Chapter 25: The Hotel Dilemma

California, Malibu, Malibu Beach Inn, January 24th, 2008

"Aphrodesia Walker. How nice to see you," Chuck lied, forcing himself to smile. What was a former member of Cordelia's highschool clique doing here of all places? Should he have lied and claimed he was Charles Carmichael? But Aphrodesia wasn't Harmony; she wouldn't have bought that. And now Sarah was glaring at him. Damn.

"It's Brown," she said, holding up her hand, displaying a ring. "Freshly married to Ralph!"

Chuck didn't have to flash to know it was very expensive. "Congratulations," he said.

She fake-gasped. "Oh, I'm sorry we didn't invite you - we didn't know your address."

What she meant was that he hadn't been important enough - not rich, not popular - for her to care about, Chuck knew. "This is Sarah," he said. "Sarah Walker."

"Oh, we've got the same name. Well, we had the same name," Aphrodesia said, smiling. "We're not related, though, are we?"

"No, we aren't," Sarah said with a smile that looked more honest than Aphrodesia's, but was as fake, as far as Chuck could tell. "I've researched my family tree a while ago."

"Ah." Aphrodesia nodded. "I should do that as well, I think. We should do it," she said, smiling at Ralph. "Imagine what we might find!"

"Right," her husband agreed.

"So, what are you doing here?" she asked, turning her attention back to Chuck. Or, rather, to his clothes. And to Sarah.

He needed an excuse. "Ah… Well, it's a little embarrassing, you know." He flashed her a smile as she leaned a little forward.

"Really?" She beamed at him. "Oh… you were on the way to the restaurant, right? We too! Let's dine together!"

Obviously, Charles Carmichael's taste in clothes and girlfriend was good - expensive - enough for her. Chuck nodded with a fake smile. "We'd love to."

As they turned to take the lead, he glanced at Sarah - and winced. She was glaring at him and showing her clenched teeth.

Drat.

What was Chuck thinking, blowing their cover like this? Sarah forced herself to smile before the other woman turned around to address them. "Table for four, at the window, OK?"

"Yes," Sarah lied. She sent another glare at Chuck as soon as the woman turned around again.

"Sorry!" he mouthed at her as they followed the Browns to their table.

"Who are those people?" Casey asked through the radio.

"She's an old school friend of Chuck's who recognised him," Sarah replied in a whisper.

"She's not a friend," Chuck insisted.

"Can it, Carmichael," Casey replied. "And fix this before it ruins the mission."

They reached the table, and Sarah moved quickly to ensure she took a seat with a good view of Adams's table and the rest of the restaurant.

"So… 'embarrassing'?" the woman prompted with an eager smile as soon as everyone was seated.

"Ah, yes," Chuck said, nodding. "You see, we're here because of Ellie, my sister. You remember her?"

"Of course I do," the woman obviously lied.

"So, she's recently gotten engaged to a colleague at work - she's a physician, a neurologist, in Los Angeles, you know - and, well, we're planning to gift them two weeks here as a honeymoon," Chuck said.

"Oh? So you're here to check out the hotel?" Ralph asked.

"Yes. Although under a fake name - wouldn't want the hotel to know about this, right?"

The woman nodded emphatically at Chuck's bullshit story. Adams hadn't talked to anyone yet, not counting the waiter.

"Only, Ellie and Devon were stressed from the wedding preparations, so we spontaneously booked them for the weekend," Chuck went on. "After we had already booked under a fake name. So, we're kind of trying to hide from them, or they might feel as if we're watching them. And some people might think we're cheating on each other, or something."

"Ah." The woman nodded a little too emphatically again. "And what have you been doing since graduation?"

"Oh, I went to Stanford. Computer sciences. After graduation, I started working as an IT consultant. Security systems, data analysis, custom search algorithms - there's a lot of demand for experts in that field."

"Well-paid, too, I'd say," she replied.

"Well..." Chuck shrugged. "Supply and demand, right?"

Ralph nodded. "Words to live by. I'm in investment banking myself."

"And you, Sarah?" Brown asked.

"I've got my own business. Gastronomy," Sarah said.

"Ah."

Sarah didn't like her smile. Not at all. "And you?" she asked with her best fake smile.

"Oh, I worked as a style consultant until I met Ralph," Brown replied.

"Ah." Sarah returned the woman's smile with interest.

Ralph cleared his throat. "So… you went to high school together? In Sunnydale?"

"Yes." Chuck nodded. "We were in the same year. She was a member of Cordelia Chase's clique."

Sarah noted that Brown didn't like being referred to in that way. Good to know.

"And he was part of the nerds," the woman replied.

"Good old Sunnydale high school. It was such a blow when it blew up at our graduation," Chuck said with a sigh.

"It blew up at your graduation?" Ralph blinked, then stared at his wife. "You never told me about that!"

"Ah, I don't like talking about it. Or thinking about it. I lost a friend in the explosion," Brown said. "Poor Harmony."

Her? A friend of Harmony? And she didn't even know that the woman was now a vampire? Yeah, right.

"Oh, I'm sorry, darling." Ralph grabbed her hand. "I didn't want to bring up sad memories."

"It's OK. It's been years, after all." Brown sniffled for effect.

Well, Brown wouldn't be a good spy. Or a good actress, in Sarah's opinion. That was the worst acting she had seen since Grime's attempt to convince Chuck that he needed an extra day off work.

"...of course we won't tell Ellie about your presence, right, Ralph?"

"Sure, darling."

It was going well, in Chuck's opinion. Thanks to a little fast-talking, he had managed to solve this potential problem and save the mission. And there hadn't been too many embarrassing high school stories told - mutually assured destruction worked, after all. "Thank you," he said, smiling.

"Oh, of course - I know how it is, having to deal with family," Ralph told him. "My mother wanted to run our wedding for us."

Aphrodesia winced at that, Chuck noted. He nodded. "It's a lot of work, organising a wedding. I would have hired a wedding planner, but…" He shrugged. "Ellie's been the mom of the family since our parents disappeared years ago."

"Ah, right," Aphrodesia nodded as if she had just remembered that the Bartowskis had effectively been orphans in Sunnydale. "I mean… I didn't want to bring it up," she added, not quite convincingly.

"Thank you," Chuck told her.

"Wow… I mean, I've heard about the sinkhole, but…" Ralph trailed off, looking embarrassed.

"Oh, we were already living in L.A. when that happened, or Stanford, for me," Chuck said. "But a couple friends of mine were among the last to get out before the whole town was sunk."

"Oh? That must have been terrifying." Ralph shook his head. "Are they OK?"

"Oh, yes," Chuck replied. "They're now living in England, most of the time, working for an NGO."

"You mean Summers and the others?" Aphrodesia asked. "England?"

"Yes." She must not have kept in touch with anyone from her old clique, Chuck realised - Cordelia would have told her friends about the Scoobies, before her death. But then, apart from Aura, none of the Cordettes had shown up to Cordelia's funeral, had they? Well, Harmony probably would have, if the funeral had been held at night.

"Wow. Who'd have expected that? Although… wasn't the librarian they always hung out with from England?"

"Giles," Chuck told her. "And yes, he's from England. Old Money," he added, just because of her attitude.

"Oh? An honest British Lord?" Ralph asked.

"What? And he worked at Sunnydale High School?" Aphrodesia shook her head.

"He, uh, had a falling out with his family and wanted to see the world," Chuck said, wincing - and hoping this wouldn't get back to Giles. "But they reconciled. And he's upper class, but not actual nobility, I believe." Though as far as Chuck knew, the leader of the Watchers Council often was knighted, once a sufficient pretext could be found. He shrugged. "But I didn't really know him well, you know - he wasn't really fond of computers." Which was an understatement, of course.

"Unlike Willow," Sarah cut in.

"Oh, Rosenberg. The biggest nerd in school," Aphrodesia said, giggling. "Cordelia was always on her case."

"One of the smartest people I've met," Sarah said with a toothy smile. "And I've met a number of Chuck's friends and teachers from Stanford."

Aphrodesia frowned at the subtle rebuke and took a sip from her wine to mask her reaction, or so Chuck thought. He hadn't known Sarah was so fond of Willow as to defend her like that, though. "She's also quite known in the information technology scene," he added.

"Really?" Aphrodesia's frown grew more pronounced.

"Yes," Chuck went on, "she discovered quite a number of network security exploits." He winced when he felt someone - Sarah - pinch his thigh. He glanced at her, but she was looking at Adams. Who was getting up from his table.

Oh. And they were stuck here with the Browns. He cleared his throat, trying to think of an excuse. Perhaps…

Sarah rose next to him, holding up her cell phone. "I'm sorry, but I need to take this call - work," she said. "I don't know, though, how long it'll take me to sort this out. Please don't wait for me."

She turned and walked away before the Browns could say anything in response, leaving him with them.

He smiled as best as he managed. "Sorry, she works very hard… Did Aphrodesia tell you about the time there was a cheerleader audition and a girl caught fire?"

Sarah kept the phone pressed to her ear even after she had left the restaurant. There were cameras, after all - and it was also a good cover. Adams was already halfway up the stairs - was he returning to his room? He hadn't passed on the prototype, so his contact hadn't met him, yet. A dead drop was possible, but she thought that unlikely. If Fulcrum were planning to use a dead drop for this, they wouldn't have sent Adams to a hotel.

But his contact could be waiting in his room, having sneaked in during the meal.

They would have to observe the room and check. And with Bane currently working as a waitress, they hadn't many options to do that.

"I need to check that on my laptop," she said, a little more loudly than usual, then started up the stairs, after Adams. Mumbling more fragments of a fictional conversation, she kept him in view - they had placed surveillance in the hallways and stairs, but that wouldn't help if they had to move quickly to tail someone making contact with the courier.

But Adams didn't talk to anyone, or touch anyone, before he entered his room. Which was facing the sea, therefore denying anyone a good spot to look into it. But that also meant there was not much of a risk of anyone observing her room.

Not from the outside, at least. A few keystrokes displayed the feed from the camera covering the balcony of Adams's room - from the side, unfortunately- on her laptop, but no one was climbing out there. She quickly pulled her dress off and slipped into dark grey jeans and a tight sweater as well as trainers. A cap to hide her blonde hair followed, and she was ready.

But she hesitated a moment. If Adams had a camera covering the facade, this would alert him. No. He was a courier, a driver. Not a spy.

She went out, crouching, and quickly looked for anyone out on the balconies with a view of her route. Seeing no one, she slid over the railing and started climbing.

There were two balconies between hers and Adams's. The first was dark - as was the room connected to it. No sweat; Sarah traversed it without stopping. The second, though, was illuminated from inside.

She hung from the railing and peered through the bars. Oh. That was an affectionate couple. But also a distracted one. She pulled herself up and over the railing, landing on the balcony without a sound. A last check - they still weren't paying attention to anything outside their bed - and she dashed past the door, then onto the railing.

Another leap and a quick move later, she could peer into Adams's room. Where the man was watching tv on his bed.

She moved a little; the risk of being spotted increased, but she had to change her position to cover the entire room. Adams was alone. A former race car driver turned courier, watching sitcoms in his room? By himself? Well, there went plan b, aka "plan Bane". If Adams was content watching tv in the evening, he would probably smell a trap if a maid came on to him.

"Room's clear. He's watching a sitcom," she whispered into her radio, then started the climb back. They'd have to keep the balcony and door under surveillance during the night, of course, but she had a feeling that Adams's contact wouldn't make a move tonight. They probably hadn't even arrived yet.

Sarah returned after fifteen minutes. Chuck didn't quite sigh with relief - he wasn't desperate; he still had some tales from Stanford left, and neither he nor Aphrodesia had mentioned Cordelia so far - but he was grateful for the distraction anyway. "Hey, honey!" he exclaimed. "All problems sorted out?"

She nodded. "It's admirable that my staff work late if they feel they have to close a contract, but it's not so admirable that they needed my help to actually do so," she said as she sat down next to him. "Sorry about that."

"Oh, it's OK," Ralph said. "I've been there myself. He smiled as he took Aphrodesia's hand. "She's the first woman I met who could stand my working hours, but I had to promise her not to work on our honeymoon."

Chuck wasn't the best expert on women, but he would've thought that was pretty obvious. He certainly wouldn't want to even think about work on his honeymoon. Or be able to, he added with a glance at Sarah.

Fortunately, the dinner ended soon after dessert and the Browns left for their own room. "I guess she remembered why they're here," he heard Sarah mutter as she and Chuck made their way to their own room.

That was a little catty, in Chuck's opinion. Something Cordelia would have said if she were feeling nice. "Well, we hadn't talked since high school," he said.

"And not much during high school, either," she replied. It wasn't a question.

"Uh… yes," he admitted. "But it was the same with Cordelia."

"I somehow doubt that the new Mrs Brown will decide to join the fight against demons," Sarah remarked as they entered their own room.

"Well, at least she won't rat us out to Ellie," Chuck retorted.

"Probably not." Sarah nodded. "But we can't count on that."

What? "Do you think we'll have to tell Ellie why we're here?" Chuck didn't want to. She'd worry. And might do something stupid as a result.

"I hope not," Sarah said."

That sounded less reassuring than Chuck would have liked.

At least he had managed to preserve his cover. Or so he hoped.

California, Malibu, Malibu Beach Inn, January 25th, 2008

"Adams must be scamming his employer out of a paid vacation," Chuck commented as he glanced at the lunch menu the hotel was offering. "I bet he's scheduled contact for Sunday." Otherwise, the courier would have handed over the prototype already, and the mission would be over. Mostly.

"He's maintaining his cover," Sarah replied, putting her menu down and shifting on her chair near the pool. "Sticking to schedules that fit a vacation makes it harder to trace such couriers or spies."

Chuck looked at her over the rim of his sunglasses, and she grinned. After all, she had introduced the concept of 'maintaining your cover' to him by taking out a sailing yacht on the CIA's dime. He huffed, and she giggled.

"Perks of the job," she said.

"It's a problem for us, though," he replied. "Ellie and Devon will arrive in the evening." Or late afternoon, depending on how fast they drove.

"Brown's more of a problem," Sarah pointed out. "Ellie knows that we're spies."

"But she won't believe that we're here by coincidence," Chuck retorted.

"Why not? What possible reason would we have for wanting them to be present during a mission?" Sarah looked honestly puzzled.

"Sis isn't always logical," Chuck told her. "Especially not when it concerns family." Though, to be fair, some of the excuses Chuck and Morgan had tried to use on Ellie in their teenage years might have played a part in that. 'Occam's Razor' was still a four-letter word, as far as she was concerned. Or a sure sign someone was trying to scam her.

"Well, we'll have to talk to them, then."

"Once they arrive, right." Chuck nodded.

Sarah looked at him, then tapped her phone. What… Oh.

He felt dumb. "I'll call her during her lunch break."

Sarah smiled. Sometimes, she envied Chuck for having a family - well, their fathers were kind of alike, both in trouble with the law and absent since their teenage years - but not always. This was certainly one of the times she didn't envy him.

"What do I say if she wants to cancel the trip?" Chuck asked.

"Do you think she would?" Sarah didn't believe so herself. Both Bartowskis hated to waste money, especially so much of it. And the general wouldn't like it either - for a different reason, though.

"Good point," Chuck acknowledged. He sighed. "Well, it should be safe."

"Yes," Sarah agreed. Fulcrum were traitors and ruthless, but they were professionals. Killing civilians was, barring false flag operations and similar circumstances, unprofessional. It drew too much attention from authorities, which no spy agency liked. And this was a simple drop-off, not an assassination mission. At least for Fulcrum. "So… have you decided on your lunch?" she asked.

Chuck didn't reply right away. He was staring at a woman walking through the lobby towards the reception, she noticed. No, not staring. Flashing.

He blinked, shaking his head slightly, "That's Emma Bones. A former CIA spy. Retired five years ago for medical reasons, but went freelance afterwards. Her speciality is, uh, honeypot missions."

Sarah frowned. Retired for medical reasons, but working freelance? Someone either made a deal to cover up something shady, or someone pulled strings to get her out of the CIA. Probably Fulcrum - her presence here couldn't be a coincidence. "That might explain why Adams was watching reruns last night - if she's supposed to be his vacation affair, having a one-night stand could complicate things."

"Ah." Chuck nodded. "Uh… so… she's his contact?"

"Probably. We'll have to verify it." She leaned back a little. "Casey, did you catch that?" she whispered.

"Yeah," the NSA agent replied through the radio. "I'll inform the general."

"Copy. We'll be waiting for further instructions," Sarah mumbled. It was the general's call whether they were to tag Bones to track her or to capture her. Sarah would prefer to arrest the woman - Bones was ex-CIA, so she knew how things worked and would be checking for tails and bugs.

"So… we need to observe both of them now? Adams and Bones?" Chuck asked.

"For now," Sarah confirmed. Bones just finished checking in and was now headed to her room - presumably.

"I'm tracking her through the cameras," Bane informed them over the radio. "I've heard of her; she's good."

Of course, Bane would have heard of Bones. Probably studied her old missions in training, Sarah thought.

"If she's not in a rush, she won't make contact with him until tomorrow evening," Bane went on. "That looks less suspicious, and she won't have to spend more than one night with him."

Sarah refrained from reminding Bane that she knew how such things worked. "Keep an eye on her. She might break with the pattern," she told the other spy instead.

"So, uh… what do we do?" Chuck asked. "Casey's contacting the general, Bane's on surveillance…"

"We eat lunch," she told him with a smile. "And you call Ellie."

"Uh."

Chuck rejoined her at the pool after lunch. Sarah could tell from one look at his expression that his call hadn't gone well. "She's still coming, right?"

He sighed and nodded as he sat down next to her. "Yes. I didn't even mention the possibility, and she still told me that she doesn't want to 'waste so much money', or so she claims." He closed his eyes. "What a mess."

"Look happy," she told him. "Your school friend is swimming and might notice."

"She's not a school friend. If she didn't think I was rich now, she wouldn't give me the time of day - she'd probably complain to the manager about my presence, instead," he replied. "She's as egocentric as Harmony, just not as dumb."

Sarah had known that, of course - she knew the type. Chuck had mentioned it before, too. And she knew Harmony. But they were on a mission. "Well, since she thinks you're now rich enough to be her friend, she will pay attention to you. So better look happy before she thinks there's trouble."

"Right, right." He flashed a quite obviously fake smile at her.

She chuckled in response. "Almost."

His next smile was better - good enough. "So… is our courier still playing tourist?"

"Yes." Adams was lounging near the bar, his second drink - of the afternoon - in hand. "Nothing suspicious happened yet, but…" she trailed off. There was Bones at the entrance to the pool area, in a bikini that probably covered less than her sunglasses did.

She leaned a little forward, masking the movement by grabbing her own drink. "Bones arrived," she reported in a whisper. "She's closing in on Adams." Who had the lighter in his shirt pocket.

"Copy," Casey replied.

"I've got eyes on them," Bane added.

The freelance spy swayed her hips as she walked. Just enough to draw that extra bit of attention her bikini's lack of fabric might have missed. And she had drawn Adams's attention, alright - the man was smiling at her as she drew closer. Text-book contact-making. Almost a little too obvious.

Or not. Bones walked past Adams without glancing at him. "No contact," Bane reported, unnecessarily - Sarah had seen that herself.

"Perhaps they don't want to be too obvious," Chuck speculated as Bones took a free deck chair on the other side of the pool.

Sarah wasn't certain if she agreed. Playing hard to get might draw a bit more attention to the scene than some casual flirting. And the way Bones was dressed - and the way she put on sunscreen - she wouldn't exactly fit the role anyway.

"Aphrodesia won't like that," Chuck commented.

"Hm?"

"Bones is sitting close to Ralph."

Indeed. A little too close - she had picked the free chair which was closest to the Browns, actually. "Right." Had Bones missed that Ralph was with his wife here? A former CIA-spy should have noticed that the chair on the other side of Ralph was almost touching his, and that there was a towel on it with the logo of a cosmetics brand. Ralph, though, hadn't missed her - he was sneaking glances, Sarah noted. And he looked nervous.

"Uh. Here she comes."

And indeed, Aphrodesia was leaving the pool. Not as slowly as she had entered it - and she headed straight to Ralph.

"Do you think she noticed that he was eyeing Bones?" Chuck asked.

"I don't think she cares whether or not he did," Sarah replied. Aphrodesia struck her as the kind of woman who'd assume any attractive woman not in a relationship - or even those who were - was a rival.

And yes, Mrs Brown immediately took steps to monopolise Ralph's attention, asking him to put sunscreen on her before she had finished towelling off. Probably asking all sorts of questions, too, to keep him busy.

The woman was really rather insecure. On the other hand, seeing as how Bones was watching the display, perhaps she had cause to be wary. Sarah narrowed her eyes. Flirting with a married man was a little much as far as a smokescreen went. If a jealous wife made a scene, then that would draw a lot of attention. And if things escalated…

And Ralph looked very nervous. Guilty, too. Too guilty for merely sneaking glances at an attractive woman at a pool. Oh.

"Bones isn't here for Adams," Sarah said. "She's here for Ralph."

"She's here for Ralph? That's a problem!" Chuck said.

"I don't see the problem," Casey replied over the radio. "Bones'll keep the Browns from interfering with our mission."

"Yes, Bane agreed."

"Guys… you don't know Aphrodesia. She'll try to use us to help keep Ralph from straying." Chuck knew how Cordettes thought. And unlike Cordelia, Aphrodesia didn't seem to have changed at all since high school.

As if she had heard him, Aphrodesia stood, pointing at them, and tugging on Ralph's arm.

"He's right," Sarah agreed as the other woman all but dragged her husband with her.

"Get rid of them," Casey snapped. "We here to find Adams contact, not to do couple's therapy."

That was easier said than done, of course. Chuck knew that. Aphrodesia wasn't Cordelia, not even close, but she had the same attitude and wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. Well, unless you hit her over the head with it, perhaps literally, but that would make a scene and draw attention. From Adams as well.

"Chuck! Sarah! How do you like it here?" Aphrodesia asked, a little too loudly, and sat down on the chair next to Chuck's, pulling Ralph with her.

"It's very nice," Chuck replied. "Well worth the price. Better than the resort in the Caribbean that we visited over the holidays."

"Oh?" The woman perked up.

"Yes. Great beaches, but the staff was a little underwhelming, and the town was a tourist trap," Sarah said.

"Ah, that's the Caribbean for you!" Aphrodesia launched into a rather prejudiced tale of her and Ralph's own vacation in the Caribbean, a cruise, last year. Since she was more interested in dragging Ralph into the conversation as much as possible, Chuck used the opportunity to check on Bones and Adams. Adams was just ordering another drink - and staring down Bane's cleavage. Bones was… about to hit the pool. And keeping her attention on them. No, on Ralph.

Who, Chuck belatedly noticed, was looking nervously at her when Aphrodesia wasn't paying attention. Oh. Of course! It all made sense. He had to inform the others!

"I'm going to get a drink at the bar," he said, getting up. "Do you want anything?"

"Just a coke," Sarah told him. "Thank you."

"Mineral water," Aphrodesia said.

"Bloody Mary," Ralph ordered. And ignored his wife's glare. Definitely nervous.

As soon as Chuck was out of earshot, he whispered. "Guys! Bones and Ralph know each other! He's much too nervous in her presence."

"We figured that out already," Casey replied. "Probably had an affair and now comes the blackmail."

Oh. Chuck pressed his lips together. So much for his analysis. Of course, the veteran spies would've picked up on that already.

Sighing, he continued towards the bar - and almost collided with a man leaving it. "Sorry," he said quickly as he took a step back.

"No problem," the man replied, smiling at him.

And Chuck flashed. Corpses. Bodies. Murders. And drinks and food. And a name. Marcel Boucher.

"Are you alright?"

He blinked. "Oh, yes, sorry," Chuck managed to say. "I think I got a little too much sun." He forced himself to laugh as the other man turned away. Then he used the radio again. "Guys! The man I almost ran into? He's Marcel Boucher! A hitman specialising in poison!"

And he was headed towards Adams.

"Shit!" Casey cursed. "This isn't a drop, but a trap. They want to get rid of Adams. They must have found out that we fingered him. Stop Boucher and keep Adams alive!"

Damn. Boucher was already sitting down next to Adams. Next to the man's drink. And with Sarah stuck in Aphrodesia's claws, and Bane currently on the other side of the pool serving drinks to a group of tourists, that left Chuck to intervene.

He clenched his teeth and quickly ordered the drinks for Sarah and the others, keeping Boucher in sight. The man hadn't made his move yet. Probably waiting until Adams felt at ease. But all it took was one distraction, and Boucher could poison that drink.

Think, Chuck, think! How do you save Adams? Without breaking cover? Oh! His eyes widened as he had an idea and he turned back to the bartender. "And two pieces of that delicious cheesecake, please!"

A minute later - Chuck's neck almost felt strained from the constant glances over his shoulder - he was on the way back to Sarah ad the Browns, carrying a tray with the drinks and the cake. Now all he had to do was to make it look natural.

And he had to hurry - he saw Boucher's arm move when Adams was looking at Bones getting out of the pool as if she was in a steamy movie scene. The courier was reaching for his drink without looking. His poisoned drink.

Chuck stepped up his pace. Five yards. And Adams was about to drink. "Whoa!" Chuck yelled, launching himself forward in a stumbling run. "Watch out!"

Boucher pulled away in a smooth motion, rolling off the chair. Adams wasn't as quick and froze, drink in hand, a moment before Chuck's tray hit him in the chest, spilling drinks, soda and cake all over him.

Chuck fell to the ground. "Sorry! I'm so sorry!" He didn't have to fake his groan - he had hit the deck chair in a rather painful way.

But the poisoned drink had been spilt as well, and Adams was safe. Angry at Chuck, but unpoisoned. "Look at my shirt!" the man snapped.

"I'm so sorry! I will, of course, pay for the cleaning. Or a new shirt?" Chuck babbled.

"What? Forget it! I need to take a shower. And change!"

Chuck smiled as Adams turned away and walked towards the hotel.

Then he caught Boucher's glare. Uh oh.

"Now that brings back memories!" Brown exclaimed as Chuck took a dive. "Like in high school!"

Sarah made sure to 'accidentally' step on the woman's foot when she got up. "Chuck! Are you alright?" she exclaimed.

By the time she reached him, Adams was already walking away, presumably to his room. "Good work," she whispered as she made a show of inspecting Chuck.

"But I think Boucher grew suspicious," he replied. "He looked as if he wanted to kill me."

She nodded. They'd have to take out the assassin anyway, but this made it personal. "Limp a little," she told him. That would give them an excuse to leave the Browns. And they could follow Adams. Well, limp after him, but no plan was perfect.

They managed to keep the man under surveillance anyway, with the help of Casey, until he entered his room.

"Do you think that Bones was the distraction meant for Adams?" Chuck asked once they were in their room, pulling off his own stained shirt.

"I doubt it," Sarah replied after a moment. "She could have distracted him by responding to his advances or by flirting. If the poison had a delayed effect, she wouldn't have been a suspect even after his death."

"Ah." Chuck nodded. "That makes sense."

"We cannot dismiss the possibility entirely, though," she added.

"Oh." After a second, he went on: "So, what do we do now?"

Sarah smiled thinly. "We take out Boucher and capture Adams. With Fulcrum planning to kill him, he should prove cooperative." If the man believed them, of course. On the other hand, once he was in the CIA's custody, he would be a loose end, so cooperation was his best chance to survive anyway.

But they had to capture him, first. And deal with Boucher.

Which, as Sarah found out quickly, though not unexpectedly, wasn't easy. The assassin didn't actually drink or eat anything at the pool bar, so Bane couldn't use his own methods - although with non-lethal poison - against him. It had been a long shot anyway - Boucher might be able to detect even supposedly undetectable poisons, given his experience.

But the man was very cautious, almost paranoid. He was constantly looking around, even to the detriment of his cover, in Sarah's opinion. Did he suspect anything already? That would mean Chuck was in danger.

At least he was keeping his distance from Adams after the courier had returned to the pool. Though it meant they had to keep eyes on both now. Something the Browns weren't helping with at all.

"Did you apologise to your victim?"

"Of course I did," Chuck replied, sounding more than a little annoyed at the implied condescension,

"It was merely a small accident. No harm was done," Sarah cut in.

"Apart from your ankle," the woman replied.

"Oh, it's manageable. I just don't want it to get worse, you know?" Chuck patted his calf above the bandage they had wrapped around his ankle.

"And his supposed 'victim' wasn't hurt at all," Sarah pointed out.

"He certainly doesn't act like it," Ralph added, nodding towards the courier, who was nursing his next drink.

Adams did seem to be a little too fond of alcohol, Sarah noted. If it had started to affect his work, perhaps that was the reason Fulcrum wanted him dead. Or one of the reasons.

Boucher got up. Was he making another attempt? No. He didn't even go near the courier or the bar.

"I've got eyes on Boucher," Casey informed her a minute later through the bud in her ear. He had switched from Overwatch to the hotel - hey needed him here, with two targets now. "He's going to his room."

That left Adams, who didn't seem to plan to leave the pool area anytime soon. Probably related to Bane's continuing attempts to 'innocently' draw Ralph's attention.

Which left Sarah and Chuck stuck with the Browns.

She would almost prefer another assassination attempt.

"So... how do we capture Boucher and Adams?" Chuck asked as they got ready for dinner in their room. If he had to sit through another afternoon with Aphrodesia…

"We'll break into their rooms during the night," Casey said from where he was watching the feed from the security cameras covering the hallway to Adams and Boucher's rooms.

Chuck understood the necessity for the surveillance but he wished the man had a room of his own. Chuck had liked the privacy he and Sarah had enjoyed until now. Wait… "So, we capture both of them, right?"

"If possible," Casey said with a twisted grin.

"But the objective is to capture them, isn't it?" Chuck pointed out.

"That changed the moment you identified Boucher. He's an assassin for hire. He won't know anything about Fulcrum," Sarah, stepping out of the bathroom where she had changed, replied.

"He's an obstacle, nothing more," Casey added.

"Oh." An obstacle they'd be removing. Chuck swallowed. Boucher was a murderer. A poisoner. The Intersect data also told Chuck that the man had no qualms about collateral damage. But to murder him in cold blood...

"Getting cold feet?" Casey glared at him.

"What? Of course not!" Chuck protested. "I'm just thinking about how best to get to him."

"Don't waste your time. We've already plotted the hit," the NSA agent told him.

"You have?" When? And what was Chuck doing, then?

"Yes. You'll be the distraction for Adams," Casey said.

"We'll go to him to apologise once more," Sarah explained. "And then hit him with a sedative so we can 'help' him."

"Ah." That was… well, it wasn't murder. It was OK.

Chuck nodded. "I can do that."

"You better do, nerd." Casey just had to have the last word, didn't he?

"There are Ellie and Devon," Chuck whispered half an hour later. His sister and his future brother-in-law had just entered the restaurant. He checked his watch. "They must have been speeding, or L.A. traffic wasn't as bad as usual on a Friday afternoon," he added and noted with relief that they weren't seated even near the Browns or Adams.

"Boucher still hasn't left his room," Casey reported. "I don't like this."

"He must be preparing something, then," Chuck pointed out.

"Really? I had no idea."

Casey was good at conveying sarcasm in the most biting way, Chuck noted, not for the first time. He clenched his teeth, wishing he had a good comeback that wouldn't sound unprofessional.

He focused on the excellent meal, instead. He wasn't sure if it was worth the money, but his steak was perfectly done, and the side dishes were a marvel. Even better was that Aphrodesia wasn't constantly talking, not to him, at least - she was talking Ralph's ear off, as far as he could tell; Bones was sitting at the table next to the Browns, and Ralph looked ready to commit suicide to escape. It was amusing - as long as you weren't in the middle of it.

And now came dessert! Oh, the treats on the cart… He blinked. The waiter pushing the dessert cart looked a little like…

"Boucher," Sarah hissed. "He's slipped out and disguised himself as a waiter!"

And Ellie and Devon were waving the assassin over, diverting him from his path to Adams!

He had to do something. Anything. And right now! Something that didn't break his cover or ruined the mission. Something…

He spotted the couple two tables over, having crêpes flambées for dessert. Yes! "I'm doing a distraction," he whispered, getting up. "Be ready to take them out."

"What?" Sarah gasped. "Chuck!"

But he was already on the way, passing the next table. And faked a stumble to tackle the waiter setting the dessert on fire. "Sorry!" he yelled as the cognac bottle spilt on the white table covers of the next table, as planned.

A moment later, the table was ablaze, the people backing off, everyone was screaming.

Then the sprinklers were set off, and panic set in as everyone got wet and scared.

Perfect. Chuck rolled off the waiter and came up in a crouch, looking around. There! Boucher was one the ground, Casey acting as if he was helping the man. And Adams…

...was trying to flee but had found the exit blocked by everyone else trying to get out. Sarah was coming up behind the courier, too.

But the man turned and started to run towards the restaurant's terrace. Which would take him past Chuck.

Hidden behind the toppled table, Chuck pushed the dessert tray into the man's way, causing him to slip and fall. And before Adams managed to recover, Chuck's sleep hold had taken him out.

It was easy to hoist the 'poor fainted man' on his shoulder and carry him out of the restaurant.

Past the glaring, soaked and fuming - metaphorically, fortunately, not literally - Ellie.

Uh oh.