For notes and disclaimer, please see part one. Also, Kiki and
hockey_princess, e-mail me at kuryakingirl@yahoo.com and I'll answer all
your questions. ;)
Previously, on the West Wing/Alias: Vaughn is impressed by the combined talent of Crystal and Sydney in constructing the plan, while Toby, recently in on the terrorist threat, thinks the plan is an awful idea. Either way, the President gives the okay, and the CIA agents buckle down to prepare for a dangerous gamble. Josh ponders his love life and lack thereof before the CIA announces an agent "died." C.J. is finally brought in to spin the story from the White House but Sam, as usual, is the last to know, and hears the news over the television at a campaign stop, worried his cousin really is dead.
It was dusk when the black SUV pulled up to Andrews Air Force Base. Vaughn was at the wheel, and presented proper credentials when stopped at the gate. Sydney sat beside him in the passenger seat, while Crystal sat in the back. All three were in business casual clothes. It was a Friday night after all.
"I'm going to have to search your gear, just to make sure it's stored properly," said the guard.
"That's not a problem," Vaughn said.
"All right, pull through, please," said the guard, returning the credentials. The SUV pulled through and pulled over. Vaughn turned off the engine and climbed out. Sydney and Vaughn headed around to open the back hatch to allow the guard to check a locker and their luggage. Crystal climbed out, pulling out her duffel bag and setting it on the ground for inspection.
As Crystal watched the guard sift through their belongings, the cellular phone in her jacket pocket began to ring. Pulling it out, she answered. "Yeah?"
"Crys?"
"Sam..."
"I've been trying to get a hold of you all week."
"I'm sorry, cuz, it's kinda been a weird week."
"How are you?"
"I'm hangin' in there; how are you?"
"Worried about you."
"There's no need for that. How's the campaign?"
"It's starting to take some serious turns for the worse."
"I'm sorry to hear that," she said honestly. "How're our guys treating you?"
"I haven't had a roommate since college, but it's not so bad."
"All right," she said with a soft smile.
"What happened to spending the night with Josh?"
"We went into planning mode. We want to micromanage everything, make sure we've got contingency plans for our contingency plans."
"What's going to happen here?" he asked quietly.
"You're going to be fine," she assured him confidently.
"What about you?"
"I'm going to protect you."
"Crystal..."
"And I'm going to be fine, too. He can't kill me. He's tried and failed."
"What if he does?"
"Will not happen."
"You're putting up this bravado and that's great for, y'know, morale of the CIA, I guess, but this is me, Crys. This is Sam. This is the guy who's seen you at rock bottom. You can tell me."
"I'm telling you, Sam, it's not going to happen. He's playing on our timetable, on our board, with our rules. Nobody's gonna die on my watch." Not again, she added in her head.
"Do you always get this determined?"
"Nobody messes with family."
"There are areas, Crys, where you take that entirely too far. This might be one of them. Your father was definitely one of them--"
"Don't bring Dad into this."
"He's the reason you joined."
"Stop."
"He's the reason you ran away for good..."
"Dammit, Sam!"
"Both our fathers were bastards, especially yours."
"Will you cut it out?"
"It's the truth and you know it. My father slept around. Your father used to beat you--"
She pulled her glasses off, pushing them up into her hair. "I want you to stop this. Save this for when I'm not in the middle of a mission."
"And if I do that, you'll say it's not a good time either. It's never a good time to discuss the truth with you. You've been in that agency so long that you don't want to listen to the truth, to see the light!"
"When this is over, I swear, we'll talk about it, but for right now I need to have my head in the game and you're gonna pull it right out!"
"Why'd you join? Why'd you say yes? It was because you finally ran away somewhere where you couldn't get back out."
"You know nothing about the Company, Sam. Nothing."
"Because you won't tell me. It's like a cult! They have you sever all family ties. Anytime anybody tries to tell you something bad about the Company, it's wrong, because the Company's always right. The Company isn't always right, Crys!"
"The Company is trying to save your ass, Sam! We've been protecting you for a week!"
"Will you ever admit why you're there? Ever?"
"This is my job, Sam. Somebody's gotta do it."
"You're not somebody."
"I'm sure as hell not a debutante. Never was. I wasn't going to go to law school like you or Dad or Uncle Norman. Med school was never in the cards for me either. I'm good at this. Why can't you accept me for who I am?"
"I do."
"The hell you do!"
"Crystal--"
"The hell you do," she repeated, her voice cold. "I have to get to work."
"Crys, wait..."
"I'll see you in California." She snapped her phone closed, dropping it back in her coat pocket before rubbing her eyes.
"Are you all right?" Sydney asked.
She looked up. "Perfectly fine."
~~~
Crystal sat in an empty conference room on Air Force One as they cruised along. She'd long since shed her jacket and sat in the comfortable leather executive chair in her khaki slacks and black button-up shirt. She'd pulled her hair back after takeoff. She stared at the wall, thinking about what Sam had said. As she'd predicted, her mind was anywhere but the game, where it needed to be focused. Sighing heavily, she removed her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She was going to have to pull it together within the next few hours.
The door to the conference room was jerked open and a gruff looking Toby entered. He was stunned to see anyone there. "I'm sorry; I thought the room was empty."
"It's all right."
He frowned. "You look familiar to me."
"I'm Rebekah Morganstern; I work for Douglas on House Intelligence," she said, only halfheartedly into the performance.
"No, that's... that's not it."
"I'm afraid it is."
"No, it's... You look... I can't put my finger on it."
"I work on the Hill," she said, looking up at him.
There was something about the way the light hit her, something about her expression, when all the pieces of family resemblance fell into place. "No you don't. You're Crystal Seaborn."
"Well, now you gotta die; you figured out my secret identity," she said flatly.
"You two look very much alike..."
"Seaborn genes are hard to overcome. By the way, who are you?"
"Toby Ziegler, White House Communications Director."
"Aah. It becomes clear now."
"You... You're Sam's cousin."
"That is not a fact I want spread across this plane, thank you very much. As I understand it, there's a whole room full of reporters on this bird."
"There are."
"Then, this information goes no farther."
"I have no intention of sharing that fact."
"All right then," she said, slipping her glasses back on.
"Do you mind if I sit with you for a moment?"
"I suppose not."
Toby sat down across from her. "I've never met anyone in Sam's family before."
"It's not a group you want to be associated with, necessarily."
"Why's that?"
"Long story."
"You don't look like a CIA agent."
"I would hope not. Kinda puts a crimp in my ability to work, y'know? No arms dealers will talk to someone who looks like a spy."
Toby offered a quirky smile. "You don't like to talk about your job."
"Loose lips sink ships."
"Uh-huh."
The door to the conference room opened again, and in walked Donna. "There you are, Toby, Congresswoman Wyatt..." She drifted off. "Ms. Morganstern."
Crystal smiled. "Hello again, Donna. Please, it's Rebekah."
Donna nodded.
"What about Congresswoman Wyatt?" prompted Toby.
"She wants to see you. She had a lengthier description of you but I forgot which exact expletives she used."
"Probably a good thing," Toby said, standing. "It was nice meeting you... Rebekah." He exited the conference room.
Crystal was quite ready to drop. Even Donna could tell. "Do you want me to go get Josh?" she offered.
Crystal looked up at the younger woman warily for a moment but nodded. "Yeah, actually... that'd be nice."
~~~
Sydney and Vaughn had found a quiet area on the plane as well, and were sitting together silently, killing time. Sydney's eyes were closed and Vaughn noted she looked quite peaceful. Her peacefulness would not last long, however. Charlie, the President's body man approached them. "Excuse me, Mr. Vaughn, Ms. Bristow," he said, conscious of the unclassified ears around them.
"Yes?" asked Vaughn.
"You have a phone call; if you'll follow me?" Sydney and Vaughn fell instep behind Charlie who led them to a small office. "No one should bother you here."
"Thanks," Sydney said softly as Vaughn picked up the phone.
"This is Vaughn."
"And this is Weiss."
"Hey, what's going on?"
"Some good news, I think."
"What's that?"
"With the help of a French informant and Will's bank account tracking, we've tracked cash from Papa Terrorist Renard to an American Airlines flight from D.C. to the L.A. area."
"You're joking..."
"That's the good news."
"Figures."
"The bad news is that he's already here. The plane touched down half an hour ago."
"And we didn't know until just now, did we?"
"Literally the moment before I called you. We even have visual confirmation, a tape from airport security showing all six men disembarking."
"He's going to want to set up shop before anything goes down, right?"
"Yeah. And we've increased Sam's security, though I don't know how much longer it's going to be before Scott Holcomb, his campaign manager, and Jack Bristow come to blows. They've uh... been getting into some strenuous arguments of late."
"Is Sam adverse to getting a new campaign manager, one we can work with?"
"He says it's the DNC's call to make."
"So, that's a yes."
"Unfortunately."
"All right... can you have someone meet us at the airport? Somebody who can take our bags so we're not leaving luggage on Air Force One?"
"You bet."
"We'll call you as soon as we land and meet up with you."
"Sounds good. We'll see you when you land."
"Thanks, man."
"Not a problem."
Vaughn hung up and looked up at Sydney. "You and Crystal pulled off a major coup."
"We did it?"
"So far," Vaughn said with a nod. "He's taken the bait. And sloppily. We have video."
She smiled broadly. "I'm going to go tell Crystal the good news. She didn't die in vain!"
With Vaughn's laughter following her, Sydney slipped out of the office. She wandered around for a moment, before finally spotting Charlie. "Do you know where Crystal is?"
"I think so," he said with a nod, leading her towards a conference room. Charlie knocked on the closed door, and when he heard Josh's muffled response, he opened the door. "Josh, is..." He drifted off when he saw Crystal curled up in Josh's arms, asleep. Charlie looked at Sydney then gestured inside.
"'Sup?" asked Josh softly.
"When she wakes up, I'm sure she'll be happy to know that we got lucky. Our gamble paid off."
"So far, so good?" asked Josh.
Sydney nodded, then turned slightly more serious. "She hasn't slept much this past week."
"I didn't figure she had," he said, glancing down at her. "Didn't figure she'd fall asleep this quickly either."
"She got into a pretty serious argument on the tarmac while we were going through security... somebody on her phone. She wandered away so we couldn't hear, but I think it drained her the most out of everything."
He nodded. "I don't think anybody's said this yet... but thanks."
"It's not necessary. We've not accomplished anything yet. We've faked the death of a CIA agent. Possibly one of the easiest deaths to fake yet. All it took was one well-placed agent asking a spokesman a question. Besides... this is our job. This is what we do."
"Still..."
"Let's just try to get through the weekend, then we'll see about giving thanks."
Josh nodded.
Sydney smiled slightly, and left the room.
~~~
When Ron Butterfield heard the news of Jordan's jaunt to California, he was less than pleased. He was less than enthusiastic. Sydney was certain he probably wished their gamble had lost. The President had immediately congratulated her but the storm cloud that was Ron Butterfield had yet to rear his ugly head.
"We can't land in Orange County," Butterfield said.
"Why not?" asked Bartlet.
"There could be an ambush; he'll have had hours of early warning."
"What, exactly, do you suggest, Agent Butterfield?" Sydney asked
"There's another airport in that vicinity that can accept Air Force One, and that's Ontario International."
"That's a forty-minute drive out of the way," said Sydney, "in another county entirely."
"Perhaps the CIA believes it's all right to risk the life of the President. People may be expendable there, but they are not in the Secret Service, particularly those who are elected leaders. All in all, we've been supportive and understanding in this ludicrous undertaking. We cannot and we will not allow this President to be injured or harmed in any way, and that means we're landing in San Bernardino County. If that, in some way, obscures your plans, I'm sorry. You're a guest on this flight. This isn't CIA One, this is Air Force One, the airplane of the President, not the DCI." Butterfield stood. "If you'll excuse me, Mr. President, I need to inform the captain of the change in flight plan."
"What about those on the ground? They've closed the '5 freeway..." said Vaughn.
"If Victor Jordan has a plan to take out the President and Sam because of your little charade... I don't want him getting a head's up that we're moving location."
"Go on, Ron," the President said.
Butterfield gave a crisp nod and exited the President's office.
"We're going to have to call Weiss back," Vaughn said quietly to Sydney.
"If you two need to use the phone, you're more than welcome to this one," Bartlet said, standing up, prompting the two CIA field agents to get to their feet as well.
"Thank you, sir," Sydney and Vaughn both said as the President slipped out. Vaughn picked up the phone and started dialing. "How long until we land?" he asked.
"With the change in destination... half an hour."
When Weiss answered, Vaughn skipped pleasantries and jumped right into what needed to be done. "There's been a change in plan; we need those agents at Ontario International and they're going to have to put the pedal to the metal to get there in time from Orange County."
"What's going on?"
"Secret Service is pissed off. You have campaign credentials for Sydney and Crystal?"
"They're with the agent who will soon be speeding towards Ontario."
"Anything else I need to be aware of?" asked Vaughn.
"I don't think so."
"Thanks, Weiss. Wheels down ETA, thirty minutes." With that, Vaughn ended the call.
~~~
Bartlet found the conference room where Josh and Crystal were holed up. "I thought I heard Donna say you were hiding," Bartlet said softly.
Josh had adjusted slightly, his legs were propped up on the conference table, and Crystal was still passed out in his lap, her head on his shoulder. "I'd stand, sir, but..."
"You had better keep your seat," said Bartlet in a mock threatening tone.
The Deputy Chief of Staff smiled a little and went back to lightly rubbing Crystal's back. "What can I do for you, Mr. President?"
"Tell me we made the right choice."
"We're doing all we can do. Leo's got Kundu. The economic package is gonna wait till Monday. Hopefully we won't literally kill Sam before we politically kill him..." He shrugged slightly. "I can't assure you that we've made all the right choices to lead us to a quiet, calm trip, but... Between terrorists and genocide... can this trip be worse?"
"If this plane goes down, I'm haunting your ass for eternity," Bartlet said, wagging a finger at him.
"Point taken."
Bartlet eased into a seat across from him. "What does your gut tell you about Sam's campaign? Is he going to win?"
"Last week... yes, ten points. This week... He's gonna have to walk on water and heal the sick to pull it off."
"On the one hand... I want him to win. On the other..."
"You want him back as a senior counselor."
Bartlet nodded.
"Right now, I'm contented to have him live," Josh said quietly.
"Amen."
"Is this going to work?"
"What?"
"The operation."
Bartlet shrugged. "There's only one way to find out."
Josh sighed slightly.
"Wishing you'd stayed home?" asked the President.
"No, sir."
"You sure?"
Josh smiled. "No."
"We should be landing shortly; you might want to wake her up."
Josh nodded. "Thank you, sir." As Bartlet slipped out, Josh gently shook her shoulder. "Crystal..." She snuggled slightly closer, which made him smile, but that wasn't quite what he was hoping for. "Crys..."
"Hm?"
"We're about to land."
"About to what?"
"Land."
"But, we were just over Kentucky..."
"Yeah, you took quite a nap there," he said gently.
She sat up and rubbed her eyes. "They should bottle you," she said, yawning. "Who needs sleeping pills, take a Josh instead."
"I don't seem to have that effect on anyone else though."
"What does that say about me, then?" she asked, easing off his lap.
"That you're tired. Exhausted."
"Hmm." She picked up her glasses, sliding them on. "I have to go to work now."
"Crystal..."
"Yeah?"
"Since you're dead and everything... why don't you come to the hotel tonight and stay with me?"
"If I'm not working," she said, taking her hair down from the ponytail and running her fingers through it.
"Seriously. You look like you've been sleep depraved for a long time, and if it helps..."
She seemed to avoid his question. "I need to find Sydney and Vaughn."
"She said he's here..."
"What?"
"She said earlier... Your plan is working."
Light came to her green eyes and a slight smile formed on her lips. "I really have to go. I'll see you later," she said, stepping into her shoes and heading out of the room. She found her fellow CIA agents sitting away from the rest of the politicos on board and sat down across from them. "He's here?"
Sydney nodded.
"And we're starting tonight, right?"
"I'm going to catch up at the headquarters with Weiss, but you two are going on to the site. Jack will be there. Kendall, too," Vaughn said, the last sentence more for Sydney's benefit than Crystal's.
"And a lot of video cameras," said Sydney. "I talked with C.J. Cregg; she said the press was going to be out in force. With the President being there, the local and White House reporters are going to be crawling all over the place."
A voice addressed the cabin, informing them they were on final approach into Ontario.
Crystal fastened her seatbelt. She was ready. They were, however, one of the last ones off the plane, prompting a quick descent down to the tarmac. Weiss and another agent were already on the ground, working with the Air Force One crew to get the agents' luggage.
"We'll see you over there," Vaughn said before he and Weiss spirited the bags to one SUV, and the other agent opened both side doors of another.
Crystal, taking the locker, slid it across the back seat before climbing in while Sydney jumped in the front passenger seat. "Let's go!" Sydney said as the agent started the car and took them out a back exit. "You have the campaign shirts?" The agent gestured towards a bag between the seats, which Sydney snatched up, pulling one shirt out for her, the other for Crystal.
"Can we beat the motorcade to the rally?" Crystal asked, having no qualms with changing her shirt in the back seat.
"We should," answered the agent.
"Excellent," Crystal said, opening the trunk beside her and pulling out a handgun.
Stay tuned...
Lines from the next installment:
"Haven't you heard? Orange County hates you."
"Get out."
"They hate you."
"Get *out!*" roared Sam.
Previously, on the West Wing/Alias: Vaughn is impressed by the combined talent of Crystal and Sydney in constructing the plan, while Toby, recently in on the terrorist threat, thinks the plan is an awful idea. Either way, the President gives the okay, and the CIA agents buckle down to prepare for a dangerous gamble. Josh ponders his love life and lack thereof before the CIA announces an agent "died." C.J. is finally brought in to spin the story from the White House but Sam, as usual, is the last to know, and hears the news over the television at a campaign stop, worried his cousin really is dead.
It was dusk when the black SUV pulled up to Andrews Air Force Base. Vaughn was at the wheel, and presented proper credentials when stopped at the gate. Sydney sat beside him in the passenger seat, while Crystal sat in the back. All three were in business casual clothes. It was a Friday night after all.
"I'm going to have to search your gear, just to make sure it's stored properly," said the guard.
"That's not a problem," Vaughn said.
"All right, pull through, please," said the guard, returning the credentials. The SUV pulled through and pulled over. Vaughn turned off the engine and climbed out. Sydney and Vaughn headed around to open the back hatch to allow the guard to check a locker and their luggage. Crystal climbed out, pulling out her duffel bag and setting it on the ground for inspection.
As Crystal watched the guard sift through their belongings, the cellular phone in her jacket pocket began to ring. Pulling it out, she answered. "Yeah?"
"Crys?"
"Sam..."
"I've been trying to get a hold of you all week."
"I'm sorry, cuz, it's kinda been a weird week."
"How are you?"
"I'm hangin' in there; how are you?"
"Worried about you."
"There's no need for that. How's the campaign?"
"It's starting to take some serious turns for the worse."
"I'm sorry to hear that," she said honestly. "How're our guys treating you?"
"I haven't had a roommate since college, but it's not so bad."
"All right," she said with a soft smile.
"What happened to spending the night with Josh?"
"We went into planning mode. We want to micromanage everything, make sure we've got contingency plans for our contingency plans."
"What's going to happen here?" he asked quietly.
"You're going to be fine," she assured him confidently.
"What about you?"
"I'm going to protect you."
"Crystal..."
"And I'm going to be fine, too. He can't kill me. He's tried and failed."
"What if he does?"
"Will not happen."
"You're putting up this bravado and that's great for, y'know, morale of the CIA, I guess, but this is me, Crys. This is Sam. This is the guy who's seen you at rock bottom. You can tell me."
"I'm telling you, Sam, it's not going to happen. He's playing on our timetable, on our board, with our rules. Nobody's gonna die on my watch." Not again, she added in her head.
"Do you always get this determined?"
"Nobody messes with family."
"There are areas, Crys, where you take that entirely too far. This might be one of them. Your father was definitely one of them--"
"Don't bring Dad into this."
"He's the reason you joined."
"Stop."
"He's the reason you ran away for good..."
"Dammit, Sam!"
"Both our fathers were bastards, especially yours."
"Will you cut it out?"
"It's the truth and you know it. My father slept around. Your father used to beat you--"
She pulled her glasses off, pushing them up into her hair. "I want you to stop this. Save this for when I'm not in the middle of a mission."
"And if I do that, you'll say it's not a good time either. It's never a good time to discuss the truth with you. You've been in that agency so long that you don't want to listen to the truth, to see the light!"
"When this is over, I swear, we'll talk about it, but for right now I need to have my head in the game and you're gonna pull it right out!"
"Why'd you join? Why'd you say yes? It was because you finally ran away somewhere where you couldn't get back out."
"You know nothing about the Company, Sam. Nothing."
"Because you won't tell me. It's like a cult! They have you sever all family ties. Anytime anybody tries to tell you something bad about the Company, it's wrong, because the Company's always right. The Company isn't always right, Crys!"
"The Company is trying to save your ass, Sam! We've been protecting you for a week!"
"Will you ever admit why you're there? Ever?"
"This is my job, Sam. Somebody's gotta do it."
"You're not somebody."
"I'm sure as hell not a debutante. Never was. I wasn't going to go to law school like you or Dad or Uncle Norman. Med school was never in the cards for me either. I'm good at this. Why can't you accept me for who I am?"
"I do."
"The hell you do!"
"Crystal--"
"The hell you do," she repeated, her voice cold. "I have to get to work."
"Crys, wait..."
"I'll see you in California." She snapped her phone closed, dropping it back in her coat pocket before rubbing her eyes.
"Are you all right?" Sydney asked.
She looked up. "Perfectly fine."
~~~
Crystal sat in an empty conference room on Air Force One as they cruised along. She'd long since shed her jacket and sat in the comfortable leather executive chair in her khaki slacks and black button-up shirt. She'd pulled her hair back after takeoff. She stared at the wall, thinking about what Sam had said. As she'd predicted, her mind was anywhere but the game, where it needed to be focused. Sighing heavily, she removed her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She was going to have to pull it together within the next few hours.
The door to the conference room was jerked open and a gruff looking Toby entered. He was stunned to see anyone there. "I'm sorry; I thought the room was empty."
"It's all right."
He frowned. "You look familiar to me."
"I'm Rebekah Morganstern; I work for Douglas on House Intelligence," she said, only halfheartedly into the performance.
"No, that's... that's not it."
"I'm afraid it is."
"No, it's... You look... I can't put my finger on it."
"I work on the Hill," she said, looking up at him.
There was something about the way the light hit her, something about her expression, when all the pieces of family resemblance fell into place. "No you don't. You're Crystal Seaborn."
"Well, now you gotta die; you figured out my secret identity," she said flatly.
"You two look very much alike..."
"Seaborn genes are hard to overcome. By the way, who are you?"
"Toby Ziegler, White House Communications Director."
"Aah. It becomes clear now."
"You... You're Sam's cousin."
"That is not a fact I want spread across this plane, thank you very much. As I understand it, there's a whole room full of reporters on this bird."
"There are."
"Then, this information goes no farther."
"I have no intention of sharing that fact."
"All right then," she said, slipping her glasses back on.
"Do you mind if I sit with you for a moment?"
"I suppose not."
Toby sat down across from her. "I've never met anyone in Sam's family before."
"It's not a group you want to be associated with, necessarily."
"Why's that?"
"Long story."
"You don't look like a CIA agent."
"I would hope not. Kinda puts a crimp in my ability to work, y'know? No arms dealers will talk to someone who looks like a spy."
Toby offered a quirky smile. "You don't like to talk about your job."
"Loose lips sink ships."
"Uh-huh."
The door to the conference room opened again, and in walked Donna. "There you are, Toby, Congresswoman Wyatt..." She drifted off. "Ms. Morganstern."
Crystal smiled. "Hello again, Donna. Please, it's Rebekah."
Donna nodded.
"What about Congresswoman Wyatt?" prompted Toby.
"She wants to see you. She had a lengthier description of you but I forgot which exact expletives she used."
"Probably a good thing," Toby said, standing. "It was nice meeting you... Rebekah." He exited the conference room.
Crystal was quite ready to drop. Even Donna could tell. "Do you want me to go get Josh?" she offered.
Crystal looked up at the younger woman warily for a moment but nodded. "Yeah, actually... that'd be nice."
~~~
Sydney and Vaughn had found a quiet area on the plane as well, and were sitting together silently, killing time. Sydney's eyes were closed and Vaughn noted she looked quite peaceful. Her peacefulness would not last long, however. Charlie, the President's body man approached them. "Excuse me, Mr. Vaughn, Ms. Bristow," he said, conscious of the unclassified ears around them.
"Yes?" asked Vaughn.
"You have a phone call; if you'll follow me?" Sydney and Vaughn fell instep behind Charlie who led them to a small office. "No one should bother you here."
"Thanks," Sydney said softly as Vaughn picked up the phone.
"This is Vaughn."
"And this is Weiss."
"Hey, what's going on?"
"Some good news, I think."
"What's that?"
"With the help of a French informant and Will's bank account tracking, we've tracked cash from Papa Terrorist Renard to an American Airlines flight from D.C. to the L.A. area."
"You're joking..."
"That's the good news."
"Figures."
"The bad news is that he's already here. The plane touched down half an hour ago."
"And we didn't know until just now, did we?"
"Literally the moment before I called you. We even have visual confirmation, a tape from airport security showing all six men disembarking."
"He's going to want to set up shop before anything goes down, right?"
"Yeah. And we've increased Sam's security, though I don't know how much longer it's going to be before Scott Holcomb, his campaign manager, and Jack Bristow come to blows. They've uh... been getting into some strenuous arguments of late."
"Is Sam adverse to getting a new campaign manager, one we can work with?"
"He says it's the DNC's call to make."
"So, that's a yes."
"Unfortunately."
"All right... can you have someone meet us at the airport? Somebody who can take our bags so we're not leaving luggage on Air Force One?"
"You bet."
"We'll call you as soon as we land and meet up with you."
"Sounds good. We'll see you when you land."
"Thanks, man."
"Not a problem."
Vaughn hung up and looked up at Sydney. "You and Crystal pulled off a major coup."
"We did it?"
"So far," Vaughn said with a nod. "He's taken the bait. And sloppily. We have video."
She smiled broadly. "I'm going to go tell Crystal the good news. She didn't die in vain!"
With Vaughn's laughter following her, Sydney slipped out of the office. She wandered around for a moment, before finally spotting Charlie. "Do you know where Crystal is?"
"I think so," he said with a nod, leading her towards a conference room. Charlie knocked on the closed door, and when he heard Josh's muffled response, he opened the door. "Josh, is..." He drifted off when he saw Crystal curled up in Josh's arms, asleep. Charlie looked at Sydney then gestured inside.
"'Sup?" asked Josh softly.
"When she wakes up, I'm sure she'll be happy to know that we got lucky. Our gamble paid off."
"So far, so good?" asked Josh.
Sydney nodded, then turned slightly more serious. "She hasn't slept much this past week."
"I didn't figure she had," he said, glancing down at her. "Didn't figure she'd fall asleep this quickly either."
"She got into a pretty serious argument on the tarmac while we were going through security... somebody on her phone. She wandered away so we couldn't hear, but I think it drained her the most out of everything."
He nodded. "I don't think anybody's said this yet... but thanks."
"It's not necessary. We've not accomplished anything yet. We've faked the death of a CIA agent. Possibly one of the easiest deaths to fake yet. All it took was one well-placed agent asking a spokesman a question. Besides... this is our job. This is what we do."
"Still..."
"Let's just try to get through the weekend, then we'll see about giving thanks."
Josh nodded.
Sydney smiled slightly, and left the room.
~~~
When Ron Butterfield heard the news of Jordan's jaunt to California, he was less than pleased. He was less than enthusiastic. Sydney was certain he probably wished their gamble had lost. The President had immediately congratulated her but the storm cloud that was Ron Butterfield had yet to rear his ugly head.
"We can't land in Orange County," Butterfield said.
"Why not?" asked Bartlet.
"There could be an ambush; he'll have had hours of early warning."
"What, exactly, do you suggest, Agent Butterfield?" Sydney asked
"There's another airport in that vicinity that can accept Air Force One, and that's Ontario International."
"That's a forty-minute drive out of the way," said Sydney, "in another county entirely."
"Perhaps the CIA believes it's all right to risk the life of the President. People may be expendable there, but they are not in the Secret Service, particularly those who are elected leaders. All in all, we've been supportive and understanding in this ludicrous undertaking. We cannot and we will not allow this President to be injured or harmed in any way, and that means we're landing in San Bernardino County. If that, in some way, obscures your plans, I'm sorry. You're a guest on this flight. This isn't CIA One, this is Air Force One, the airplane of the President, not the DCI." Butterfield stood. "If you'll excuse me, Mr. President, I need to inform the captain of the change in flight plan."
"What about those on the ground? They've closed the '5 freeway..." said Vaughn.
"If Victor Jordan has a plan to take out the President and Sam because of your little charade... I don't want him getting a head's up that we're moving location."
"Go on, Ron," the President said.
Butterfield gave a crisp nod and exited the President's office.
"We're going to have to call Weiss back," Vaughn said quietly to Sydney.
"If you two need to use the phone, you're more than welcome to this one," Bartlet said, standing up, prompting the two CIA field agents to get to their feet as well.
"Thank you, sir," Sydney and Vaughn both said as the President slipped out. Vaughn picked up the phone and started dialing. "How long until we land?" he asked.
"With the change in destination... half an hour."
When Weiss answered, Vaughn skipped pleasantries and jumped right into what needed to be done. "There's been a change in plan; we need those agents at Ontario International and they're going to have to put the pedal to the metal to get there in time from Orange County."
"What's going on?"
"Secret Service is pissed off. You have campaign credentials for Sydney and Crystal?"
"They're with the agent who will soon be speeding towards Ontario."
"Anything else I need to be aware of?" asked Vaughn.
"I don't think so."
"Thanks, Weiss. Wheels down ETA, thirty minutes." With that, Vaughn ended the call.
~~~
Bartlet found the conference room where Josh and Crystal were holed up. "I thought I heard Donna say you were hiding," Bartlet said softly.
Josh had adjusted slightly, his legs were propped up on the conference table, and Crystal was still passed out in his lap, her head on his shoulder. "I'd stand, sir, but..."
"You had better keep your seat," said Bartlet in a mock threatening tone.
The Deputy Chief of Staff smiled a little and went back to lightly rubbing Crystal's back. "What can I do for you, Mr. President?"
"Tell me we made the right choice."
"We're doing all we can do. Leo's got Kundu. The economic package is gonna wait till Monday. Hopefully we won't literally kill Sam before we politically kill him..." He shrugged slightly. "I can't assure you that we've made all the right choices to lead us to a quiet, calm trip, but... Between terrorists and genocide... can this trip be worse?"
"If this plane goes down, I'm haunting your ass for eternity," Bartlet said, wagging a finger at him.
"Point taken."
Bartlet eased into a seat across from him. "What does your gut tell you about Sam's campaign? Is he going to win?"
"Last week... yes, ten points. This week... He's gonna have to walk on water and heal the sick to pull it off."
"On the one hand... I want him to win. On the other..."
"You want him back as a senior counselor."
Bartlet nodded.
"Right now, I'm contented to have him live," Josh said quietly.
"Amen."
"Is this going to work?"
"What?"
"The operation."
Bartlet shrugged. "There's only one way to find out."
Josh sighed slightly.
"Wishing you'd stayed home?" asked the President.
"No, sir."
"You sure?"
Josh smiled. "No."
"We should be landing shortly; you might want to wake her up."
Josh nodded. "Thank you, sir." As Bartlet slipped out, Josh gently shook her shoulder. "Crystal..." She snuggled slightly closer, which made him smile, but that wasn't quite what he was hoping for. "Crys..."
"Hm?"
"We're about to land."
"About to what?"
"Land."
"But, we were just over Kentucky..."
"Yeah, you took quite a nap there," he said gently.
She sat up and rubbed her eyes. "They should bottle you," she said, yawning. "Who needs sleeping pills, take a Josh instead."
"I don't seem to have that effect on anyone else though."
"What does that say about me, then?" she asked, easing off his lap.
"That you're tired. Exhausted."
"Hmm." She picked up her glasses, sliding them on. "I have to go to work now."
"Crystal..."
"Yeah?"
"Since you're dead and everything... why don't you come to the hotel tonight and stay with me?"
"If I'm not working," she said, taking her hair down from the ponytail and running her fingers through it.
"Seriously. You look like you've been sleep depraved for a long time, and if it helps..."
She seemed to avoid his question. "I need to find Sydney and Vaughn."
"She said he's here..."
"What?"
"She said earlier... Your plan is working."
Light came to her green eyes and a slight smile formed on her lips. "I really have to go. I'll see you later," she said, stepping into her shoes and heading out of the room. She found her fellow CIA agents sitting away from the rest of the politicos on board and sat down across from them. "He's here?"
Sydney nodded.
"And we're starting tonight, right?"
"I'm going to catch up at the headquarters with Weiss, but you two are going on to the site. Jack will be there. Kendall, too," Vaughn said, the last sentence more for Sydney's benefit than Crystal's.
"And a lot of video cameras," said Sydney. "I talked with C.J. Cregg; she said the press was going to be out in force. With the President being there, the local and White House reporters are going to be crawling all over the place."
A voice addressed the cabin, informing them they were on final approach into Ontario.
Crystal fastened her seatbelt. She was ready. They were, however, one of the last ones off the plane, prompting a quick descent down to the tarmac. Weiss and another agent were already on the ground, working with the Air Force One crew to get the agents' luggage.
"We'll see you over there," Vaughn said before he and Weiss spirited the bags to one SUV, and the other agent opened both side doors of another.
Crystal, taking the locker, slid it across the back seat before climbing in while Sydney jumped in the front passenger seat. "Let's go!" Sydney said as the agent started the car and took them out a back exit. "You have the campaign shirts?" The agent gestured towards a bag between the seats, which Sydney snatched up, pulling one shirt out for her, the other for Crystal.
"Can we beat the motorcade to the rally?" Crystal asked, having no qualms with changing her shirt in the back seat.
"We should," answered the agent.
"Excellent," Crystal said, opening the trunk beside her and pulling out a handgun.
Stay tuned...
Lines from the next installment:
"Haven't you heard? Orange County hates you."
"Get out."
"They hate you."
"Get *out!*" roared Sam.