Chapter 17: The Vengeance Plot
California, Burbank, The Castle, January 3rd, 2008
"Excellent work, agents, Mr Bartowski." Beckman smiled, though it looked more polite than genuine. At least Chuck thought it did - he didn't know the woman very well. He had never met her in the flesh, after all; he only ever talked to her through video calls. "The virus you planted is working; we'll soon know the extent of Martinez's network."
"Thank you, ma'am," Casey snapped. Chuck refrained from mentioning that it was a worm.
"Other teams will take down his organisation once we have gathered enough information," the general went on. "You'll be contacted once there's a new mission for you. Until then, continue with your current duties."
That didn't sound like Beckman expected their search for Orion to pan out. On the other hand, the general was a spy as well, wasn't she? So this might be disinformation. Or a subtle reminder for Bane to continue spying on them. Or both.
Chuck sighed when the general's image faded out, and the screen turned dark. He still didn't have a grip on the higher levels of spy work.
"Well, that's one mission accomplished. Anyone up to celebrate it?" Bane stood. "The night's still young."
That was putting it mildly - it was barely after six.
"We've already got plans for the evening, sorry," Sarah said, putting her arm around Chuck.
He managed not to blurt out 'we have?' and nodded instead. "Yeah, sorry."
Casey grunted something about having to do maintenance on the armoury. Or his own arsenal. The man had more weapons than some museums.
"Ah, I'll go out with Morgan then. See you tomorrow." Bane smiled and left.
And Chuck remembered that he still hadn't thought of a way how to break the news that Bane had seduced a mark to Morgan.
Well, that could wait another day. It wouldn't be nice to tell Morgan right before he went out with the spy. He cleared his throat. "So… where are we going for dinner? Or is it a surprise?"
"It's a surprise. We'll have to dress up," Sarah replied.
"Ah." He nodded. She didn't look flustered at all. So, this was probably not just a way to shoot down Bane's offer, but planned beforehand. Or Sarah was just good at improvising.
Chuck wasn't about to ask her, of course.
California, Los Angeles, Echo Park, January 3rd, 2008
Three hours later, Chuck still didn't know if Sarah had been improvising. Reservations at 'Angelo's', a pricey but popular Italian restaurant, weren't easy to get on short notice, but not too hard either. Especially for a spy.
Not that he cared much any more, anyway. Dinner had been great, and they had started clubbing afterwards, hitting the same clubs they had visited when they had gone on their first date. It hadn't been much over three months ago, but it felt much longer.
So much had changed since that day. He had a great girlfriend, an important job, he had graduated from Stanford, he had discovered that his dad was alive… If not for the fact that a secret organisation was after him and the CIA after his father, this would be perfect.
He still hadn't learned to dance, though. Certainly not like Sarah. Watching her move was just… He shook his head with a smile when she danced closer, rolling her shoulders in that way of hers that… He gasped when she turned in front of him, then pressed her back into his chest. Oh.
She turned back to face him just as the music changed to a slower song and wrapped her arms around him as she drew close. "So, like my surprise?" she whispered into his ear.
"Totally. This was a great idea," he replied. "Perfect!"
She smiled, then leaned in to kiss him.
And then his phone started to vibrate in his pants. He cursed himself as he broke the kiss and pulled it out. "Sorry," he mouthed to her, "could be important."
It was. It was a message from Morgan.
Trouble with demons. need help. Los Globos.
Great. One perfect evening, ruined. He grimaced and leaned towards the frowning Sarah. "Demon trouble with Morgan and Bane," he told her. "Los Globos".
She nodded curtly, then turned and started to move towards the exit. He followed her.
California, Los Angeles, Silver Lake, January 3rd, 2008
A perfect evening, ruined. Sarah wasn't happy at all. But you didn't let your friends and partners hanging if they needed help. Even if they were Grimes and Bane, and probably deserved whatever trouble they had found. Los Globos - there had been vampire trouble in that club when Sarah had visited it before.
"Caridad's coming too," Chuck told her as she parked her car. "As is Casey."
Sarah nodded - she hadn't expected anything else. "What about Phil?"
"I don't know. He's usually, uh, mission control, but he might be on the way as well, once we know more."
'Once we know more', right. Grimes hadn't sent another message with more information, and Bane hadn't answered her phone at all. That wasn't a good sign. Not at all. Especially since the phones were still registering on the closest cell tower, as Chuck had found out.
Of course, there could be a simple explanation for the lack of calls. But they were dealing with demons, not spies.
She checked her gun and her purse, where she kept her vials of holy water, before getting out of the car.
"Should have taken a crossbow," Chuck whispered as he joined her. "I feel under-armed."
"You used to walk around with a stake and a vial," she reminded him as they crossed the street between two stretch limousines.
"I wasn't hunting demons or spying back then," he replied. "Perhaps a concealed gun wouldn't be a bad idea. Casey keeps ribbing me about it."
That sounded like Casey. 'Any man without a gun is underdressed' or something like it. "Guns don't work well on demons."
"They work well on spies. And with the right ammunition, they work on some demons," Chuck said.
Sarah couldn't reply - they reached the entrance to the club, and the bouncers wouldn't react well to overhearing such talk. Instead, she smiled and made a comment about dancing and drinking as they entered the club.
"Should we split up?" Chuck asked.
"No." He wasn't trained enough for that.
"Never split the party, got it," he replied.
Close enough, and easier on him. "Use the scanner now," she told him. They were inside and should be able to find the phones now.
"Alright." He pulled the scanner out and started to move it around. Sarah winced and stepped in front of him to shield him from view - at least partially.
"This way!" he said, pointing towards a dark corner - as Sarah had expected.
They found the two phones on the ground, under a couch there. Bane's had a broken screen and Grimes' a cracked case.
"Demons," Chuck said. "You need a lot of force to crack that case on this floor."
"Unless they threw it against the wall," Sarah pointed out.
He went to check it with the flashlight app on his phone, then shook his head. "I'm stupid! We'll have Caridad check them."
Sarah nodded, though she knew she should have thought of that as well.
They did a quick sweep through the club on the way out, including the toilets. No sign of Grimes or Bane.
Caridad was just dismounting from her bike outside when they left the club. "What do you have?" she blurted out.
"We found their phones," Chuck explained, pulling them out.
The Slayer sniffed them, then growled. "Demon!"
"Can you track them?"
Caridad nodded. "Let me check around the club." She took off at a run.
Sarah looked at Chuck. "Uh… we best wait here," he said. "Caridad won't take long." She saw him bite his lower lip. "Those must have been demons who can take a human form since Morgan and Bane were taken inside the club without anyone noticing."
"Or they distracted the security," Sarah retorted. "Human-looking or not, people usually notice if you drag a couple out of the club."
"Right." Chuck wet his lips. "That would mean… I don't think demons would hack the security cameras. But they could've bribed the security. Or impersonated them."
"Either would be possible." And throw a really bad light on the club's security. Not that the standards for bouncers were very high to begin with.
"I found their tracks," Caridad announced, startling Sarah - the Slayer had approached them from behind. "Track leads that way."
"Are you sure?" Chuck asked.
"Yes," Caridad spat. In a slightly softer voice, she added: "I could clearly smell Morgan's aftershave."
"Ah!" Chuck suddenly smiled. "That's why he uses that hideous concoction!"
"No," Caridad replied, turning away. "He thinks it smells manly."
"Oh."
But the Slayer had already taken off again, and Sarah and Chuck had to struggle to keep up as she led them down the street, then into a side alley. Sarah still managed to check with Casey and keep him updated - the NSA agent was still on the way to the area but should catch up with them soon.
Sarah hoped it would be soon enough.
Chuck clenched his teeth as he ran after Caridad. Demons, in Los Globos - what were the odds? Alright, clubs did attract demons, what with the bad lighting, the opening hours being friendly to the sunlight-challenged, and the number of drunk people ready to 'go home' with anyone half-way attractive, but… hadn't Caridad hunted enough demons in that particular club for the news to spread? Perhaps those demons were new arrivals? But why Morgan?
Was this a hit on the resident Watcher-in-training? Bait for Caridad? A challenge? Or just coincidence? It wouldn't be the first time, but… assuming so usually was a bad idea. "How… much… longer… until… we… meet… Casey?" he managed to ask while running. He really needed to step up his training.
Before Sarah could answer, Casey's car shot around the corner - his private car - and slid to a stop nearby, half of it on the sidewalk.
Chuck had seen worse parking.
The NSA agent left the car, a duffel bag in hand. Sarah pointed ahead. "This way! They changed course," she snapped before Chuck could start to explain, and Casey fell in with them. He wasn't wearing his "Federal Suit" or black spy getup, Chuck noticed. Private car, slacks and shirt - had he been out in town? That would explain his late arrival.
More trouble with Caridad? Chuck forced the thought away. He had to focus on Morgan. And Bane.
His phone vibrated. He pulled it out. Morgan! No - Chuck's friend had lost his phone. It was Caridad.
Construction site.
Damn.
Construction sites were almost as bad as sewers when it came to demons. "Uh... " he blurted out as they turned the corner - he had fallen behind a little reading the message, "They're… in there!"
The construction site - half an apartment building - was looming ahead, raising three floors, the fourth still under construction, no windows set anywhere yet, just raw concrete walls and stairs. And, presumably, basements.
He really wished he had a crossbow with him. And a flamethrower.
Caridad hadn't waited for them - not that Chuck had expected her to; Slayers generally didn't do patience well even when lives weren't on the line. Chuck looked up as they approached the building. He couldn't see anything or anyone moving up there. Granted, it was dark, but things such as walls and stairs breaking, which was normal for Slayer fights, tended to be noticeable even at night. "Basement it is, I think," he said.
Casey grunted and opened his bag, pulling out a pair of crossbows as well as some blades. And an axe!
Chuck smiled when he took the axe and smaller crossbow. "Thanks!"
Casey grunted again and entered the building, followed by Sarah. So, Chuck would be the rear guard. Or rear bait, as Faith sometimes called it. Swell.
Although with Caridad ahead of them, the odds of a demon laying an ambush were low. At least Chuck told himself that as the three of them sneaked down the dark, unfinished stairs.
"Tracks on the ground," Casey announced.
"What kind of tracks?" Chuck asked.
"Do I look like a cavalry scout or forensic expert?" the agent retorted.
"No, of course not!" Chuck replied. "I was just asking… You know, to find out who and how many are waiting for us." He heard the sound of something breaking, followed by a scream. "Or fighting," he added.
But Casey and Sarah were already rushing down, leaving him to run after them. Again.
They passed the body of a dead demon - or human; there was no time to stop and check, and Chuck didn't see any horns or fangs on the severed head - and reached the second basement. Where Caridad was fighting half a dozen snarling demons. Snarling humanoid demons with red eyes.
And there were Morgan and Bane, stuck in a cage. A cage the demons had started to surround with wood, Chuck realised with a gasp. They were going to burn them!
"Chuck! They're bulletproof!" Morgan yelled. Then he screamed as one demon dropped a torch and the wood went up in flames.
But a moment later, Caridad rammed a demon into it with a shoulder charge, scattering the burning logs. And Sarah and Casey moved in with their swords, literally crossing blades with the demons.
Chuck, though, gritted his teeth and circled around the fighting. He Dodged the burning logs that rolled over the floor courtesy of Caridad and rushed towards the cage. He had to get them out - Morgan was coughing already, and Bane didn't look well either. And the smoke and heat from the logs that hadn't been scattered weren't helping Chuck, either.
There was a padlock on the cage door - nothing a good axe couldn't handle. Or a bad axe. After a few blows, with hardly any missing and hitting the bars, the lock split and Chuck could open the door.
Before he could help them get out of the cage, though, Morgan yelled: "Behind you!"
Chuck dived to the side, but something still hit him, and he was thrown right on top of a burning log. He hit the wood with his side, pain flaring up in his ribcage. And then he was on fire. His shirt was burning. Chuck screamed and rolled off the log, then cried out some more at the pain in his side that that caused. He was on fire! Drop and roll. Drop and roll. He was already dropped, so he had to roll. Roll! Roll!
He rolled. A sword hit the ground where he had been a moment before. Screaming even more loudly, he rolled again. And again, avoiding another blow from the sword. Then he hit the wall and couldn't roll any further, and the demon was raising its sword with an evil, toothy smile, and now it'd cleave him apart…
Morgan tackled the demon from behind, screaming like a banshee. Both crashed down on Chuck, knocking the breath out of him. The demon howled, lashing out, but Morgan was holding on to its sword arm, pulling it back.
Chuck caught a painful blow to the stomach, another to the cheek, but managed to pull out his vial of holy water, and when Morgan pulled the monster off him for a moment, he splashed its contents into the demon's face.
The screams that produced were hideous and drowned out everything else. Fortunately, Morgan used the opportunity to grab the sword it had dropped and finished the thrashing, wailing demon from behind. Well, hacked it several times to bring it down - and shut it up - then finished it off.
Chuck shook his head - his ears were ringing - and forced himself to get up. There were still… no demons left standing any more. He blinked.
"Chuck!" Sarah rushed towards him. "Are you hurt?"
"Uh…" He was hurt, wasn't he? But he could still walk, probably run and fight. Did that count? He blinked again. Had he caught a blow to the head?
"Chuck! Your shirt!"
Oh… It was smouldering. Chuck wanted to make a joke about being smouldering hot, but Sarah ripped the shirt off him before he found the words. He wanted to joke about ripping his shirt off, but by the time he thought of it, they were rushing up the stairs.
And then they were outside the building and moving towards Casey's car. And each time he coughed from all the smoke in his lungs, Chuck's ribs felt as if they were still on fire. Or something like it. He wasn't the only one. Not the only one coughing. Bane was too, as was Morgan.
"We should have quit smoking earlier," Chuck commented.
No one laughed even though that was quite funny.
California, Los Angeles, Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center, January 3rd, 2008
Chuck was finally sleeping. Sarah brushed a lock of hair from his forehead and sighed. He looked quite vulnerable and hurt in the hospital bed. But he would be fine. That was the most important thing, in Sarah's opinion. According to the doctors who had treated him, he had a minor concussion, some minor burns - the logs had been soaked in gasoline, but not much had clung to his shirt - and his bruised ribs would be hurting for some time, plus assorted other bruises, but he would be fine. He hadn't suffered any damage to his lungs from the smoke, either. But he would have to stay at the hospital for observation for the rest of the night because of his concussion.
Grimes and Bane were in similar shape, minus the concussion. Which meant they weren't asleep yet.
And could answer questions.
She left Chuck's room, feeling slightly guilty for doing so, and headed to Grimes' room - after checking if there were nurses around; visiting hours were over and she wasn't supposed to be in the hospital any more. Grimes was still awake, typing on his phone. Sending messages, probably to Bane. His smile died when he met her eyes. Good.
"What exactly happened?" she asked.
He talked.
"...and then I noticed those guys who had been eyeing us had red eyes which glowed in the dark. Reflected the light, actually, I think."
That explained how he had recognised them as demons. She nodded. "And then?"
"They had us surrounded and knocked our phones out of our hands right after I texted Chuck, but Kirsten took one of them down with some martial arts move, pushed him into the others and we managed to slip away."
Or they had been allowed to run away because they would have been easier to catch outside, where no club security and no witnesses were present.
"So, we ran, but they were close on our heels, and, well… We got captured." He smiled weakly at her.
She refrained from rolling her eyes. "And got dragged to a basement which had been prepared to burn you alive."
That made him grimace. "Uh, yes."
"Why? Did they know you're working for the Council?" Was this an attack aimed at provoking a response? As a distraction? Or to frame someone?
"I don't think so. They said they were after Kirsten."
What? "They were after Bane?" Sarah couldn't believe it. The spy knew about demons? Was involved enough to be hunted by demons?
"So they said. They weren't locals, so they didn't recognise me. I told them I knew the Slayer, but they didn't believe me," Grimes replied. "But they were arguing about it, so it helped."
"Did they say why they were after her?"
"Err…" Grimes bit his lower lip. "I think they were hired - one of them said they weren't getting paid enough to tangle with a Slayer, but they were talking in a weird demon dialect, so I couldn't understand everything."
"Demon mercenaries?" That sounded far-fetched.
"Oh, yes. Many demons work as mercenaries - usually for other, more powerful or richer demons," Grimes explained. "Buffy had to deal with a lot of such demons. Like the Order of Taraka. They're assassins, and Spike hired them to go after her. That was before he got a soul and joined the Council, of course."
"Ah." She'd heard about that particular vampire, though she had never met him - apparently, he avoided Los Angeles as long as Harmony stayed here. Sarah could understand that. "So, someone hired them. Did they mention who did it?"
"They said 'Mathew sends his regards' when they were preparing to burn us."
And he couldn't have said that right away? Sarah kept a leash on her anger. Grimes wasn't a trained spy. And he was Chuck's best friend. He still should've mentioned the name without having to be prompted.
"It sounds like a vampire. No last name," Grimes added.
"Bane would know who this 'Mathew' is. Otherwise, they wouldn't have been ordered to tell her;" Sarah said.
"Ah, yes. Of course." Grimes frowned. "I would have never expected her to know a vampire."
She'd fooled him completely. As Sarah had expected. "We'll have to ask her some questions."
"Err… right."
Bane's room was next to Grimes, though Sarah had to let a nurse pass before she could head over. It as too easy - Chuck would need better protection. It would be best if she stayed with him.
Bane was also still awake when they entered her room, staring at her phone. She didn't look as attractive as usual, not without her hair and makeup done and wearing a hospital gown. "Oh." the agent commented when she spotted Grimes behind Sarah.
"Debriefing," Sarah told her. "Who's Mathew?"
"That's classified!" Bane snapped.
"Mathew hired people who fall under his organisation's purview," Sarah retorted, nodding at Grimes. "I'm cleared for the information."
"It's a classified CIA operation," Bane insisted.
"Which endangers our mission here." Sarah walked up to Bane's bed and leaned over. "They sent mercenaries to kill you - and tell you why. The mercenaries are dead, but their employer - Mathew - won't stop. We need to know how to find him."
"He's dead!" Bane replied. "I killed him myself. It has to be someone else."
Sarah frowned. It wasn't implausible - if someone wanted to take revenge for Mathew, letting Bane know why she was to be killed without revealing their own identity would be smart. And yet, since demons were involved, all bets were off. "We need the information," she said.
"It wouldn't be the first time a death was faked in our business," Grimes chimed in.
"Agent Larkin's death was faked," Sarah agreed. The first time only, though.
"I shot him dead," Bane said.
"It could've been a double," Sarah retorted. Or a demon that regenerated its wounds.
"I can't release this information without authorisation." Bane shook her head.
She was serious, Sarah realised. "Then we'll have to ask the general. Let's go." This couldn't wait.
"Err…" Grimes looked at her, then at Bane, then back at her before he followed her out of the room.
The hallway was clear.
"So… back to The Castle?" Grimes asked.
"No," she told him. "This hospital isn't secure enough to leave Chuck here without a guard."
"Ah." Grimes nodded. "I'll call Caridad. She can guard him. And me and Kirsten. And you can call the general."
That wasn't what Sarah had had in mind. On the other hand, as much as she hated to admit it, the Slayer would be able to protect Chuck against all demonic threats. Better than Sarah could.
She sighed. "Do it."
"Alright!"
She pressed her lips together for a moment. She hated being unable to protect Chuck adequately. But if her father had taught her anything, apart from conning people, then that life wasn't fair.
California, Burbank, The Castle, January 3rd, 2008
"...and that is why we need access to the files covering Agent Bane's mission," Sarah finished, then watched the general. Despite the lateness of the hour - it was close to midnight - Beckman was still in her office. A possible hint that she was already aware of the current incident - or involved. Or she was handling another problem somewhere; the agency was facing global threats.
"I see." The general looked at Bane. "Is this true, Agent Bane?"
"Yes, ma'am." Bane nodded. "Although I am certain that the man they mentioned is dead. I personally verified it."
Which Beckman would already know - Sarah had seen her skim a file on camera. The general nodded, then read the file for half a minute longer. "I'm transmitting the file to The Castle," she announced. "Find out who is behind this attack."
"Yes, ma'am," Sarah replied, but the screen was already fading out.
Perhaps the general was a little more tired than she had seemed. Or that was what she wanted them to think; Sarah didn't know the woman as well as she had known the director.
The computer terminal on the side beeped, announcing a file transfer. Bane, sitting at the planning table, made no move towards the computer, so Sarah walked over.
It suddenly struck her that Orion would have been able to get them the file if she had asked. Or any electronic files they needed or wanted. She pressed her lips together - she didn't like even considering that. To betray the agency like that… And she didn't want to owe the man anything. Unless Chuck was in danger and they were being stonewalled by Langley, of course.
On the other hand, if she had reason to suspect that the data she received was edited…
She shook her head and studied the files they had received. It looked like a standard mission for Bane. Seduce a mark, get his trust and access to his files, steal the data she as after, leave. And, in this case, tie up the loose ends, apparently. "Mathew Lindor?"
"Yes," Bane replied.
She read on. A former drug runner who broke off and started his own operation, in New York of all places. Apparently without running afoul of the local mob. And diversified into running stolen goods, including stolen prototypes. Which brought him to the CIA's attention. Which in turn resulted in Bane seducing and killing the man. "If someone faked his death, they went to great lengths," Sarah commented. There was a police report, a medical examiner's results, a death certificate… "Buried in Haiti."
"His home country, as he called it," Bane replied. "And he is dead. I shot him personally. Head and heart, just like a mob execution. And it was him - I spent enough time with him to tell. There was no double."
Sarah had done honeypot mission herself, but she hadn't assassinated her mark. To sleep with someone, for weeks, and then kill him? Bane didn't look as if she was affected by the deed. Was that a facade, or was she plotting how to kill Grimes, should she be ordered to?
"Hello!"
Speak of the devil… Sarah closed her eyes for a moment.
Grimes entered the room, a bottle of Mountain Dew in hand. He caught her glance and shrugged. "I got thirsty waiting for the general to sign off. Haven't had this flavour since high school, I think."
He wasn't trying to subtly signal something with this comment, Sarah told herself.
"So… got the file?"
"Yes," she replied.
Bane didn't say anything; she merely watched him. Trouble in paradise?
"Cool. So, who is it?" Grimes put the bottle down on the table, fortunately not spilling any soda on the surface.
"Was," Bane said. "He's dead."
"Probably," Sarah corrected her. "Without an exhumation, we cannot prove that." And they would need DNA from his relatives as well - which would mean they needed to verify those identities first.
Grimes nodded. "Yeah, I guess so." With a sigh, he added: "I hate digging up bodies. I hope they didn't bury it too deep or compressed the soil too much."
Sarah blinked. Grimes seemed to speak from experience. Then she snorted. Of course he'd have experience - she had heard the Scoobies' stories as well, after all.
"So, where is the grave?"
"In his home village in Haiti," Bane answered.
And Grimes winced. "Haiti? Please don't tell me that he was a Vodouist!"
Bane frowned. "He was, actually. Why?"
"Err… I've had some bad experiences with his kind," Grimes replied.
Vodou. Haiti. Sarah fought the urge to groan. Were they dealing with a zombie?
"'His kind'? What, a Vodou cult?" Bane asked,
"Err, yes." Grimes nodded. "Rituals, sacrifices, the works?"
The agent frowned, then Sarah saw her eyes widen. "Did they burn people?"
"Ah, no, no," Grimes replied, then glanced at her.
So, he wanted her to take the lead? Well, she could do that. Preferred to, actually. Unlike Grimes, she wasn't sleeping with the spy. "Did they act as if they wanted to sacrifice you in a religious ritual?"
Grimes blinked, then shook his head. "No, they didn't. No chanting, no candles, no runes painted on bodies or the ground."
"They were on drugs," Bane told them. "So much, their eyes were bloodshot. I doubt that they could have done anything more complex than trying to burn us." She shivered slightly, or so Sarah thought - the other agent was quite skilled at hiding her emotions.
"They were functional enough to capture you," she pointed out.
"Because there were so many. Some of them weren't as high as others and coordinated them, I assume," Bane retorted.
Sarah didn't make a crack about assuming, though she imagined Chuck making one - not that he'd do it where Bane might overhear him. But she tilted her head a little in response.
Bane pressed her lips together and glared at her. "There was a dozen of them, and we had lost communications."
"Did you identify the language they spoke?"
"No. I've never heard that language before," Bane replied. "But Morgan did."
Sarah should have expected that deflection. Bane would have noticed that Morgan could understand them.
"Err, it was similar to an African dialect I studied. But I'm no expert. You'd need Dawn for that."
"Foreigners, then." Sarah nodded. "Did you notice anything particular about them?" she asked Bane.
"You fought them as well," Bane shot back. "They looked and were dressed like locals."
"Like a local gang," Morgan chimed in, unhelpfully.
"Although they didn't use guns." Bane looked at them. "And neither did you."
"We assumed body armour," Sarah replied.
"And if they were on drugs, then bullets wouldn't have stopped them quickly enough," Morgan added.
It didn't sound very convincing. And Bane didn't look very convinced, either. But the agent didn't push the issue. She wouldn't forget it, though, Sarah would bet on it.
"So… we're going to Haiti?" Morgan asked.
California, Los Angeles, Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center, January 4th, 2008
"We're going to Haiti?" Chuck blinked in surprise.
"We need to check if Lindor rose from his grave," Sarah, sitting on the edge of his bed, told him.
"Right." Chuck nodded - gingerly. Concussions were serious. Could be serious, at least.
"And his base of operations might be there, after his organisation in New York was dismantled following his apparent death," she went on. "If he rose, of course. This could be someone else using his name."
"Right." But Chuck didn't think so. And neither did Sarah, as far as he could tell. "Zombies."
"Morgan seemed to have experience with them."
"There was a zombie problem in Sunnydale, though that wasn't Vodou, I think." Chuck remembered something about a mask. "Anyway, yes, someone was making zombies a few years ago, in Los Angeles. Raised the recently dead to plunder their bank accounts."
She frowned. "That sounds rather… mundane."
Chuck slowly nodded. "Yes. It wasn't particularly successful, either. But it was a mess." Dead bodies appearing everywhere, the press speculating about identity theft and grave robbing - Caridad had been running herself ragged trying to find the Vodouist, and Morgan had almost ended up being arrested as a grave robber when exhuming potential victims. Speaking of… "So, what about Bane? Does she, uh, know?"
Sarah sighed. "It doesn't appear so. But she could be playing dumb. She explained their appearance with drugs."
"Ah. That happened a lot in Sunnydale. But I think there was also a spell involved, covering the town." Which was a very creepy thought. "Anyway, is she coming with us?"
"Leaving her would be considered too dangerous since the enemy obviously knows where to find her. And the general didn't want to reassign her, despite her compromised cover."
"Ah." Both of which Sarah would have preferred, of course.
"Beckman probably thinks this is a good opportunity to gather information about the Council's assets in other parts of the world," Sarah went on.
"Oh." That wasn't a good thing, was it? "It would be hard to hide the truth from her if she's coming with us, wouldn't it?"
"Yes," she agreed. "And if anything happens to her, Beckman will suspect that we did it."
Oh. That was even worse.
California, Burbank, The Castle, January 4th, 2008
"So, what's the cover story for our trip to Haiti?" Chuck asked as he saw the maps on the planning table.
"A vacation," Sarah replied.
"Oh."
"Did you expect something stupid like being placed in quarantine to cover up our absences?" Casey asked, baring his teeth.
"No! Of course not!" He had, actually. Not that he would admit that. Not to Casey. And not to Sarah. Even though she smiled as if she knew already. "I'm just saying… if all of us take a vacation at the same time, it might look a little suspicious. Right?" And the Buy More would be short-staffed, though Chuck knew Casey didn't care about that.
"That's actually a good point," Sarah agreed. Casey grunted. "We can close Wienerlicious for repairs or refits. That would explain my and Bane's absence. And if we take a vacation, it would make sense that our boyfriends take a vacation as well."
"That leaves Casey without a cover story," Chuck pointed out.
"I don't need a cover story."
"But what if Big Mike won't let you take a vacation? Perhaps you have to visit your sick mother on the other side of the country?" That would be a decent cover story, in Chuck's opinion. Big Mike wouldn't make a fuss about it. Well, not a big one.
Casey grinned and racked the slide of the pistol he had just cleaned. "I'd like to see him try to stop me."
Chuck didn't. He really didn't want to see Big Mike dead. Casey might be joking, but if he wasn't… "Uh…" Think, Chuck, think. "If Big Mike gets killed, there'll be an investigation, and you'd be a suspect, endangering your cover."
"Not if it looks like an accident."
He had to be joking. Chuck looked at Sarah. She didn't seem to be concerned. So, odds are, Casey wasn't serious. Still… "I'll file our vacations," Chuck said. He cleared his throat. "So… has anyone been to Haiti already?"
"No," Sarah said.
"I've been to Costa Gravas," Casey said. "They call me 'Angel de la Muerte' there."
Chuck laughed. That had to be a joke. But no one else was laughing. He coughed. "Uh… Yes. Sorry. I thought of a joke."
The NSA agent glared at him but didn't say anything.
"So… how do we get to Haiti? Private jet? Submarine insertion?"
"Economy class, nerd," Casey spat. "We're on vacation."
"Yes," Bane spoke up. "Just three couples taking a vacation in Haiti."
"Three couples?" Casey frowned. And then frowned some more.
"Caridad will be coming with us," Chuck explained, flinching when the other agent growled. As if they would tackle a potential zombie plague without a Slayer.
"Why?" Bane asked. "This doesn't concern her, does it?"
"Uh…" Chuck forced himself to smile. "She's very protective of her friends."
Casey grunted again, then added: "We'd have to kill her to stop her."
Chuck, once again, hoped that the man was joking.