Chapter 18: The Vacation

California, Los Angeles International Airport, January 5th, 2008

James Bond never flew economy, Chuck was certain. And Bond wouldn't have to stand in line at the check-in desk for the flight to Florida. Behind an overweight man noisily snacking on something with far too much garlic. "I think I know why the Scoobies use private jets," Chuck muttered.

"I think they'd also use a scheduled flight if they wanted to be tourists," Sarah whispered. "Or pass as tourists."

He knew that. But that didn't mean he had to like it.

"Buffy has to fly economy or pay herself whenever it's not an emergency," Caridad said behind them. "Too many shopping trips to New York, or so Faith said."

Chuck had his doubts about the veracity of Faith's claim. On the other hand, Buffy liked her shoe shopping.

"It's always nice if you can combine business and pleasure," Bane, who had disguised herself with dyed hair, makeup and large sunglasses, said. Was she unaware of how that sounded for someone with her specialisation?

"It won't be much longer," Morgan chimed in. Apparently, he hadn't caught the implications. "Standing in line and waiting for your flight is part of the vacation experience, right? It makes you enjoy the holiday even more."

"Once you finally arrive," Chuck replied. Which wasn't assured, of course. He blinked. What if someone used the opportunity to get rid of them? Plant a bomb on the plane? Private jets of the CIA were guarded, but liners? The TSA wouldn't be able to keep a trained spy from planting an explosive or sabotaging the plane's electronics. Or poisoning the food onboard. Or…

He felt Sarah's squeeze his hand. "It'll be fine," Chuck.

He blinked. Had she read his mind? Or did she think he was afraid of flying? That wouldn't look good for his career. What kind of spy had a fear of flying? "It's alright," he said. "As long as our cover holds."

"Then better start acting more like a dumb tourist, Bartowski," Casey butted in. "Instead of a dumb idiot."

"'Idiot' already implies being dumb," Chuck retorted.

"Some idiots, you have to add a qualifier," Casey shot back.

"Yeah, I know one," Caridad cut in.

Fortunately, the line moved and interrupted the argument before it could start. Chuck hoped that the two would get seats far from each other.

He sighed and squeezed Sarah's hand. This wasn't exactly an auspicious start for his first mission to a foreign country.

Florida, Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood International Airport, January 5th, 2008

Four hours layover until the flight to Port-au-Prince. Long enough to be a pain, not long enough to actually go and rent a room. Or something. Chuck leaned back on the bench and closed his eyes. It was still early in the morning in Florida, and while he had slept on the flight, he was still tired. "Vacations are overrated," he said. At least the flight hadn't had any trouble.

"Technically, it's not a vacation," Sarah replied as she sat down next to him. "We're going to be working."

"But we're travelling as if we were normal tourists," he said. "So, if this were a normal vacation, it would be overrated."

"Don't let Big Mike hear that. He would think we were not properly grateful that he allowed us to take a vacation together," Morgan said.

Chuck glanced at him. His friend was rubbing his neck. "That inflatable pillow didn't work."

"Oh, let me," Bane said, standing up and walking behind him. "Yes, you're quite tensed," she said as she started to massage Morgan's neck.

"Oh… thank you!" Morgan sighed with apparent relief.

"You can return the favour," she told him.

"I will!"

If Chuck didn't know that Bane was a trained spy specialising in seducing marks, he'd assume they were a normal couple. A normal couple in love. He pressed his lips together. It wasn't his business. Well, technically, it was Chuck's fault, but Morgan knew that Bane was a spy. And that she was a honeypot. He could trust his friend, couldn't he?

"Do you need a massage as well?" Sarah interrupted his thoughts.

She probably was just reacting to Bane giving Morgan a massage. But Chuck did feel a little tensed. "I wouldn't turn one down," he said. "And I would return the favour."

Well, at least things were starting to look up. He suddenly laughed.

"Chuck?"

"Oh, nothing. I just realised how stupid it is to complain about the hardships of flying economy when we're trying to track down and deal with a possible Vodou-cult." And zombies. And, perhaps, more demon mercenaries. Some vacation.

Of course, Caridad was looking forward to fighting zombies and Vodouists. Casey probably as well.

If only they could stand each other again. Chuck wasn't an officer, or a natural leader or whatever, but having two members out of six angry at each other wasn't a good thing on a mission, no matter how professional they might claim to be.

Of course, having another member of questionable loyalty with them wasn't helping, either.

Spy missions in foreign countries were overrated.

Haiti, Aéroport International Toussaint Louverture, January 5th, 2008

Fort Lauderdale had been warm and humid, but it had nothing on Haiti. As soon as they stepped out of the airport, Chuck started to sweat. Not exactly the picture of a suave, smart spy. On the other hand, it fit his cover story. That was a small consolation, though.

But they piled into a climatised shuttle bus soon enough, and Chuck breathed a sigh of relief. "Don't get used to it," Casey snarled. "The yacht won't have air conditioning."

"But we'll be out on the sea," Sarah said. "The fresh breezes there will help."

Had everyone realised how uncomfortable he had been? Chuck shrugged. "I'll be fine," he lied.

"A week of sailing in the Caribbean!" Morgan exclaimed. His friend was playing the tourist role very well, Chuck had to admit. If Morgan was playing a role at all - he hadn't exactly taken many vacations, and never in the Caribbean, as far as Chuck knew. And given how he acted with Bane...

Chuck really had to talk to Morgan about Bane's work. Preferably before they were on the yacht and couldn't really talk without Bane - or the others - overhearing. Not that Caridad was likely to miss it anyway - the Slayer wouldn't leave Morgan or anyone else out of her sight, or at least her hearing range.

Yes, he'd talk to Morgan today. Once they had settled in at the hotel. Or, perhaps, after dinner.

He closed his eyes in frustration. He was procrastinating again.

Haiti, Port-au-Prince, La Villa Creole, January 5th, 2008

For the best hotel in Port-au-Prince - at least according to a quick web search - the menu in the restaurant wasn't very large. Of course it didn't really matter since they were only staying one day, but still… At least the food served was good, Chuck found.

And not too expensive, which was a boon given Caridad's appetite - the Slayer was ravaging the buffet. If Chuck ever had to find Slayers in hiding, he'd simply open an all-you-can-eat buffet and waited. He snorted at the thought, then blinked. What if demons did exactly that and poisoned the food? Perhaps he should mention this to the Council.

"So, what are we doing after dinner?" Morgan asked. "I heard there's this really hopping club in the city."

"We should discuss our yachting trip. Routes, supplies, etc.," Sarah replied.

"I thought that was already… Ah, right, yes. We need to discuss that. Routes and supplies, yes," Morgan said.

Chuck frowned. Not at Morgan's near-blunder. No, if they had a briefing after dinner, or a planning session, Chuck wouldn't be able to talk to Morgan in private.

Damn.

At least, dessert was great. And the hotel staff hadn't tried to throw out Caridad. Not yet, in any case - if they stayed longer, there would probably be issues with her appetite.

Sarah set up the laptop as soon as they were back in her and Chuck's room. They'd need it for the briefing. They'd had one in The Castle, but there was always something that came up afterwards. Sometimes something essential.

And when it concerned demons, Sarah wasn't about to take any risk that could be avoided. She was confident in her ability to adapt and overcome, to quote Casey, if a mission went pear-shaped, but zombies? Vodouists?

If only they could talk freely. But that was all Bane's fault. Chuck was nervous as well, more nervous than Sarah had expected. This might be his first mission in a foreign country, but he had been on dangerous missions before. She checked the clock on the laptop. Casey and the others wouldn't arrive for some time. Bane might even have a quickie with Grimes. Sarah shook her head as she turned to Chuck. "It'll be alright," she said.

"What?" He blinked. "Uh, sorry, I was lost in thoughts."

"I noticed," she said with a smile.

It didn't help to calm him down, though. "Uh, yeah, of course you noticed. Because you've been trained to notice, I mean…" he babbled.

"Chuck."

"Yes?"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing?"

She frowned at that. He should know better than to try to lie to her like that. And he should be a little better at lying, anyway.

He caved. "Sorry… I wanted to talk to Morgan. About Bane, you know?"

She didn't. "About Bane?" she prompted him, turning her seat to face him and crossing her legs. Which drew his attention - her skirt was shorter than her uniform in Wienerlicious.

"Uh… yes. I mean… I think he's a little too close to her, you know?"

That she knew, indeed. She nodded. "Yes."

"So, I wondered if, well, I could talk to him and remind him that she's a spy who's supposed to be spying on us, not like you and Casey," Chuck went on, gesturing with his hands.

"Technically, we're supposed to spy on you as well," she reminded him.

"Yes, but you and Casey don't, do you?" Chuck asked. Rhetorically. "But Bane…" He winced. "I don't want her to break Morgan's heart."

Sarah was more concerned with Bane turning Grimes. Or using him as a source of information. Men did stupid things when they were in love, and Grimes looked like he was falling in love. But Chuck's intervention would help with that, too. So she nodded. "Yes. And you want to talk to him in private."

"Yes. And I don't think we'll have a lot of privacy on the yacht. I mean, there are separate cabins, but…"

They weren't exactly sound-proof. "Yes. I'll see what I can arrange after the briefing."

"Thank you." His relieved smile made her feel both warm and slightly guilty.

"...and so we will sail to Petit-Troup-de-Nippes. Lindor's home village, a fishing village, is to the west of it, but approaching it from the sea would run the risk of being noticed if there are people who were involved in the attack on Agent Bane," Sarah said.

"They will pay attention to Americans on a yacht either way," Casey added, "and we won't be able to move around the village unobserved."

"We could stage a distraction," Bane said. "Draw the attention of any observer."

Of course Bane would think of that. It was a decent plan despite the source - Sarah had played a distraction herself - but the real reason they wanted to approach the village overland was so they could send in Caridad as a scout ahead of them, without giving the game away to Bane or the opposition. So Sarah replied: "The risk of being discovered is too great. We would need to sneak off the yacht at night for the exhumation, and afterwards, depending on the results, we might need to stay longer, which would require a good excuse."

"Something on the yacht could break," Bane proposed.

"That would result in a replacement yacht being sent, and probably more attention," Sarah retorted.

"And our budget won't thank us for it," Chuck added. "I think."

Sarah smiled at the joke. "Our best bet is to make a day trip in Petit-Troup-de-Nippes. We can spend a day at sea to analyse the results, then make landfall near the target village later, in case further operations are needed." Meaning, if they had to kill a few people. Or demons.

Caridad snorted. The Slayer wasn't planning on leaving any demons she encountered alive, Sarah knew. Or whole, in the case of zombies which couldn't be called alive, as far as Sarah knew.

"Do you disagree?" Bane asked.

"No." Caridad's own smile was toothy and about as honest as Bane's, in Sarah's opinion.

"Well, I think it's a good plan," Grimes said. "In and out, without anyone the wiser, right?" His smile faltered a little when the Slayer and the agent kept staring at each other. Well, he was sleeping with Bane, so he had brought that down upon himself, as far as Sarah was concerned.

"...and we will board the yacht tomorrow at eight."

A normal yacht, not one that was sporting nifty spy equipment, Chuck knew. Still, they would have scuba gear, harpoons, and sophisticated cameras. And Chuck's - limited, but recent . sailing experience would come in handy; neither Morgan and Caridad nor Bane had any sailing experience, and Casey's was probably limited to charging a beach.

It felt good to contribute without relying on the Intersect.

"Any questions? No? Good. This briefing's over, then. Agent Bane, a word."

And there vanished Chuck's good mood. Sarah was holding back Bane, so it was now or never. "Uh, I'll go and check if the shop has a computer magazine," he said, looking at Morgan and all but wiggling his eyebrows.

His friend didn't pick up his intentions, though. "Good idea! Can you get me the latest issue as well? Ow!"

"Sorry," Caridad said while Morgan rubbed his foot. "Didn't see you here."

"Really? Err…" Ah, the coin had just dropped. "Perhaps I'll check myself. A few newspapers would help our cover, right?"

Sometimes, having a Slayer eavesdrop on you was convenient.

"So, what was so important that you had Caridad crush my foot?" Morgan asked as soon as they were in the hallway.

"She didn't," Chuck replied. "Anyway, I wanted to talk to you. In private."

"And you asked Caridad for help? Isn't that kind of..." Morgan shrugged, probably remembering that they were still within the range of the Slayer's hearing.

"I wanted to talk to you about Bane," Chuck said as they descended the stairs.

"Kirsten? I told you, I have it under control," Morgan said. Chuck was reminded of a smoker claiming that they could quit anytime they wanted.

"It's not that," he lied. "Do you know about the last spy mission we did? When Caridad checked the hotel beforehand?"

"Err… shouldn't I?"

So he did, and Chuck wouldn't be revealing classified information. Good. "It was a sting. We set up a conman with a computer virus," he told Morgan. "Bane played my personal assistant. Who let the conman seduce her so he wouldn't get suspicious." There. He had said it.

"Ah, right."

That was a rather underwhelming reaction. Chuck had expected something more. He glanced at his friend as they entered the lobby. Morgan was looking straight ahead. "So, uh, I just wanted to let you know."

"I know she's a spy, Chuck. That's what spies do. James Bond does it all the time."

James Bond was a fictional spy. And didn't have a steady relationship. Not counting the Lazenby movie. But Morgan didn't want to talk about it, Chuck knew the signs. Like in fifth grade. He sighed. "So… if you want to talk about it… well, we won't be able to, on the yacht. But afterwards. I'll be here."

"It's fine, Chuck, really." Morgan pointed ahead and said, a little too loudly: "Look, there are the newspapers!"

That could've gone better.

Haiti, Port-au-Prince, Harbour, January 6th, 2008

Sarah could tell him how it wasn't much of an expense compared to other missions all she wanted, Chuck still was impressed by the yacht the CIA had rented for the group. Sleek, large enough to fit three couples comfortably and still easy to handle for a beginning sailor such as himself.

Of course, a yacht fit for three couples wasn't exactly ideal for two couples and a definitely-not-couple.

"I'll sleep on the deck. Someone has to stand watch anyway." Casey said after a look belowdecks.

"This isn't a Navy ship, Mr Marine." Caridad snorted. "I'll stand watch. You can sleep safe and sound in your bunk there. I'm the better guard anyway."

Chuck rolled his eyes. It was true - Slayer senses were far beyond a normal human - but to Bane, it had to sound like bragging. Or, worse, valuable intel.

"Everyone needs to sleep," Morgan cut in. "So how about a rotation?"

"We do need a watch on deck if we're sailing," Chuck pointed out. Which was why most such trips saw the yacht at anchor overnight in a bay or port - few tourists wanted to stand watch at night.

"We won't be sailing at night," Sarah said. "That would be too conspicuous."

Right. Chuck should have considered that. An experienced spy would have. He cleared his throat. "In any case, a watch is still a good idea."

"Yes," Morgan agreed. "There could be pirates!"

"Pirates?" Caridad blinked.

"More like robbers going after rich tourists who just happen to be on a boat instead of in a car, but technically, that makes them pirates," Chuck explained.

"Err, yes." Morgan nodded. Chuck saw him mouth something towards Caridad. Probably 'zombie pirates' or 'pirate ghosts'. There hadn't been any reports about ghost ships in the area according to Phil, but that didn't rule them out. And where there were zombies, zombie pirates were a distinct possibility.

"Let them come!" Caridad announced, smacking the palm of her left hand with her fist.

Casey scoffed, which triggered another exchange of glares.

They were off to a good start, indeed.

Caribbean Sea, West of Port-au-Prince, January 6th, 2008

An hour after leaving port, Chuck was in a better mood. The weather was perfect - sunny with a light breeze just strong enough to let them sail at a nice pace and turn what might have been a humid heat into comfortable weather. And everyone was maintaining their cover. Which meant they were doing what tourists did - relaxing. Or sunning themselves in bikinis on the foredeck, in the case of the women on board. Which wasn't as great as it appeared at first sight.

He sighed as he adjusted the course of the yacht a little to compensate for the wind's drift. He didn't mind the view, so to speak, but he couldn't help feeling as if he were watching a competition or pageant, not three girls enjoying a vacation.

"It's a great day, isn't it? Here, have a drink!" Morgan had returned from belowdecks and handed him a coke.

"Thank you."

"This is great," Chuck's friend went on. "Like a dream vacation."

Chuck knew what kind of dream Morgan meant - his friend was staring at Bane. Who looked more like a pinup girl or Playboy model posing for a shoot than a tourist on vacation. "Enjoy it while it lasts," he replied. "We'll arrive at Petit-Troup-de-Nippes in the afternoon." At which point the mission would start for real.

"Don't get distracted," Casey growled from their left. Port, Chuck reminded himself. The agent was fishing but hadn't caught any fish yet. "We're on a mission, not on a pleasure cruise."

"Kirsten would say it can be both," Morgan replied.

Casey scoffed at that. As did Caridad, Chuck noticed - another reminder of how awkward Slayer hearing could be.

Haiti, Petit-Troup-de-Nippes, January 6th, 2008

"Let's check the market!" Sarah said - a little too loudly - as she grabbed Chuck's arm. They were tourists, after all. Harmless tourists, not trained spies on a mission.

"Yes!" Bane agreed. "And let's find a nice restaurant for dinner."

Sarah's smile slipped a little. If not for the spy, this could feel like a real vacation. Chuck and her, exploring the town. Granted, she was wearing a few throwing spikes in a thigh holster under her short summer dress, and she carried a gun in her purse, but she'd do that on a vacation as well - tourists were targets for criminals, after all.

But they were on a mission, which meant they had to stick together. Well, with the exception of Casey, who had stayed on the yacht, and Caridad, who was 'roaming', as the Slayer had told them. Probably trying to sniff out demons - literally, in this case.

Sarah chuckled at the thought.

"Hm?" Chuck was looking at her.

"Just a funny thought I had," she told him. "Let's enjoy the evening." And, at least she hoped so, the night before Caridad returned to the yacht.

"Alright," he said, smiling at her. "Window shopping, then?"

"Yes." Just like a couple on vacation. Or on their honeymoon. She grabbed his arm, and they strolled down the road.

It was a beautiful day. Just enough of a breeze to keep the temperature from being too hot, but no clouds, not even a hint of rain. And while there were a lot of souvenir shops, there were also enough shops that looked genuine to make window shopping enjoyable instead of an exercise in maintaining cover.

"Oh, look, a stuffed shark! Wouldn't that be a nice gift for Big Mike? A counterpart to his Marlin!"

If only Grimes would stop falling for every tourist trap in the town! Couldn't Bane monopolise his attention?

"I don't know, Morgan. Doesn't he usually prefer trophies he caught himself?"

"That's what he claims."

"That still means he won't like a shark that everyone will know he didn't catch," Chuck pointed out. "And I don't think it'll fit into our luggage."

"We can have it shipped home, though," Bane said.

"Right!" Grimes perked up. "So… how much is it?"

A glance at the vendor's grin told Sarah that Grimes would pay far too much for the fish. Well, he had brought it upon himself.

And, she discovered soon afterwards, having to drag a shark around that was almost his own size certainly made it harder for Grimes to engage Chuck in conversation.

She used the opportunity. "So, Chuck, what kind of dinner do you fancy?"

But Chuck was blinking at a stand with several carved figurines.

Chuck drew a deep breath when his vision returned to normal. This was bad. Really bad. "Guys, I flashed," he whispered, glancing around. There were too many people nearby to talk about this.

Sarah took charge. "Let's go find a place to eat," she said. "Sailing all day is hungry work."

"Chuck and I did most of the sailing," Morgan cut in. "Didn't you mostly sunbathe?" Sarah shot Chuck's friend a glare that had him wince even as Bane chuckled. "Dinner it is!" Morgan added hastily.

They found a nice little restaurant in a side alley. Far enough from the most obvious tourist traps so they wouldn't be serving tourist food, but not so far that the group would stick out too much. And it had authentic Haitian cuisine, as far as Chuck could tell. Unless that was 'authentic Haitian cuisine for tourists'.

But he had intel to share. "Guys," he whispered, leaning forward as soon as the waitress had left to fetch their drinks, "the carved figurines? Used by a syndicate to smuggle drugs to New York."

"A syndicate?" Morgan asked. "Like a cartel?"

"Locals, I think," Bane said. "Probably Mathew's old gang. I don't think foreigners would get away with moving drugs on someone else's turf."

Sarah nodded. "We'll have to assume that they'll have a significant presence in the town. Including contacts among the local police and authorities."

That sounded bad. Even worse than Chuck had thought.

"And some loyal followers in the Vodou cult," Morgan added.

Could things go even worse? Chuck winced at his own thought. Tempting Murphy was a really bad idea. "We need to inform Caridad," he said. "She isn't aware of this. Casey as well."

"I'll inform her," Morgan said, pulling out his phone and starting to text. Sarah merely nodded and did likewise.

"The drug smugglers might have made a deal to avenge Mathew's death to get cooperation and support from his family," Bane said. "Wouldn't be the first time people did such a thing."

Chuck nodded, even though he suspected there was more to this. "We still need to check the grave," he said. "And Caridad might find out more intel."

"She's still roaming," Morgan reported. "She hasn't encountered any trouble so far."

That meant no zombies or demons. No drug smugglers, either. Probably - Caridad's definition of 'no trouble' was, sometimes at least, a little generous. At least in Chuck's experience. But as long as Morgan didn't seem to be concerned…

The waitress returned with their drinks, and everyone played tourist again. That was the safest course of action until they knew more about the enemy.

But the Haitian food, genuine or not, was excellent.

They returned to the yacht after dinner. Perhaps a little early for tourists, but they had the excuse of being tired. Morgan certainly was tired from lugging around a stuffed shark. Chuck could only imagine Big Mike's reaction.

Casey had cooked the single fish he had caught, not that it had improved his disposition, at least in Chuck's opinion. "So, things just got a little more interesting," the agent said in lieu of a greeting.

"Yes," Sarah replied. "Though we suspected such a setup," she added, with a glance at Bane. "We don't know yet where the organisation is based; here or in Lindor's home village."

And whether or not zombies - and Vodouists - were involved, Chuck thought.

"Well, we've got a long day ahead of us," Sarah said. "We best get some rest now."

She meant before Caridad returned, Chuck knew.

"Good idea," Bane agreed.

For a moment, the two spies glanced at each other, then Sarah headed belowdecks. "Coming, Chuck?"

He did, of course.

"...so, I didn't find anything unusual or interesting," Caridad said between eating a sandwich large enough to feed Big Mike for a day. "Town looks clean. Suspiciously clean, even."

No supernatural threats, then. Which was, by itself, a little suspicious. Or more than a little. The Vodouists might be keeping a tighter lid on their area than expected. Although if they controlled the town as well, then Caridad should have discovered signs of that. Magic, especially warding magic, usually used some visible signs. Symbols, talismans, runes.

"No sign of any criminal activities?" Bane asked.

"None related to drug smuggling," Caridad replied. "I didn't bother with thieves and the like." She took a bottle of soda and drank half of it in a few swallows, then burped loudly. Phil would have been appalled at the sight, Chuck thought, slightly amused.

"Do we stick with the plan, then?" Morgan asked. "Day trip tomorrow, Caridad goes ahead scouting the village while we play tourists?"

"Yes," the Slayer said at once.

"I'll provide backup," Casey said. "I've dealt with cartels before."

"I can handle it," Caridad retorted at once. "You'd slow me down."

"Rushing in will endanger the mission," the agent growled.

"It's just a scouting mission; I could do it in my sleep."

"After the attack in Los Angeles was foiled, they might expect such an intrusion and could be prepared," Casey pointed out.

Caridad scoffed. "They're not prepared for me, or they would have hired more people!"

"Overconfidence is a fatal weakness," Casey countered.

"Yes." Caridad bared her teeth.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Chuck raised his hands. "Time-out. We're a team, aren't we? So, we should be working together." Caridad glared at him, but he managed not to flinch. "Uh… and you two are our best scouts for this. So…" The glare intensified, and he trailed off. They knew what he wanted, anyway.

"Yes," Morgan said, nodding. "I can't provide much backup here, so Casey would be the better choice. Seeing as he's done this before. With drug smugglers, I mean."

"We're on a mission," Sarah added. Bane nodded as well.

Caridad looked from one to the other, then stuffed the rest of the sandwich into her mouth, glaring at the wall.

Chuck took that as agreement. A very grudging agreement, but agreement nonetheless. With Slayers, you had to take what you could get.

Haiti, West of Petit-Troup-de-Nippes, January 6th, 2008

"I feel a little guilty," Chuck said as they stopped their rental car at a nice spot on the coast; a bluff above a cosy-looking small cove that would be ideal for swimming - or to anchor a yacht.

"Hm?" Sarah turned her head to look at him, lowering her binoculars.

"Caridad and Casey are scouting, and we're playing tourists," he explained.

"We're doing our part," she replied. "And we're doing reconnaissance," she added, "in case we need to sail here. Which is likely since I doubt Caridad can exhume Lindor's body by herself."

"Good point," Chuck admitted. "Certainly not in the middle of the day - but don't tell her that or she might try it."

That made her laugh. "She would, wouldn't she?"

"Unless she thought it was a trick to make her do all the work."

"Did you do that before?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Well… Morgan did," he admitted. "But I helped. A little."

"Ah." She laughed again. "You'll have to tell me the whole story, once we're done here."

She probably meant the entire mission. Chuck hoped so, at least - there was no way he'd tell that story where Caridad might overhear him. He changed the subject. "I hope no one will break into the yacht."

"We took all our spy gear with us," Sarah replied. "They won't find anything."

He knew that. "But we would have to react like typical tourists, wouldn't we?"

"Yes. Complain to the police, and go on. We won't actually have to deal with the paperwork with the rental agency, though. It's just an act, after all."

"Ah." 'Just an act'. He knew the feeling. Sometimes he felt as if his whole work as an intelligence asset was just an act. He wasn't a trained spy; he was just a walking Intersect interface. With an expiration date on his usefulness - although Dad could probably change that. If they pulled off their deception. But the CIA would notice, wouldn't they? On the other hand, by that time, they'd be working for the Council. If everything went according to plan. Which would…

Sarah's sudden curse interrupted his thoughts. "Casey sent a message. There's trouble."

"What happened?" Chuck asked.

But Sarah was already pulling out the radios. Of course - text communication wouldn't work well in a battle; Call of Duty had proved that already.

As Sarah as setting up the radio, Bane was grabbing weapons from the hollow bottom of the suitcase in the car and assembling them. And Morgan did the same with the Watcher gear, if not as smoothly.

What could Chuck do if there wasn't anything to flash on? He clenched his teeth and went to help Morgan with the crossbows. They were modern ones, far easier to disassemble and hide in luggage than the classics Giles and others preferred.

"Someone spotted Caridad, Casey said. It seems that the entire village is chasing her," Sarah informed them.

"The entire village?" Chuck blinked. And why hadn't she torn through them already? "Oh no!"

"These Vodouists use living zombies," Morgan said, echoing Chuck's thoughts. "Mind-controlled minions."

"What?" Bane stared at them, holding a carbine in her hands. M4, Chuck noted.

"They are controlled through a combination of substances and conditioning," he explained, "and triggered by orders. Like a village of sleeper agents."

That she understood - he saw her frown. "They won't be trained combatants, though. It shouldn't be too hard to deal with them."

But apparently, she didn't understand that you couldn't just kill mind-controlled minions. Well, you could, but it was wrong. Very wrong - Chuck didn't really remember the bezoar incident, but he had been told about it. If Buffy had shown less restraint… "We can't kill them," he said, staring at Bane. "We need to take out the Vodouist controlling them. And his men."

"We're here to find out who's behind the attack in Lindor's name," Bane replied.

"Which this situation is part of," Chuck told her, climbing into the car. "Now let's go."

"Yes," Morgan agreed - if a little belatedly - as he joined them.

Sarah smiled at Chuck before she gunned the engine and started racing towards the village as if this were Paris-Dakar.

So much for Bane's morals, Sarah thought as she drove down the unpaved road - more like a dirt track, really. You didn't propose to kill mind-controlled civilians; not to Chuck and Grimes, at least.

Even though they might have to, at one point, she added as she gritted her teeth. Some of the villagers might have weapons and knew how to use them. And some might be mind-controlled drug smugglers or mercenaries. Why pay your hired help if you could simply turn them into zombies? She shuddered at the thought.

Though the thought that some people in the agency would want to use the same method to create sleeper agents of their own was even more chilling. If the CIA started dabbling in magic… Perhaps they would have to join the Council before officially quitting the agency.

But this wasn't the time to dwell on such thoughts. They had a Slayer and an NSA agent to rescue. She accelerated some more and slid around the next turn. At her current speed, it was about ten minutes to the village.

"They're using villagers to herd her while setting up snipers; engaged and neutralised two so far," Casey reported over the radio. "But they've made my position."

"Why doesn't she just rush out of the village?" Chuck asked. "She could easily go through a dozen fishers."

"She's probably trying to get to the Vodouist," Grimes replied.

That would fit the Slayer, in Sarah's mentality. Too stubborn and focused on her target for her own good.

"Caridad?" Chuck tried to raise her.

"Busy!" they heard the Slayer's reply. "They have more of those mercenaries here!"

Demons, then. Of course.

"They've covered the escape routes," Casey said. They could hear automatic fire over the radio. "There are far too many for mere guards. This is an ambush. A trap." A curse followed, then more shots. "I'm going to…"

The transmission broke off.

"Casey? Casey?" Chuck asked, almost yelling at the radio. "Casey?"

"Casey?" That was Caridad on the radio.

Sarah pressed her lips together. His radio could have been hit. Or lost. That the transmission had been cut off even pointed towards that.

But any hit that could take out a radio could take out a man as well.

"I'm going after him!" Caridad announced. Then she cursed in Spanish. "They have him!"

"We're coming," Chuck told her. "We're almost there."

"Don't do anything rash," Grimes added.

Sarah hoped that the Slayer would listen. But she feared the girl wouldn't.

This was bad. Very, very bad. Casey captured. Caridad about to go ballistic. And they were still a few minutes out. Chuck shook his head. His friends were in mortal danger, and he couldn't do anything to help them. He hadn't flashed on anything. Couldn't provide any information. And he wasn't even as good a shot with a crossbow as Morgan was.

He was the weakest link. And he loathed it.

"We're almost there," Sarah said.

"We're almost there," Chuck told Caridad. At least he could use the radio, freeing the others for more important tasks.

"They dragged him to the centre of the village," she replied.

Damn. "We're almost there," he repeated himself. "Hold out."

"I'm not the one in trouble," she retorted.

But she would jump headfirst into trouble for her friends, Chuck knew. And Casey, for all her issues with him, was her friend. Their friend. He cleared his throat. "Uh…"

Bane's scream interrupted him. "Ambush!"

A moment later, there was an explosion, and the car flipped.

And everything went black.

Chuck blinked, shaking his head, as he woke up. The first thing he saw was a man in a white suit. He flashed. Paul Obas. Drug Runner turned gang leader. Working with the cartels to supply New York. Suspected of multiple murders. Brutal murders.

Obas yelled: "We have your allies! If you want to save them, surrender, Slayer!"

What? Chuck tried to move and realised that someone was holding his arms. Two someones. Big, burly men. Or demons - his arms felt as if they were locked in vices. And there was Casey, on the ground, at the man's feet. He looked much worse than Chuck felt. Someone had roughed the agent up.

"Did you hear me, Slayer? Surrender, or we'll kill your friends - slowly!" Obas grinned, showing gold-plated teeth.

Ah. Chuck blinked again. No! He turned his head. Morgan and Bane were held by thugs as well. At least Bane's disguise seemed to have fooled the thugs. For now. And Sarah… No!

Sarah was getting dragged towards Obas.

"Perhaps the woman can serve to show the Slayer that we're serious."

No! No! They were going to torture Sarah to get Caridad. In front of Chuck. No! He struggled, but to no avail - the men holding him laughed. He kicked out, but didn't have the right leverage, and only caused more laughter. "Sarah! Let her go!" he yelled.

"Did you hear him, Slayer? Last chance!"

No! No! Chuck started to pant when he realised that he would have to watch her getting tortured. Helpless. Useless. Useless. He shook his head, tears gathering in his eyes. "Let her go!"

More laughter.

Sarah was forced on her knees and Obas crouched in front of her, flashing a stiletto.

And, suddenly, Chuck knew Kung Fu. And Muay Thai. And how to escape. And...