NOTES: The 'Lyell Museum of Science and Natural History' is fictional, but it's based loosely on the Field Museum in Chicago. In my world, it's Los Angeles' answer to the Field, a major scientific institution and a major tourist attraction.
At one point Sarah refers to 'echelons above reality'. That's a military jargon for high-ranking personnel, so high ranking that they are disconnected from reality 'on the ground'.
Chuck and Ellie's discussion about when his daughters were born refers to details that will be revealed in subsequent stories.
CHUCK vs. THE NO-WIN QUESTION CHAPTER 12: Brothers and Sisters...
Somewhere, just past dawn local time...
There were no clocks or watches available, though Tommy Delgado had a good enough personal time sense to know that he had been held in this compound for over twenty-four hours, and that it bad been roughly thirty-six hours since the breakout.
Delgado had only learned that the breakout was coming within twenty-four hours before it happened, and he had not been sure it was for real until one of his guards had suddenly shot the other, opened the cell, and informed him that it was time to go. Normally, Delgado would have been worried that this might be some sort of trick, a set-up for 'killed while trying to escape' in the classic formula. Such a consideration hardly applied to prisoners in the Ebony One secret prison. If the JIA wanted him dead, all they had to do was kill him, since he was being held in secret.
He had assessed the situation rapidly, and it had been clear to him that there had been no choice to be made. The guard had shot another guard on the spot, and he was hearing explosions in the distance. Delgado had realized that he was either going to be cooperating with the supposed extraction, or dying. If he refused to leave they would either kill him or incapacitate him and take him with them anyway. On balance, Delgado decided, it was better to cooperate. Delgado was nothing if not pragmatic. Pragmatism had served him well in his career, both in the CIA and as a key member of the organization called FULCRUM.
Truthfully, Delgado had not expected to ever breathe the free air again. FULCRUM had been effectively out of business for a decade, and Delgado had few illusions about the chances of his being released. In fact, it was something of a puzzle to him why he was still alive, once FULCRUM was no longer a factor. It would have been very simple for his captors to kill him, and he had very little utility to them once the conspiracy had he been a part of was defunct. He had no illusions that they lacked the necessary ruthlessness, but he had never been able to come up with a reason why they kept him alive.
Although...the extraction operation had almost had the feel of 'old times'. He had no idea who was orchestrating it, or who provided the personnel, funding, and equipment, but somehow...it felt like a FULCRUM operation. Smooth, efficient, not sadistic or deliberately cruel, but utterly ruthless and prepared to do whatever was necessary to achieve the mission goal. The operation had been superbly planned, and the personnel executing it had been competent enough to carry it out, and even modify the plan 'on the fly' as necessary to maintain the mission. FULCRUM's watchwords had been 'efficiency' and 'by whatever means necessary', and this extraction had been in that precise mold.
The helicopters had carried Delgado, and the other extractees, into the mountain range to the east, and there they had been transferred to waiting vans. The helicopters had been destroyed to remove any evidence, and the vans had carried the blindfolded and ear-plugged extractees on an hours-long road journey. Delgado had no way to know how far they had gone, but his time sense told him the time on the road had been about six hours.
Six hours would have been enough to travel upwards of four hundred miles on the road, at reasonable speeds. Of course, Delgado had no way to know if they had traveled in a straight line, a twisting path, or even doubled back on themselves. He knew his current location could potentially be anywhere in a circle eight hundred miles wide. When they had arrived, Delgado had been transferred from the van to a windowless but comfortable room with a bunk, a table, and a comfortable chair, and a bathroom, and there he had been left with instructions to clean up and rest.
There was no reason not to do that, and by the time he had cleaned up and put on the clean clothes that had been left in the room, a tray of food had been brought in by two well-armed blue-uniformed men. Delgado was professionally approving but slightly amused by their cautious behavior as they delivered the food.
Do they seriously expect me to try and escape? I don't know where I am, I'm surrounded by armed men, I don't know the local situation or terrain or conditions, I have no contacts and resources to flee to, and it's a sure bet the government has a 'kill on sight' order in place on me since the extraction. No, better to say here and wait and see...at least for now.
The food was hot and fresh, a pork chop with some kind of apple glaze, mashed potatoes with garlic butter, fresh mixed vegetables, and decent coffee. It was easily and quite literally the best meal Delgado had eaten in over ten years. He might very well have simply changed prisons, for all he knew, but so far, his current captors were feeding him well.
When he finished his meal, he stretched out on the bunk and slept for several hours, and shortly after awakening, an escort of four armed men had arrived to bring him to meet someone. This time he had no blindfold, as they walked through the corridors of what appeared to be a paramilitary facility of some sort. There were more of the blue-uniformed armed guards at the corridor junctions and near some doors, and they appeared to be alert and well trained. The corridors were spotless, the 'atmosphere' purposeful.
Hmmm...somebody has gone to a lot of effort in this, Delgado mused, as they walked through the maze of corridors. Somebody with some substantial resources. I counted at least thirty men before I lost count, and this place could not have been cheap to set up. So they're well-funded and highly motivated, and connected enough to pull off that extraction with inside help. Except for the fancy blue uniforms, it feels like FULCRUM, but that's impossible...isn't it?
Eventually they reached a room that held a table, with two chairs on opposite sides. Delgado was directed into one of the chairs, on the well-lit side of the small room. The other side of the room was in deep shadow, and there was a man sitting in the other chair in the shadows. The light was dim enough that Delgado could be sure of little other than that it was a male, apparently wearing a conventional, if expensive, three-piece suit with a loud red tie.
"Good morning, Mr. Delgado," the man in the shadows said. "Or should I call you Shadowwalker? Or perhaps you would prefer I refer to your CIA serial identity number, let's see, if I recall correctly, wasn't it J43DM?
My old CIA codename, Delgado thought. Does he know about-?
"Or perhaps you would prefer I use your FULCRUM codename, 'Maestro' I believe?"
"It would appear," Delgado said, calmly, "that this is your party. Given that, I'll answer to whatever name you prefer. I assume I'm here for some particular reason?"
The man in the shadows chuckled rather pleasantly, his voice deep, slightly gravelly, but firm and steady. Delgado could not tell, in the shadows, anything about the man except that he appeared to be on the tall side. Still, Delgado was certain that he had heard that voice somewhere before. It was at the edge of his mind...
"Of course," Shadow-man said. "You might call this a job interview, actually, Mr. Delgado."
"Really?" Delgado said, keeping his voice calm. In fact, he was fairly calm. Self-discipline had never been a problem for Tommy Delgado. "Who would be hiring? And for what job?"
"The job is multifaceted," Shadow-man said. "And as for who is hiring, surely you've guessed. FULCRUM wants you back, Mr. Delgado."
Delgado actually blinked. For a moment he gaped, and then he reasserted his self-control, cursing himself for the lapse. He had just displayed a dozen 'tells', and he knew it.
"I had been told that FULCRUM...ah...declared bankruptcy...some years ago," Delgado finally said.
Shadow-man chuckled again. It was a refreshingly normal, entirely sane-sounding chuckle.
"Ah, that's actually rather a good analogy, Mr. Delgado," Shadow-man said. "Bankruptcy doesn't always mean that a business closes its doors forever, you know. Sometimes, bankruptcy can mean reorganization, streamlining, a chance to recover. FULCRUM came very close to being wiped out ten years ago, it's true. But the root of FULCRUM survived, and has been growing back since."
Delgado hesitated, then decided that there was little point in hesitation. He was at their mercy, if they wanted him dead he would die. He might as well satisfy his curiosity.
"In the old days," Delgado said, "most of those of us who made up FULCRUM never knew that FULCRUM was being run from behind the scenes by the Ring Elders. I myself only learned of that after I was rotting in a cell at Ebony One. Did the entire Ring survive?"
Shadow-man actually broke out laughing. It was a deep, hearty laugh, quite pleasant to hear, cheerful and happy.
"Thank you, Mr. Delgado, it's been too long since I had a good laugh," Shadow-man said, still chuckling. "The Ring Elders are one with yesterday's snows, I fear. And no loss. The Elders were dangerous and powerful because of their positions, their wealth, and their connections, but not because of their own competence. Oh, they did have some competent subordinates. Their Director, he was competent, I grant, and their Director turned agent Daniel Shaw against the CIA. But Shaw and the Director could hardly make up for ineptitude on the scale of the Elders."
Shadow-man broke out laughing again. "Seriously, what kind of elite conspirator issues his clandestine operatives a fancy, weird-looking round cell phone that is guaranteed to draw attention if anyone sees it? I mean honestly, they might at least have learned from Get Smart and issued shoe phones! That would have been less conspicuous!"
Wait a minute-you mean that story was true?! I heard about that, but I though it was some kind of a joke!
"Conspicuous communications," Delgado said, "as opposed to armed men running around in fancy blue uniforms? That's not exactly inconspicuous, either!"
"Nor are they meant to be," Shadow-man said. "Our strike forces are FULCRUM's reserve power, and training for the coming day when they'll be needed quite openly. In the meantime, they are kept hidden, and when they do strike currently they don't wear their uniforms. FULCRUM is far more than simply a conspiracy of intelligence agents, Mr. Delgado, just as it was before, only more so. Our goals remain unchanged.
"As for the Ring, they and the founders of FULCRUM entered into an arrangement. The Ring Elders thought they were buying ownership, but they were gravely mistaken. They were being used, and what their money was going for was closer to rent than purchase.
"No, the Ring Elders provided much of the early funding for FULCRUM," Shadow-man went on, "and of course it's usually true that he that pays the band calls the tune. But that doesn't mean that he that pays the band is competent to play in the band! The Elders had no clue what a reservoir of talent and knowledge they had in FULCRUM! If they had been smart, they'd have studied FULCRUM and applied what they learned to make their other subordinate organizations equally as capable and effective. But 'smart' is one thing the Elders never came close to being.
"No," Shadow-man went on, "FULCRUM always had its own internal, parallel command structure, one the Elders were blissfully unaware of. When Carmichael destroyed the Ring, and most of FULCRUM with it, that innermost core survived, in deep secrecy, and began to rebuild almost immediately. We've been reconstituting FULCRUM ever since, slowly, steadily, carefully, and above all competently. Patience was our watchword, secrecy our lodestar. We've quietly absorbed the most competent remnants of the other former Ring organizations. We've recruited people in the FBI, the CIA, the NSA, the DIA, the State Department, all branches of the military, most State Governments, and our reach extends around the world, though admittedly still more thinly. We're strongly represented within most European intelligence apparats, however, and as time goes on we shall solidify our presence in the other major nations.
"We're actually more deeply penetrated into the system now, both domestically and internationally, than we were before Bryce Larkin revealed us to the JIA leadership the first time."
Delgado felt a surge of fury flood over him at that name. He was not a man to let emotional reactions rule him, but that name made self-control a struggle.
Larkin. That damned Larkin. It was his doing, he cost us the Intersect, he revealed us to the Feds, he was the one who put me in that damned cell over a decade ago. If it wasn't for Larkin...if it wasn't for Larkin...
Delgado shook off that thought. How many nights had he gone to sleep in his metal cage, with that thought pulsing in his brain, echoing from neuron to neuron. If not for Larkin...who could say what might have been? FULCRUM had been almost ready, another two or three years, and there would have been no stopping them. But then Larkin had discovered them, revealed them. It was both an ideological and a personal hate for Delgado, even now he could remember Larkin and Bartowski babbling at each other in that gibberish that somehow let Larkin defeat him. There was another name to hate, Bartowski...between the three of them, Larkin, Bartowski, and the mysterious Carmichael... both Delgado's personal life and the cause he had dedicated his life to had been overthrown so suddenly that it still seemed impossible to credit.
"FULCRUM has risen again," Shadow-man said quietly, confidently. His voice sounded calm, rational, sane, no maniacal rants or unstable edge. "We've recovered our strength. Our sources of funding are greater now than they were in the days of the Ring, and we're free of the dead weight of the Ring Elders holding us back. But we want the best people we can get for every job, and you were certainly one of Old FULCRUM's best, Mr. Delgado. It's time for you to take your place in the New FULCRUM."
The Lyell Museum of Science and Natural History, Los Angeles, CA, 9:00 a.m. local time...
The Lyell Museum was many things. It was a museum, a center for research, a tourist attraction on a scale to make it a darling of the Greater Los Angeles Chamber of Commerce and tourist boards, and it was a local rival to the legendary Field Museum in Chicago. It was a large complex, occupying several buildings, and it would require more than one day's time to see everything there was to see in the public areas.
On this particular morning, the Lyell Museum was being visited by a small party of adults and children associated with Carmichael Industries, along with a larger continent of security personnel unobtrusively moving through the crowds with them. Their presence had been prearranged between the leadership of C.I. and the governing board of the Lyell Museum.
The visiting party proper consisted of the man and woman who more or less were 'Carmichael Industries', at least in the corporate sense, and their children. On this fine morning, they were touring the section of the Lyell devoted to geology and natural history and paleontology, and just then, they were observing the Museum's impressive gem and mineral collection.
"Wow!" Clara Woodcomb breathed, as she looked at the sparkling gemstones in the transparent case. "That's what I call gorgeous!"
The eleven year old was standing in a long wide corridor that housed the Lyell Museum's gem and mineral collection. Transparent cases lined both walls, holding a variety of minerals and stones, of varying degrees of scientific interest and aesthetic beauty. Free standing displays in mid-hall held particularly interesting or attractive specimens. This particular case, however, was roped off behind red velvet ropes and watched over by closed circuit cameras and armed guards. The reason for this concern was simple: the case contained several examples of precious gemstones that were of considerable value.
Under the bright lights, resting on black velvet in the case, were small diamonds flashing as the viewer moved, rubies like crystalized blood on the black background, sapphires the color of the sky and bright green emeralds.
"They are gorgeous, aren't they honey?" her mother asked her, as mother and daughter stood together looking at the gemstones. "Especially the diamonds."
"Not these diamonds," five-year-old Liam Woodcomb said, looking at another case. "They look like borin' ol' rocks!"
"That's because they haven't been cut or polished yet," Chuck told his nephew. "That's what diamonds look like when you first dig them out of the ground!"
"I'll bet no girl would want a ring with that kinda diamond!" the little boy said with a laugh.
"Not unless she was smart, dweeb," his older sister commented. "I'd take that diamond! The plaque says it would be worth about ninety thousand dollars if you faceted it and polished it! I could have some fun with ninety grand!"
"Fer what?" the boy asked.
"Yes, what exactly would you do with ninety thousand dollars, Clara?" Ellie asked her daughter with a meaningful look.
"Oh, I'd think of something," almost-twelve-year-old Clara said with a smirk.
"Betcha it'd involve Keith!" Stephanie giggled, teasingly. "Keith is all she thinks about anymore!"
"Shut up, Stephie!" Clara retorted angrily. "Or should I mention-"
"Clara!" Ellie snapped. "Watch your tone, and no tattling!"
Realizing she needed to backtrack, the eleven year old nodded. "Sorry, Mom," she said, sounding at least slightly contrite.
Chuck smiled. He and Ellie had raised their children under what amounted to one roof, or at least their houses were joined side-by-side. Clara and Liam and Charlotte-Mary and Stephanie were cousins by blood, but they acted for all the world like siblings...including some very sibling-like friction and fighting at times. On the other hand, the four of them tended to unite instantly when anyone else messed with any one of them, and Clara was very protective of all three of the younger children. In fact, sometimes she sounded to Chuck a great deal like her mother when she was being the protective big sister to her brother and cousins.
Which suited Chuck fine. He and Ellie had grown up with only each other most of the time, he was glad their children had more than that.
"Okay, Clara, now tell me about this Keith," Ellie ordered her daughter firmly.
Chuck saw his niece give a smirking Stephanie a 'later for you' glare, as she started explaining to her mother about how she was lately spending a lot of time with Keith Neil, the twelve year old son of Ed Neil in the Security Department of Carmichael Industries. Chuck had been aware of that for a few weeks.
Maybe I should reprimand Stephie for tattling, too, Chuck mused, but then again, Ellie does need to know Clara's starting to notice boys. I've still got a few years left before I have to deal with that...thank Heaven. I am SO not ready for that!
"I am SO not ready for this, Little Brother," he heard Ellie say, and he turned his head to see that she had come over to join him by the display that showed the details of how emeralds were mined. "I can't believe she has a boyfriend already!"
"I don't know if I'd call Keith a boyfriend...quite. But yeah, they're kinda sorta in that space. When they're together they can't stop looking at each other."
"How old is this Keith?"
"Twelve," Chuck said. "He's about four months older than Clara."
"This can't be happening yet, I'm not prepared! I need her to stay eleven until I can figure this out!"
"Is that an option?" Chuck asked with a smile. "Are you saying I can keep Stephie and Charlotte-Mary six for longer than a year? Who do I need to see to make that happen?"
Ellie sighed. "How long would you keep them six if you could?"
"Well, maybe...forever?" Chuck said with a soft laugh. "I wouldn't really, of course. But yeah, they're growing up so fast, and our kids are all too smart for their own good. You do know that, don't you?"
"I've known that for a long time, Little Brother."
Chuck looked down at his sister, noticing that she was suppressing yawns and that her eyes were slightly red.
Ellie Woodcomb had arrived late the night before, after catching two 'red eye' flights from Naples back to Los Angeles, with a brief stopover, and she had only slept for a few hours after arriving back home. She had flown home to confer with her brother about the situation in Italy, matters were delicate and best discussed face-to-face. In the meantime, though, this was a day that had been planned for weeks, a trip to the museum for the Woodcomb and Bartowski offspring, and since she was home that day, Ellie was not about to miss out on it, even if it meant she lost some sleep.
Like the Field Museum in Chicago, the Lyell Museum was a major public attraction, and a point of municipal pride for the City of Los Angeles and its surrounding metropolitan area. Indeed, there was a certain mostly friendly rivalry between the Lyell and the Field.
Every year, thousands of people passed through the immense public displays of the Lyell Museum, but for Chuck Bartowski and Ellie Woodcomb, bringing their respective broods to visit the fascinating place presented unusual complications.
There were downsides to being the children of wealthy and connected parents, after all, along with the obvious advantages. Especially when those wealthy and connected parents were part of the global 'shadow world', with enemies who expressed their opinions with knives, bullets and bombs as well as words and lawsuits. Taking their children to the Lyell Museum involved security preparations. Along with Chuck and Ellie and their children, there were Carmichael Industries Security operatives present all over the Museum, some openly and some incognito. The Museum had been scouted before they arrived, and there were people and machines quietly monitoring the area for signs of trouble.
Chuck looked over at his daughters, who were gazing in rapt fascination at a video display that showed a raw natural diamond being converted into a gemstone.
"Look at this!" Clara exclaimed. Chuck and Ellie walked over to case she was standing near, which held a genuinely beautiful example of jewelry: a silver necklace, the chain fine-wrought and set with tiny diamonds. The necklace boasted a large green square-cut emerald with diamond accents. Even in artificial light, the gem practically blazed with green flame, Chuck suspected it would be dazzling in sunlight.
"Now that I would like to have!" Clara said.
"Well, if you save your allowance for about, oh...six hundred years, give or take a little-well, actually mostly give, it would probably need a little more time than that-you might be able to buy it from the Museum," Chuck said with a smile.
"Say, Mom! My birthday is coming up! You could get me that for my birthday!"
Chuck could see that Clara was joking, the girl certainly knew better than that, of course.
"I could," Ellie nodded, "assuming the Museum would sell it, but I most certainly won't!"
"I know," Clara said, "but you can't blame me for wishing!"
"Actually, I can't," Ellie whispered to Chuck. "It's gorgeous! And there are still days I can't believe that I really could buy something like that, and not even miss the money!"
Chuck understood perfectly. He and Ellie had grown up with a missing mother, as well as a father who was not quite there even while he was still there, and who had also finally gone missing himself, leaving a barely-seventeen year old girl to conceal the absence of any legal adult in the family and to care for her 14 year old brother. They had managed, or more accurately, Ellie had managed for both of them, but it had never been easy, and money had always been tight in the Bartowski household.
"I know," Chuck nodded. "I actually had to fight the temptation to buy a Ferrari not too long ago. I mean I could have paid cash for it and driven it off the lot that day if I wanted! Not bad for you and me, huh? I can remember when we ate bologna sandwiches for supper every day for a week because we couldn't afford to go the store and keep the lights on at the same time!"
"Hey! I happen to think I made very good bologna sandwiches!" Ellie laughed.
"They were the best I ever ate," Chuck assured her, "as bologna sandwiches go, that is! But just think, Sis, if we wanted to we could dine on lobster and caviar every day for a week now."
"Don't get cocky, Little Brother," his older sister warned him, her 'big sister' voice in place.
"Daddy?" Stephanie asked. "Can we go see the DINOSAUR now?!"
"Not quite yet, Baby," Chuck said. "But we'll get there soon!"
Chuck smiled as he answered. Stephanie was crazy about anything to do with dinosaurs, and had been since he could remember. He was not sure how many girls shared that interest, which was of course common in little boys, but Stephanie definitely did, and she had gotten Charlotte-Mary onboard with it lately. Ever since she heard about the new dinosaur display at the Lyell Museum, she had been wanting to come see it and show it to Charlotte-Mary.
One of the Field Museum's long time claims to fame was a skeleton of a Tyrannosaurus rex, named 'Sue'. In the course of the previous year, though, the Lyell Museum had come into possession of a true find in paleontology, a nearly-complete and well-preserved skeleton of an apatasaurus, and a nearly-as-good allosaurus skeleton as well, though the later was not quite as complete as the one in Chicago. Both were now on display and drawing huge crowds, and Stephanie had been figuratively bouncing up and down with excitement to see them since her mother had told her about them.
A little over an hour later, after touring some more displays and halls, the Woodcomb-Bartowski party finally reached the great central hall of the main building, where the new finds were on display. Three stories high, with balconies at the second and third levels, the great central hall was a truly huge chamber. Even so, its current occupants needed that space!
Chuck and Ellie and their children entered the main all on the second floor balcony, and came face-to-'face' with a head the size of a car! The head was attached to a neck that reached down to an immense body, and behind that body stretched a tail that was easily as long as the body. It was a recreation of the original creature, and the skeleton on which it was based was right beside it, in the same pose, and even Chuck found that actually seeing it took his breath away at the sheer size. It hardly seemed possible that a real animal could have been that huge!
Beside him, Charlotte-Mary's mouth was hanging open, and Stephanie was literally jumping up and down with excitement.
"See Char! Just lika told ya! It's super-big! Super-duper big! And lookit those legs, they're bigger'n trees!"
That was a slight exaggeration, Chuck mused. According to the information plaques, the skeleton, and the life-like mockup beside it, were both about 80 feet long. The head was about sixteen feet above the floor in both the skeleton and the model, meaning that even from the second-level balcony, they had to look slightly up at it. The model was made with a 'skin' that looked reptilian, and all in all, Chuck mused, this would have been a seriously impressive animal in life!
Stephanie was running around the balcony, trying to get a look at the immense display from all sides, and Charlotte-Mary was right with her. Chuck started to tell his girls to be quieter and behave themselves, but the crowd was thin that morning and the balcony was mostly empty, so he let them enjoy their moment.
"Mom says that they ate plants," Stephanie was telling Charlotte-Mary as they came running up from the other side, having encircled the hall. "Just plants! And that's why their teeth are so funny-shaped!"
A few minutes later, the party was on the ground floor, and the immense skeleton and model were even more impressive from that angle. Chuck recalled an incident, in his life as an agent, in which he had been uncomfortably close to an angry African elephant. That had been frightening and impressive, but this creature would dwarf any elephant!'
The other prize on display was an allosaurus, a meat-eating dinosaur that had the same basic body plan as the more famous tyrannosaurs, but smaller. Still, it was impressive enough in its mounted skeleton and side-by-side model. It had a mouth full of sharp teeth, was almost three times Chuck's height and a good 27 feet long, and looked as if it might be a swift runner.
No doubt about it, Chuck mused, I wouldn't want to meet one of those babies unless I had John Casey with me, with his favorite gear in hand! Look at those teeth!
Charlotte-Mary was obviously impressed as well, because she grabbed her father's hand as they looked at the meat-eating skeleton, with the long, sharp teeth in the immense skull.
"Wow!" Charlotte-Mary whispered, "there were monsters! I knew it! Monsters are real!"
"Mom says this model is wrong, though," Stephanie said, having walked over to looked up at the allosaur model more closely. She was as close as the railing would let her get. Chuck was keeping a close eye on her, it would not have shocked him if the little brunette tried to get past the railing to touch the displays. She had a look in her eyes, behind those cute little glasses that corrected her slight near-sightedness, that told Chuck her curiosity was likely to override her caution.
"How's it wrong, Stephie?" Charlotte-Mary asked.
"Well...Mom says it really oughta have feathers!"
The little brunette sounded almost offended at the idea of the enormous, scary meat-eating dinosaur being covered in feathers.
Charlotte-Mary looked at the skeleton, the model beside it, and giggled. "That's silly! Monsters don't have feathers! Birds have feathers!"
"I know!" Stephanie replied, looking back at Chuck and Charlotte-Mary. "It's really stupid! But Mom says they pro'ly had feathers!"
"What about the other one, the big one?!" the little blond said, pointing over at the immense apatasaur skeleton and model. The model beside the skeleton lacked any feathers.
"Mom says nobody knows 'bout that one," Stephanie replied. "But she told me the meat-eaters pro'ly had lots a feathers all over 'em!"
"Did they squawk like birds?" Charlotte-Mary asked.
Stephanie giggled. "I dunno! But that's why it's stupid!"
Chuck smiled indulgently as he listened to his daughters. He actually understood their reaction to the idea of the dinosaurs having feathers. For a moment his memory flashed back to when he was 13 and watching the old Jurassic Park movie, the first one, in a dark theater. He remembered his breath catching in his throat as the two kids in the movie were sitting in the empty cafeteria, and the shadows of the velociraptors appeared. The reptilian predators had been genuinely frightening in that movie, (even if he had later learned that the movie makers had mislabeled them, actual velociraptors had been a smaller breed).
But in his mind's eye, if he recast that scene with the terrible predators covered in bright feathers, even if they were just as dangerous, they just weren't anywhere close to as scary. Somehow one did not think of birds as scary.
Then Chuck suddenly recalled the legend of the thunderbird, common across many of the native tribes of North America, and reconsidered. Okay, maybe giant birds can be scary. But still...
They ended up spending a couple of hours examining the skeletons and models, Stephanie wanted to look at them from every possible angle, she and Charlotte-Mary climbed up to the second and third level balconies, looked at the displays from every ground-level angle they could find, and were clearly having a glorious time. Clara and Liam were interested, too, though Clara less so than her brother. Finally, though, Chuck and Ellie gathered their respective offspring, and informed them that it was time to go find some lunch. It required a bit of paternal insistence to drag Stephanie away from the displays, but the promise of a chocolate milk shake helped put her into more cooperative mood.
Later, as they drove back toward Carmichael Estates in the big van, Chuck and Ellie found the time for a quiet conversation, as the kids rode in the back, entertaining themselves with various electronic distractions. They had quite a bit to talk about, and the conversation did not end when they got home.
Mojave Training Center, CA, 6:30 p.m. local time...
Sarah Walker settled back into a sofa in her 'trailer', a glass with a small amount of wine in her hand, enjoying the air conditioned cool of the trailer after a hot day outside with her trainees. Two remained on the sick list, though the victim of the bark scorpions was now much improved, and expected to recover. The ten healthy trainees had been drilled all day on what had gone wrong with the exercise the day before, and informed that they would be receiving another month of overall training before attempting this exercise again.
After the day's training work had been finished, Sarah had taken time for a decent dinner, this one hot and fresh, and returned to her trailer. A hot shower had eased some of the tension from her muscles, and now, clad in a robe, she rested on a sofa, sipping her wine and contemplating her situation.
That morning, before any other business, Sarah had informed Zondra and Carina about the 'rectrans' project, and their reaction had been much like her own initial response, a mixture of raw fury, disbelief, and dismay. They had agreed that the first thing to do was to find out if Zondra and Carina already had their own implanted transmitters, and that this was best done secretly and on their own. Each woman had contacts with medical skills that could help them discover if they had been 'implanted', and they agreed that it was better to seek this information separately for secrecy's sake. Once they knew if the other Senior CATs were 'implanted', they could meet again to consider what they should do about this JIA's secret plan.
One thing Sarah knew they would need to do is figure out a way to check out the other CATs to see who was already 'tagged', and to figure out some way to keep the unimplanted CATs from being implanted. Simply finding out who already had implants and who did not, in a quiet way, promised to be a challenge, and learning that was just the beginning! Sarah, Zondra, and Carina had agreed to meet again in a few days to plot their next move, and her friends had left on their errands that day.
So, Sarah mused, the three us have to figure out which of our ladies, and ourselves, is implanted, who isn't, and how to deal with the implants that are there and keep the others free of it. Along with that, we have to figure out who is leaking critical information about CAT operations, and how and why, and plug that leak...which looks like it might be coming from someone among the high higher-ups. Plus keeping our official and ongoing CAT operations on track as we do!
Plus, Sarah thought to herself, there's something else going on. The entire JIA network is buzzing with top secret messages today, something just happened that the higher ups are not telling us. Nobody in the echelons above reality are responding to anything, they're all 'in conference', or 'temporarily out of the office', whatever it is, it's stirred the system up like a poked hornet's nest!
Oh well, there's nothing like a full plate, Sarah mused savagely.
Of course, along with all that, Sarah had her own personal issues to think about, and now that the day was over and she had some time to herself, those issues were pushing back to the front of her mind.
As Chuck had promised, he had sent her what information he had about what her father was involved with in Moscow. By now the pages of information were fine dust scattered on the desert wind, but Sarah had read it all and knew it by heart.
Unfortunately, there was not as much information as Sarah would have liked. She now knew that the name, or at least the name she was using, of her father's new girlfriend was Darya Kamkin. Chuck had not been able to ascertain whether that was her actual name or not, because his background check had to be done quickly and without attracting any attention. She was apparently in her early fifties, and had no criminal record, at least under that name. Still, C.I. had tracked enough of her background to find that she had been involved or was suspected of being involved in various cons and crimes in Moscow, St. Petersburg, Yekaterinburg, and Rostov. Additionally, she had apparently often operated in Kiev and Odessa in Ukraine, and was suspected of some activity in Berlin. She was known to speak Russian, French, and English.
Well, that fits, Sarah mused. I'm pretty sure Dad doesn't speak Russian! But then again, he learns so fast...I wouldn't be shocked if he's already picking it up.
There had been a black-and-white image on one the now-disintegrated sheets. The image had been taken via a telephoto lens, and showed an attractive older woman, with shoulder-length hair. The grayscale image did not show color, but according to the accompanying documentation, the woman was a blonde, either naturally or by dye.
Sarah recalled thinking, as she studied the image, that this Darya Kamkin actually looked a little like her mother Emma.
Why not? Sarah mused as she sat in her trailer. Most people have a type, after all.
There had been other images as well, pictures taken at a distance of Jack, Darya, and their aids and guards in various places in Moscow, talking to businessmen and public officials of the city, or just pictures of Jack and Darya eating at restaurants. Most of the pictures were at a distance, but a couple of them were close enough to make out details, including one of Jack and Darya eating lunch at some outdoor café. Sarah had to admit that her father and this Russian woman definitely looked as if they were infatuated in that picture. Sarah had stared at the image for a long time, her emotions a conflicted roil, even as the paper had blackened and disintegrated.
Of course there was one other picture, one that had had her gripping the blackening paper more tightly as she looked at it. It was Jack, 'Darya', and a woman in a meeting with some Muscovite mining executives, and the woman with Jack and Darya was all too familiar to Sarah.
Wild Card herself, Sarah had thought in anger and fear as she looked at that picture, that disguise is pretty good but I would know that bitch anywhere, disguise or not. Standing right there with Dad...hell, she could be Dad's daughter in that picture, for all anybody knows...what has she gotten my father into?!
The information had been sparser on the details of the operation her father was working. Apparently, he and this 'Darya' were acting as go-betweens for several very wealthy Muscovite businessmen and some European businessmen. It was here that Sarah felt her heart starting to race again, because some of those men were not just wealthy but politically connected, some of them were directly associated with Putin and Medvedev and others of the highest of the higher ups in the Russian Federation government. It was not reassuring to Sarah to learn that her father was working an angle at only one step of removal from such dangerous men.
What added to her worry was that she still did not quite understand the scam. She knew who they were interacting with, but not why, and not how Wild Card was involved, other than providing translators and security. What exactly what her father selling, or pretending to sell? What was Wild Card's angle? Chuck's information gave her teasing hints. The part of Sarah Walker that was Jenny Burton, con artist and criminal, could 'read between the lines' and get hints of what they might be doing, but she still couldn't make out the end game.
If Dad's not very careful, Sarah thought fearfully, the 'end game' could be just exactly that! Damn it, Dad, why can't you play it safe just once? Do you have to keep upping the ante? Do you have any idea how dangerous what you're doing is? How much trouble you could be in with just one misstep?
Sarah finally got up to turn in, it was early yet, but she was exhausted, and suddenly she just wanted to shut out the world for a few hours.
Carmichael Estates, CA, 9:00 p.m. local time...
Chuck stood in the doorway of the bedroom his daughters shared, looking at his greatest treasures as they slept peacefully in their beds. Each girl had her favorite stuffed animal snuggled close to her, the covers tucked around her neck. They had been in bed for some time, since they were still suffering from the punishment for their adventure on the roof a few days before.
"Going to stand there watching them all night, Little Brother?" the voice of his sister asked him quietly. Chuck turned to see Ellie standing in the central hallway of his half the residence, smiling at him.
"Maybe," Chuck replied. "They're my favorite sight, you know."
"Oh, I know," Ellie laughed softly. "Everyone who knows you knows, Chuck."
"I take it people realize I'm compromised," Chuck laughed. "Well, I am. It's no use hiding it."
"So how long are you going to keep them going to bed early?"
"I think another week," Chuck said. "They were actually up on the roof, Ellie. The freaking roof! Just picture the two of them crawling along the length of the house on the roof, that's what I saw when I got home that night. I think it scared me out of ten years of my life! They can go to bed early for a couple of weeks and consider themselves lucky!"
"Emma told me you ended up letting them eat some of those chocolate chips they purloined," Ellie said with a smirk. "Which, by the way, if I didn't already know it, is proof that neither of their mothers was lying about the identity of the father of her child. I can still remember Mom throwing fits when she'd find you hiding in the coat closet eating chocolate chips when you were three or four years old! Like father like daughters!"
Chuck blushed, then said, "Well, they had gone to so much trouble to get them..."
"And..." Ellie prodded. "I know you have more mixed feelings about that incident than you're telling, Chuck. Talk to me."
Chuck hesitated. Part of him wanted to talk about it, and part of him was not sure who to tell. But then he looked at Ellie and remembered that this was his big sister. The one person who had always been on his side, no matter what. The person who had actually raised him, after their mother left and their father had...changed. A scared teenager who had managed to get her even more terrified little brother and herself through it when their father finally vanished. The single person he trusted most on Earth.
"You need to look at those video files, Sis," Chuck finally said, looking back at his daughters in their beds. "Yeah, they were up to mischief and put themselves in danger on that roof and tried to hide it all...but they were working together so perfectly! Each one had the other's back. You could just tell.
"They've got so many strikes against them, really," Chuck went on after a quiet moment. Ellie said nothing, but was listening closely, and her smile spoke volumes. "It would be so easy for them to hate each other, you know? One father, two different mothers...and their mothers don't entirely like each other."
Sarah actually broke out into a soft chuckle. "Little Brother, you know you have a gift for understatement."
Chuck smiled back, then sighed. "I made such a mess of things, Sis. I'm not...exactly...sorry, because I could never regret Charlotte-Mary or Stephanie, no matter what. But that doesn't change the fact that I really screwed up. My daughters have different mothers, were born out of wedlock, I mean I always held the kind of guy that knocks up girls like a jerk in contempt, and then I did it myself. I remember several girls in my high school class that ended up getting pregnant, and the fathers displayed an amazing superpower: they vanished into thin air! I always swore I'd be responsible, and then-"
Chuck shrugged. "So much for that."
Ellie shook her head, and said fiercely, "No, Chuck! No! You didn't disappear. And if you screwed up, you had a little help! Sarah and Stephie's mom were not exactly naïve teenagers when they got pregnant, you know! Those two were and are both pretty much the polar opposite of 'naïve', Chuck! I'm pretty sure you didn't force either one to do anything! And I'm pretty sure it wasn't you who sabotaged the birth control in either case, either!"
"I still should have been more careful," Chuck said. Then he blushed and laughed. "It's not like I didn't know where babies come from! I still remember the day you made sure I knew that, and what not to do to avoid it! You specifically told me that the only certain birth control is, I believe you said, 'keep your pants zipped and their skirts down'!"
Ellie blushed too. That had been a slightly mortifying conversation for both of them. It really should have been their father who had that discussion with a young Chuck...but in practice, like so many other necessary things, it had ended up falling on the teenaged shoulders of Ellie Bartowski.
"Well, somebody had to tell you," Ellie said, and laughed.
Chuck looked at his sister. "Did you really demand DNA tests from both of them when you found out they were pregnant?"
"Yes," Ellie said with a nod. "As a matter of fact, I did. I wasn't being Sarah's friend or anything else but your Overprotective Big Sister that day. And Overprotective Big Sister was looking at two pregnant women who happened to both be trained professional liars, and Overprotective Big Sister wanted proof!"
"I was kinda out of touch at the time, of course," Chuck said. "But Morgan told me what happened later, when I made it out."
Ellie leaned her head against Chuck's shoulder. "And another thing, Little Brother, before you're too hard on yourself! Most of the sleazes you're comparing yourself to do disappear promptly when her belly starts to swell, but you were the opposite! Those guys don't usually even want to admit they had anything to do with it, you couldn't acknowledge your children fast enough! You were filing the papers to make sure they were both legally Bartowski's even before they were born! And I might add that you've changed ten diapers for every one either of their mothers have done, too.
"Maybe you messed up, Chuck, but you didn't mess up alone, and you're nothing like the guys you were comparing yourself to!" Ellie asserted firmly.
They were quiet for a moment, then Chuck said, "Anyway, what I was saying before was that it would be so easy for Stephie and Char to end up hating each other, especially given the tension between their mothers. Plus there are problems with being heiresses. They're in line to inherit billions of dollars, and that can be as much a curse as a blessing.
"So...I've always counted it as a great lucky break, a blessing, that they get along as well as they do. Oh, I know they argue constantly...but even when they're arguing you can't separate them! And they actually prefer to share a bedroom, even when I've got plenty of spare rooms they could have to themselves. Maybe that'll change eventually, but right now they like being together even when they're fighting!
"I've actively been trying to encourage them to see each other as their closest friend, their most reliable ally, just like you and me. I don't like that they were crawling around on the roof, but I do like that they worked as a team the way they did, and I let them keep some of the candy because of that.
"I want them to always know they can count on each other, El. I don't want them to end up falling to arguing because of their mothers, or over their inheritance. In a few years they'll be noticing guys, and guys are going to notice them, too! Heaven help them, they've both inherited their mothers' looks, and they're going to be just as beautiful as their mothers in a few years. I don't want them fighting over a guy, or ending up conned by some jerk who just sees a pretty face and a girl he wants to get in bed. That's less likely if they've got each other's backs.
"Given our family and their mothers and our situation, it's a good bet they'll both end up as agents of some kind or another, too," Chuck went on. "I want them to be able to count on each other for support if that happens."
Chuck looked again at the tiny girls in their beds, clinging to a stuffed dog and a teddy bear, and in his mind's eye the image of them in ten years, in fifteen, haunted him.
"Tell me about it," Ellie said softly. "I have the occasional nightmare about what might happen when Clara is a little older. It's a near sure thing she'll end up in this crazy business in some way. If she does, I want her to be C.I., not NSA or CIA or FBI or any of the rest of damned alphabet soup."
"Same here," Chuck said. "And if my kids and your kids have each other's backs, they're all a lot less likely to end up being victimized by the alphabet soup or worse. If they're C.I. they're a lot less likely to end up doing seduction work or wet work or being involuntary assets themselves."
"Speaking of C.I.," Ellie said, "you and I need to finish our conversation about the Nochera affair, and it's getting late."
"I know," Chuck said. "Let's that that out of the way and get some sleep."
With that, Chuck and Ellie headed for their private office, leaving Stephanie and Charlotte-Mary to their dreams.
TO BE CONTINUED...