flown in a private jet before. Once again, he was pleasantly surprised by the vast resources of the people who had taken responsibility for Bora.
Fitz reached into the back seat of the car and took out the smaller bag Farkas had packed and left in his hotel room. Handing it to him, Fitz shook his hand with the other hand. As he did so, he said, "Safe flight, Andy. And...and I know you will make up your own mind, but I just want to tell you that... they are the finest people I have ever met. It's my honor to call them my friends."
Farkas nodded once and said, "Thank you, Fitz. Will I see you again?"
"Yeah. I'll be here when you get back. We do the whole thing we just did, except in reverse."
"Good. See you. By the way, where am I heading?"
"LA," said Fitz with a grin. "You'll be there for breakfast."
"Thanks."
Farkas got on the plane and was greeted by a steward who sat him and offered him a beverage. It seemed like only moments later that he was airborne.
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A/N2: Some of this spy stuff comes from an actual CIA operation in Moscow run by the legendary Tony Mendez. A KGB officer and his wife were defecting to the United States and were under close watch by the KGB. Even while under surveillance, it seemed that they never left the opera. (See Spy Dust by Tony and Jonna Mendez.)
A/N3: Next chapter, Farkas meets Emma and her tribe. Let's hope for the best.