A/N (1) Previously on Chuck versus The Journey: It can happen so fast, and it did. The atom-bomb mission fell somehow apart the very moment it began. Bryce Larkin goofed and is not on board anymore, so it was up to Chuck and Sarah to regroup and take up Charles and Samantha Lisa Carmichael's roles. I don't own any of 'em, whichever cover name they currently use.
•••••••••••••••••••
I feel inside me, as sure as anything,
One day I'll mean more to you than a puppet on a string.
So I beg you, please don't drag that string around, oh no.
Well, what if it should break,
Oh, tell me, what would I do then?
Keep that string up off the ground,
Oh, yeah, remember, my heart is tied to the other end.
"Please Don't Drag That String Around" (Otis Blackwell & Winfield Scott)
Chapter 8: Sarah vs. The Boulevardier (1)
The ballroom was as huge as the California state debt. One short end of it looked out to the ocean through a spectacular glass front. The awareness that nothing mattered besides this enormous hall made the Pacific look like it was arranged by human hands to complement the room merely. Round tables seating eight persons each were placed irregularly as if the sea had washed them in, creating the impression of a giant pinball machine. Busy personnel in their uniform wear ping-ponged between these islands of hospitality like pinballs. Their shuffling around was slightly muted by invisible speakers delivering a subdued eclectic mix of Smooth Jazz, Neo Swing, and American Songbook. The whole setting would have sent Busby Berkeley's brain into creative overdrive.
The floor was the same white marble as outside in the anteroom, its structure repeated in the walls and the rectangular columns. In contrast to the antechamber, the veins that ran through the stone were of pastel-colored rose and orange, which evoked a warm and cozy atmosphere. All the exits, except the front one where they entered, were located on the left long side of the hall. That side also featured a formidable bar as long as the Interstate 405, but without the traffic jams as there were half-a-dozen bartenders ready to fulfill every order quickly. The long right-hand side provided the service entrances and was filled with an endless line of bar tables and bar stools, all in shiny metal and black leather, looking like a string of giant black pearls as seen from the balcony, which ran alongside.
Approaching their table, Chuck almost tripped as he suffered from a massive flash. During the briefing, the name Kowalski had not triggered anything, but apparently, seeing the family in the flesh, had a different effect. The flood of images pelted down on him the way a one-armed bandit spit out coins when a jackpot occurred.
Sarah put an arm under his elbow and steadied him, placing her other hand on his chest. "Tell me," she simply said. He sighed into her hand.
"I flashed on the Kowalskis. It was so overwhelming I can't even say if it was a single trigger or numerous ones," Chuck said and continued, briefly making an apologetic face. "Also, I can't memorize all of it, I'm sorry. I've seen that Gene Kowalski, the elder son, has more affairs than he has speeding tickets, which is quite the task. He's a much-noticed travel and nature photographer, an enfant terrible always prone to getting into trouble. He was arrested in the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone. He was escorted off of the El Chepe in Mexico because he balanced on top of a railroad car taking photographs, and more like that. But there are some real dark spots too. Like that he's under surveillance by the CBP, which is rather suspicious given our mission, but I couldn't see any details. Uhm, 34 years old."
Sarah glanced over to the table where a handsome, sun-tanned man sat and watched them. He was the only one on the table to look over, which told Sarah that he was attentive and aware – or he was simply ogling her. "Good. Go on."
Chuck tried to marshal the impressions the flash left.
"The younger son, Robert, 30, is a lawyer aspiring to follow his father into politics. Both father and son seem to bend the rules a bit when it comes to financing their campaigns. Still, they don't cross the line of illegality, and it's only in the agency files – there never was any media scandal. Judging by political standards, you may say he's one of the good guys. Ginger, Robert's fiancée, 29, is working in the Governor's office. There's not much on her in the Intersect. She was a fashion model once, then traveled a lot for UNICEF-" Chuck gave an annoyed look – "which obviously is enough for you guys to have a file on her, but it's more or less non-existent. She ended up here. We'd be better off checking the tabloids than the Intersect to see how she got acquainted with the Kowalskis. But I had disturbing impressions regarding trafficking and weapon deals in general. Sad to say I couldn't grasp the details and can't say who these images are about. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
"That's OK, that was an excellent start," Sarah reassured him, remembering the embarrassing moments in the van. See, I can do that. I can compliment him. I'm not a rotten mess. Where's Carina when you could rub her face into it?
•••••••••••••••••••
Roan Montgomery, acting as the banquet manager, had no problem establishing a friendly atmosphere at the Governor's table. Montgomery got the benevolent agreement of the Governor when he told them that was precisely that table where the Carmichaels sat on their wedding reception a few days ago. Hence, the hotel wanted to give them the same seats every day. Montgomery introduced Chuck as the owner of a small-sized but upcoming software company, and Sarah as the owner of a fitness studio.
Height ran in the family of the Governor. They all were about the same size as Chuck, Gene possibly even larger. The sons also inherited the father's dirty blonde hair and masculine features, including a pronounced jawline that gave them a look of determination and conviction. But the only one to have charisma was the elder Kowalski. His open gaze and firm handshake made Chuck think that right at that moment, there was no person more important to the Governor than Charles Carmichael, whom Kowalski had never heard about before. Sarah noticed how impressed he was. She could already hear Chuck's voice in her ears: The Governor surely is not involved in any dirty business. You can see at a glance that he's one of the good guys.
Montgomery also introduced the African-American couple, Samuel and Olivia Wodson. They were supporters of the Governor and about his age. They seemed friendly, good-natured, fun-loving, and mixed well with the Kowalskis, the families knowing each other for many years.
"It's nice to have another young woman at the table," Ginger said as she stretched out her hand. "If the Kowalski triumvirate holds court, politics, and economy rule the talk."
She was blonde, lean, almost as tall as Sarah, and athletic. Her firm handshake belied her soft features. Sarah did not underestimate the woman. Ginger might have applied to herself the Little-Woman-tag, but behind her pale blue eyes shimmered a quicksilver and ambitious intellect.
"Tell me about it!" Sarah smiled. "If we have Charles' friends over, it's all about computers, apps, WiFi and hotspots, fast front-ends, and dedicated servers. I'm only happy that he is more dedicated to me than to all that."
"I think we will get along quite well," Ginger laughed as they sat down. "It seems we could exchange notes."
•••••••••••••••••••
(Flashback, unknown place and time)
"Samantha Lisa, come over to me!" the man says softly. "Look what I got here for you! Your favorite ice cream, strawberry, and banana!"
"I don't want no ice cream," she says, wanting it very much, but she tried to hide her disappointment as by now, he should know that her favorite ice cream is Rocky Road.
"Samantha Lisa, you'll better be a good girl now and come here and eat that ice cream, or I'll never bring any again!"
She sighs and obeys and pretends that she likes it.
•••••••••••••••••••
Sarah was glad that the introductions were over. It plucked at her nerves to hear her own name and possibly having to carry it for four days, but she hoped that the unease would wear off in time.
As waiters and waitresses swarmed out offering aperitifs, Gene Kowalski got up, grabbed the tray from the waiter who seemed to be used to that move, and served the ladies himself.
"Campari & Orange? For you, as always, I assume, Ginger? Here you go."
He placed the drink in front of her with an elegant move.
"That seems to be a…" – he cautiously nosed the wine – "… a Zinfandel Rosé, hm, an interesting choice for a start… you're adventurous. Will you try it, Olivia?"
He served the second glass as Olivia nodded and turned to Sarah.
"And for you, Samantha?" he asked, conspiratorially lowering his voice as well as the tray to make her choice more comfortable, which allowed him to close the difference between them and position himself so Chuck couldn't see his face.
What a bold move, Sarah thought unimpressed. Rich, good-looking, perky in a sleek way. And confident enough to hit on me, a married woman, with my husband sitting by my side. Roan would like him.
Gene Kowalski gave her a provocative look that invited for something entirely else than picking a drink while he kept the polite smile glued to his face.
"Something dry and not too strong? Possibly a plain dry Vermouth to get the juices flowing?" He made a pause that, combined with his unabashed gaze, added an uncouth innuendo to his previous words and continued, "And you'll need your gastric juices, if I may be so bold to mention that, because the five-course dinner here at the Palacio will challenge you. I'm talking from my very own experience."
Sarah could feel Gene's breath on her hair, and she could feel Chuck's gaze boring into her from behind. She pondered her options for a jiffy. Gene was rich, well-dressed, good-looking, had an exciting profession, and mixed what was left of the good manners he once was taught with a hefty dose of ribaldry. That tactic repelled Sarah, but she had seen enough women fall for the crude macho approach. Gene didn't know that she couldn't be impressed that way, and she possibly could use that to her advantage.
It would be convenient to let Gene discreetly know that she understood his advances, which would make him seek a tête-à-tête the first moment an opportunity arose. That possibly could give her the chance to find out if he was part of their problem or not. She knew Chuck would not understand and be enormously upset, but those fences could be mended later.
On the other hand, Chuck had shown a significant presence of mind. Sarah didn't feel as alone on that mission as she initially thought she would be. She didn't want to upset him in the first place. Besides, since the evening was only beginning, there was no need to rush it.
"Thank you, Gene. I see a Negroni and a Manhattan there," she let him know that she needed no one to teach her about cocktails. Without looking back at Chuck, Sarah stretched her left arm to the side and slightly back. Chuck's hand unhesitatingly took hers. Yes, Chuck! she thought, perfect! Holding his hand, she gave her next words a double meaning as well. "But I know what I want."
She ignored Gene and turned to Chuck and saw that she made the right decision. Tiny pearls of sweat had instantly formed on his brow in fear that she would take up the flirt with Gene and make Chuck look like an idiot. Sarah knew he hated it if she used her femininity to advance a mission. She genuinely gifted him with a most captivating smile. His eyes widened as he guessed that she was not acting.
"I'd love to have the drink that we had last night, that Boulevardier, but again with Rye instead of Bourbon. Will you order that for me, Sweetie?"
"And going extra strong on the Rye, I know. It'll be my pleasure, honey bee," Chuck replied and did not need to explain his order as the patient waiter simply nodded silently. If he wondered where they sipped it last night, he politely didn't show.
The gaze Chuck gave Sarah bristled with gratitude. She could not help herself – she felt joy over his reaction.
"Trafila kosa na kamien, Gene," the Governor murmured contentedly, sending his older son a warning stare. The expression he bestowed on Sarah was a mixture of apology and satisfaction. The waiter had taken the tray back as Gene walked around the table to sit once more opposite of them, seemingly not affected by Sarah cold-shouldering him. The rest of the people at the table relaxed visibly. Olivia even sent her the smallest of smiles.
Serial womanizer! Sarah remembered Casey's words. The whole Kowalski clan had known the game Gene was playing and had been waiting if I would embarrass my husband!
Sarah did not acknowledge that she understood the Governor's Polish proverb, pretending she didn't hear him as she was busy caressing her husband's hand. In fact, she was busy scanning the crowd.
The easiest to identify were the Secret Service people. Several of them already kept watch and didn't really try to hide their presence. Others inconspicuously wandered between the tables, but Sarah's trained eye detected them.
Then she noticed that some began to move towards the main entrance, which could herald the arrival of the Vice President. Sarah realized that something was off when more agents set into motion and actually left, which certainly wasn't standard operating procedure.
She needed a report from Casey but didn't want to leave the Kowalski table so early on. Sarah reached up to her right ear and tapped three times with her fingers on her earrings. The Wodsons noticed as she got a cursory view from both of them, but her earbuds remained silent. Casey, c'mon! She waited about half a minute, then repeated the procedure on the left ear.
"Sometimes, I think that I have water in my ears hours after we left the beach," she explained smilingly when the Wodsons noticed again.
"Yeah, I heard you the first time, Walker!" Casey's voice abruptly came alive. "Listen. The Secret Service finally registered that they weren't the only agency in the house. Beckman briefed the SAIC. It took them less than a minute to pull their man out. So, in case you hoped to meet him, tough luck – he's gone."
Chuck heard the same message and seemed disappointed. He's falling out of character! Sarah realized and quickly blew him a kiss. It was not clear if he grasped her intention, but his face told that the gesture from Sarah more than simply compensated him for the missed chance to meet the Vice President.
He is so sweet. I wanna have him for dessert, she thought. Where did that come from now, Walker?
But they didn't have long to play the happy couple. Shortly after the second course was served, a phone beeped. Gene Kowalski reached into the breast pocket of his suit and pulled out his mobile. After a moment of reading a message, he excused himself. "This can't wait. I'm sorry. I have to take care of that."
He rushed towards the far left end of the ballroom.
Sarah's left hand slid to Chuck's upper thigh and squeezed it. She needed to follow Gene. Chuck instinctively understood. His hand found hers, and he held tightly to it, not wanting to let her go. His head turned to her, and his eyes pleaded. The beautiful feeling between them that had been much too real for a cover operation waned. The soft smile remained plastered on her face, but the eyes staring into Chuck's turned a cold and steely blue, hiding the pang of regret she experienced by losing the connection to him.
I know what you gonna do, Sarah Walker, Chuck thought. He knew what tactics she would use. She was unarmed. All she had to throw into whatever the situation would bring, was herself. You will stick to him like glue. If the situation requires it, you will beat him to a pulp – or fall into his arms to be taken wherever he was going. Hardly a year ago, he would have thought that something like this would be the scenario of a mediocre spy parody. Now it was his life.
Sarah still stared into his sad brown eyes, sad herself over the interruption of their play but willing him to understand. You know I have to follow him, Chuck, she thought. Remember the a-bomb. I even have to give my life if I can prevent the death of many thousands. Don't make it harder than it already is. We can talk about it later. Now I need to find out if Mr. Cocktail Casanova is involved in our mission.
"Samantha Lisa, be a good girl," Chuck whispered almost inaudibly.
A wave of confusion washed over her. As if Chuck knew how to torture her, he spoke precisely those words that hit her vehemently. Her stare got harder, and it became tougher to keep her cold and distance as anger rose up inside her. For years, she had been relatively safe from her past. Now it was Chuck, dear becurled Chuck Bartowski, the protagonist in so many of her dreams lately, who stuck the knife in and twisted it around again and again.
Now, Sarah Walker may have been named The Ice Queen, but she was a human being. She had not found a way to channel her tender emotions for Chuck yet, but press her buttons, and you can exasperate her nonetheless.
What is he thinking about me, …again? Sarah fumed inwardly. And if he thinks that low of me, how can he be so determined to have a relationship with me? I wish I had a chance to have him answer that question right now!
She wrestled herself free from his hand, covering the uneven struggle while standing up, grabbed her purse, and excused herself.
OK, you're the AIC, therefore lead him and make sure he uses his time well!
Her final look, standing very close and looking down so that no one else could notice it, was a stern glance to the side where the Wodsons sat, followed by an equally stern glance at him. He returned her stare moodily but understanding.
Yeah, yeah, Agent In Charge. I will check them all out.
She swiftly walked towards the restroom sign, which fortunately pointed to the far end of the hall as well, watching Gene leave through the door she was heading to.
"What's going on, Walker?" Casey's voice was in her ear.
She didn't want to simply speak into her watch. There were so many people, and certainly too many men following her with their eyes. Slowing down, she fished her mobile out of her purse, which would give her the appearance to accept a call.
"Gene Kowalski apparently got an important message and left immediately. I'm following him. The atomic suitcase might change owners now, or he possibly only got a text from one of his girlfriends, I don't know," she said, a bit frustrated. "I have to find out. "
Casey got the sore spot at once. "What about Bartowski?"
She offered a clipped answer. "He didn't like it. But it can't be helped."
Casey's voice became serious, snidely letting her know that his point of view was completely different and mission-targeted. "Walker, listen, I don't care about his lady feelings. But he's the Intersect and should not be left alone in such a situation."
"He'll manage. He's pretty clever," Sarah responded, not feeling as proud about it as she had a few minutes before.
"Still, he should be with you," Casey insisted.
Sarah rolled her eyes. Casey was deliberately ignoring what she told him between the lines. "That wouldn't be so good. Who knows what I have to deal with. And maybe he'll interfere with my plans."
Casey's voice got rougher, a sure as hell sign that he didn't approve her intentions. "Don't tell me about your plans, Walker. Just let me know in time when I need to turn off my headphones."
Her voice turned as sharp as her knives. "You mistake me for Carina. You'd better not project your experiences with her onto me."
"Whatever, Walker. Get that suitcase and pray that in the meantime, Chuck is safe."
Sarah didn't want to hear about Chuck not being safe. She was driven by the ambition to finish the mission early, drop her cover name like a hot potato, and return to Chuck.
"Why shouldn't he be safe? There are hundreds of people, and this mission is not at all about the Intersect. I see no problem."
It was one of the rare occasions she made Casey laugh. "If I had gotten a promotion every time we thought Bartowski is safe and sound, I wouldn't sit in this van, but in some leather swivel chair in Washington, and everybody would kiss ass because I'd be the Chairman of the JCS."
"Alright," Sarah tried to end the frustrating talk. "But I have no choice. This could be the decisive lead to close the mission early - without any death toll. I gotta do everything I can."
Casey's gruff voice, sounding even harsher and slightly metallic through the earbuds, seemed to soften nonetheless by a notch or two.
"Copy that, Walker, but remember you're not only an agent tonight, you're also Samantha Lisa - and she better has to be a good girl for the sake of the moron and the mission."
She tore the phone abruptly from her ear and for a vexing second looked at it with a furrowed brow before bringing it back to talk.
"Casey, radio silence! We are proceeding as I say. Silence. Now!" she hissed angrily, storming out the door. How could he dare to speak those words she hated so much? Was everyone conspiring against her? She took a deep breath and remembered her trustworthy mantra: I am Sarah Walker; I am strong and unbreakable; the blood in my veins is as cold as ice.
There were the doors to the restrooms, but to her right was another door leading outside. She followed her instincts and pushed it open. A sidewalk extended dead straight along the spectacular glass front, to where she exited and then further along with the building. A broad strip of well-manicured blue-green St. Augustine grass lined the way except in front of her, where stairs went down to the beach.
She immediately saw Gene, who stowed his wallet away. He stood in the pale light of a lantern with a haggard man whose face was ghostly sallow. Kowalski then dropped something into the bony hand of the man. It had to be one of those access cards for the hotel rooms, though being a bit too far away, she wasn't sure. But she was positive to identify the other object the man carried as he turned away and walked in the other direction.
It was a suitcase. No big deal in a hotel - unless it was an atomic suitcase.
•••••••••••••••••••
A/N (2) Busby Berkeley (1895-1976): American film director and musical choreographer of elaborate musical production numbers that often involved complex geometric patterns. Berkeley's works used large numbers of showgirls and props as fantasy elements in kaleidoscopic on-screen performances. Best known for choreographing five musicals back-to-back for Warner Bros.: 42nd Street, Footlight Parade, Gold Diggers of 1933, Dames, and Fashions of 1934.
A/N (3) El Chepe: The Ferrocarril Chihuahua al Pacífico, also known as El Chepe from its reporting mark CHP, is a major rail line in northwest Mexico, traversing the Copper Canyon, a rugged series of canyons that make it one of the most scenic railroad trips on the continent.
A/N (4) CPB: United States Customs and Border Protection
A/N (5) The Boulevardier: The boulevardier cocktail is an alcoholic drink composed of Whiskey, sweet vermouth, and Campari. It was created in Harry's New York Bar in Paris in the 1920s. Famous Harry MacElhone credits it to Erskine Gwynne, an American-born writer who founded a monthly magazine in Paris called Boulevardier.
A/N (6) "Trafila kosa na kamien": It is a Polish byword. One of its meanings is "You met your match" along the lines of coming to an opponent who is more skillful than you are. In our case, Gene Kowalski is facing Sarah Walker, who is not accepting his advances.
A/N (7) JCS: The chairman of the JCS( Joint Chiefs of Staff) is, by law, the highest-ranking military officer of the United States Armed Forces, and the principal military adviser to the President of the United States.
A/N (8) Thank you all for your reviews and thoughts. Keep 'em coming, don't send 'em to NBC, send 'em to me! Also, I can't reply to you if you review as a Guest. Sign up to FF, and I can address your feedback. So, be someone on FF and sign up. Does hurt less than getting a governmental database uploaded into your brain.