Chapter 29: The French Connection Part 1

California, Los Angeles, Downtown Los Angeles, February 3rd, 2008

"Dad!" Chuck exclaimed as he quickly took a step away from Sarah and checked himself for a wardrobe malfunction. Embarrassed by his parents while making out with his girlfriend… he hadn't minded missing out on that part of growing up. Not that he had many occasions to suffer that particular indignity, anyway. "What are you doing here? And how did you get inside?" He blinked. "Ignore the last question." It was obvious that his father had broken in.

Dad laughed. "Sorry, I didn't want to wait outside."

"That would have endangered our cover," Sarah said. She sounded very cool and collected for someone who had to hastily button up her blouse, in Chuck's opinion.

"That as well," Dad agreed. "Nice apartment. Your work?" He looked at Sarah.

"Thank you, yes," she told him.

Chuck wanted to point out that he had helped, but that would have made him sound like a whiner. "So, why did you come to visit us?" Dad better had a good reason for utterly ruining the mood.

"To discuss the mission, of course."

"Right. The mission." Of course. Chuck sat down on the couch. A moment later, Sarah joined him. "So?"

Dad laughed again. "I wanted to coordinate with you, now that you installed your surveillance."

Chuck didn't miss how Sarah frowned a little at hearing that. Probably angry at not having noticed Dad's surveillance.

"And I wanted to share my backdoor into Gonzàlez's systems," Dad went on.

And now it was Chuck's time to grow tense. He had tried for hours to hack that system!

"Don't feel bad. I've had more time to do it," Dad said as if he had read Chuck's mind. "And more experience as well."

"It's not that," Chuck lied. "But if we had known that, we wouldn't have wasted time trying to hack the system ourselves. Well, myself."

"But it was good training," Dad retorted. "You learned a lot, right?"

Chuck barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "Missions aren't the time to train," he replied, quoting Casey.

"Point taken," Dad said. "Although we'll have to schedule some training sessions, then. Once this is over."

And he could come in from the cold. Wait… "Training sessions?" Chuck asked.

"Hacking into different systems." Dad grinned. "It's fun, trust me."

Oh. Dad was a hacker. It wasn't just a job - he liked doing it. Probably did it for kicks, too. Chuck and Sarah really had more things in common when it came to their parents than Chuck had thought before. "Right," he managed to say without making his thoughts obvious. "So… the backdoor?"

"Here!" Dad handed him a memory stick.

"Is that safe?" Chuck eyed it.

"Yes, but it's good policy to check yourself, of course - no one's perfect."

Chuck hadn't minded missing out on such lectures, either, now that he thought about it.

Sarah came to his rescue. "Do you already have a plan for the mission?"

"It's still in the works," Chuck's father replied. "I've got the incriminating data ready to be planted in his system, and I've compromised his security. However, we still need to find a way past his bodyguards, and we need to be able to cover up his death."

Not death, murder. But Chuck nodded.

"His maid is a cartel assassin," Sarah said. "We can frame her."

"Oh. Like a crime of passion." Chuck nodded. "He accosted her, she shot him in response, but his bodyguards avenged him in a firefight that cost most of them their lives, too. One escaped and vanished."

"I think simply killing him and having her vanish would work," she replied. "The police might think she was paid by a rival to betray him."

"Simple and easy, yes," Dad agreed with her.

"What about the other bodyguards? What if we get into a firefight with them?" Chuck didn't want to be that guy, but they had ended up in shootouts a little too often on missions not to plan for them.

"Then we adapt the story to 'killed Gonzàlez and his bodyguards'," Sarah told him.

"That's almost my story," Chuck pointed out.

"Almost but not quite," Dad said. "Having her disappear will make it harder for the police to find out what really happened. And not everything lining up perfectly will make it less suspicious, too."

"Yes." Sarah nodded at Chuck's father. "A mystery motive and a missing murderer looks more convincing than a staged crime scene - spies don't trust things that look too neat."

And they had to convince the CIA, after all. Not just the police.

Sarah was having second thoughts about the whole mission. For very selfish but still valid reasons.

"And that's the backdoor? Wow. I thought they patched that exploit," Chuck gushed in a tone usually reserved for her as he stared at the computer screen.

"They did. But I hacked the internet provider and intercepted the download for Gonzàlez's computers," Orion explained.

"You did? Is that even possible? It shouldn't… Wait, Dad! You didn't hack it - you used a hardware trick, didn't you?"

"Guilty as charged," Orion admitted, chuckling. "Well-spotted. I installed a router through which I could manipulate the data packets sent to Gonzàlez."

"Dad! Stop with the tests! We're not at school, we're on a mission!" Chuck protested.

"Sorry, old habits die hard." The older man chuckled. "Besides, it's not as if we're actually doing anything dangerous right now."

"It's the principle of the thing!" Chuck retorted.

And, Sarah thought, we should have been in bed now, not learning hacking exploits. Or, in her case, watching the lesson.

She suppressed a sigh and smiled at both Bartowskis. "So, do you want a soda or coffee?"

"Coffee, please, my dear," Orion replied.

"Uh…" Chuck looked torn. "It's getting a little late. If we drink too much caffeine..."

"Tomorrow's Sunday," Orion told him.

"And it's Superbowl Day, Dad," Chuck countered.

"Are you interested in the game?" Orion asked.

"Well, not really, but wouldn't Gonzàlez make an event out of it?" Chuck shrugged. "We might snag an invitation if he's feeling good neighbourly."

"That's an excellent idea," Sarah cut in before Orion could say anything. "I think we can set up an 'accidental meeting' with him - or with a guest of him - and get invited to his Superbowl Party."

"Let me check if he's hosting one," Orion said. He moved towards the keyboard, Chuck giving way, and started typing. Sarah didn't manage to follow all that he did - she'd have to ask Chuck for details, later - but soon bank data appeared on the screen. Payments. "Ah… ordered catering for a dozen people for tomorrow. And he recently bought a new flatscreen TV." He looked at Chuck. "I think it's safe to say that he's hosting a party, but I'll check his mail as well."

Which, Sarah knew, he probably could have done first. But that might not have looked as impressive as hacking bank data. "Good. But I think we should go to bed now - so we won't imitate Chuck's co-workers tomorrow." The Buy More staff was probably still celebrating their victory. She hoped that that included Bane, so the woman would be busy recovering tomorrow.

"Right." Orion nodded. "And I guess you also want to pick up where you left when you entered," he added with a smile.

Chuck blushed in response, which looked cute. Sarah narrowed her eyes at Orion anyway, though - she hadn't appreciated his interruption.

He laughed again. "I'm sorry again," he said, not sounding sorry at all. "I'll contact you tomorrow - at a reasonable time."

Chuck smiled as Dad left their apartment. That had been a very nice, well, he couldn't call it evening - it had been past midnight already when they had arrived. But it had been a nice visit. Even the testing by Dad, while annoying, hadn't been really annoying. "I missed out on this, you know?" he said.

"Hm?" Sarah looked at him.

"Dad being Dad," Chuck said.

"Ah." She nodded. Of course, she would understand - she had lost her father to prison when she was in high school, after all. "However, I think he made us feel like teenagers sneaking out long enough," she went on.

Ah. He couldn't help grinning in a stupid way. "Yes. I didn't miss that, by the way. Not that there were many occasions for it to happen in Sunnydale."

"I can imagine."

"Not because of the demons and the Hellmouth there. Just the usual high school hierarchy stuff," he went on.

"Chuck, I've been in high school myself. And I've met Harmony and Aphrodesia."

"Oh, yes, sorry, I…" And he had met Sarah's old high school nemesis, which he had forgotten. Perhaps he wasn't as over his time in Sunnydale as he had thought. Or talking to Dad had made him feel nostalgia.

She walked up to him, smiling. "It's OK, Chuck. It's normal that you react like that to having your Dad back."

"It is? I mean, yes, it is." He forced himself to laugh as she began to steer him towards the bedroom.

At least Sarah wasn't mad at him or Dad for interrupting their night, so to speak.

The next morning, they got up a little later than planned. Not too late, though - it was still morning, not noon. Or afternoon. An important distinction, in Chuck's opinion. Well, it had been back when he'd been a teenager and arguing with Ellie. Or after he had been expelled from Stanford… Gosh, he was feeling nostalgic today, and not in a good way, was he? He chuckled as he finished shaving.

He smelled fresh coffee when he stepped out of the bedroom. And toast. "Mh…" He was about to comment that he could get used to this when he noticed that she was watching the camera feeds on the laptop. Oh. "Anything of note?" he asked, as nonchalantly as he could as he took a seat and poured himself a cup of coffee.

"No one left or entered the apartment so far," she replied without taking her eyes off the screen. Her cup was empty already, he also noticed. Had he taken so long in the bathroom?

"So that means they'll go out later?" He took a sip from his cup and sighed. Perfectly brewed.

"Or their guests arrive," she said. "Your father sent a list and is tracking their cars. We can meet them in the garage when we fetch some groceries you left in the car yesterday."

He swallowed most of his toast. "Me?" After swallowing the rest of it, he added: "Does that fit our cover?"

"Yes," she told him with a grin. "A little slip like that makes us appear more harmless. Less likely to notice anything odd."

"And more likely to be invited to his party. If he actually does it," he added, frowning. "We're not exactly business partners."

"The people on the guestlist your father compiled aren't drug smugglers or cartel members, either," she pointed out. "They're well-off people, but not independently wealthy. Probably business contacts of his - on the legitimate side of his business."

"Ah." Dad had been busy. Chuck hoped he hadn't overdone it - he wasn't getting any younger, and burning the midnight oil got harder as you got older. Chuck knew that very well. "So, did you pick a target?"

"Jack Chavez," she said. "Investment banker."

"Ah." Chuck took another sip from his coffee. "And you think he'll ask Gonzàlez to invite us?"

"His type is always trying to make more contacts. If not as potential clients, then as potential sources of information - or jobs," Sarah explained.

Chuck pulled up the file that Dad had sent on his phone, then nodded. "And he likes women," he commented. Lots of beautiful women, according to the pictures.

"That weakness is also a consideration," she admitted. "

"Ah." Chuck grabbed another toast to buy himself some time. That meant Sarah would dress sexy. Well, sexier than usual - she was always sexy. And everyone would be leering at her. Well, at least this Chavez, but Gonzàlez as well - Chuck had read the mark's files, after all. And he wasn't entirely certain what to feel about that.

He wasn't an immature teenager any more who wanted to show off his girlfriend as if she were a trophy. He hadn't ever been one of those, of course; that had been mostly a 'jock thing' at Sunnydale High. But he also didn't want to be the sort of insecure, jealous man who couldn't stand it when his girlfriend attracted attention. Or showed off. He was better than that. Or he should be. "So…" he said, "do you think Chavez or Gonzàlez will, uh, make a move?"

"I don't think so," she told him. "Both have mistresses, and neither would want to risk a scene with a new acquaintance at a party."

"Ah." Chuck felt relieved. It might be unprofessional for a spy in training, but the thought of Sarah sleeping with Chavez or Gonzàlez…

"It's not a honeypot mission," she told him. Of course she would have read him like a book!

He looked up and saw her knowing smile. "Ah." He shrugged. This wasn't the time to discuss his feelings about that. "So, all we have to do now is waiting until the guests arrive?"

"Yes."

A few hours later, the first guests began to arrive. Apparently, Gonzàlez and his guests liked to start their Superbowl party early. Chavez wasn't among them, though.

"Do you think Chavez wants to be fashionably late?" Chuck asked as he kept an eye on the laptop screen. Perhaps he should use the TV screen for this - it would make it easier to cover more feeds.

"No. I think he doesn't want to appear too eager, but not too arrogant, either," Sarah replied. She was looking good, in Chuck's opinion. Well, she always looked good whatever she wore, but he liked her current clothes. Capris and a matching top. Casually sexy, but in a girl next door way. And she could act the part as well.

Now they only needed… "Speak of the devil," he said as an alert appeared on the screen. "Chavez's mobile phone is moving. He should be here in ten minutes."

Showtime.

They waited five more minutes, which Sara spent waking up Casey, who was sleeping in the bedroom, and filling him in. Chuck spent the time mostly worrying about the timing. Los Angeles traffic was hard to predict at times, even on a Sunday. Especially on a Superbowl Sunday. Chavez might be speeding. What if they were too late and missed running into him? What if he was late and they had to spend suspiciously long in the garage, alerting Gonzàlez? What if Chavez was late and ignored them?

Despite his thoughts, Chuck kept up a confident front. Fidgeting and worrying would've been unprofessional for a spy.

"Relax, Chuck. It's a Superbowl day, and we're just preparing for the event in our new apartment."

And he had to work on his poker face. He still smiled at Sarah. "Sure thing. We got this. Easy-peasy."

She snorted at that, and then they were in the hallway, on the way to the lift, and she was frowning at him. "Really… how could you forget the groceries?"

"You didn't notice it, either," he shot back.

"I carried the perishables," she said as they reached the lift.

"So, no harm done! Chips aren't ruined if they spend a night in the garage."

"And what if you had forgotten a bucket of ice cream?"

"Well… then we'd be out some ice cream. We're not talking hypotheticals, though." It was almost like practising for a real disagreement, only Sarah wouldn't be as illogical when she wasn't playing a role.

They stopped bickering when they reached the garage - no one would want to invite a couple having trouble to a party. That tended to ruin the mood.

And right on schedule, when they reached their car, a Corvette entered the garage and headed for the part reserved for guests.

"See?" Sarah asked with a smile as they lifted two bags filled with snacks and other unhealthy food out of the trunk. "Perfect timing."

"Luck," he managed to mutter before they turned away to walk back to the lift - and to meet Chavez.

The man was in the company of his current girlfriend - Bonnie Cale, according to the file Dad had sent. That didn't stop him from checking out Sarah, though, Chuck noted. And the man didn't start with her face.

"Hello!" Sarah greeted him as their paths converged at the lift. "We just moved in. I'm Sarah."

"And I'm Charles. Charles Black," Chuck added.

"Jack Chavez. This is Bonnie."

"Hi!"

"We're just visiting." Chavez went on, then peered at the bags they were carrying. "Superbowl Party?"

"Party of two," Sarah said as the lift arrived. "We just moved to Los Angeles and don't know many people yet."

"Oh?"

"Charles bought our usual amount of snacks out of habit. And then forgot the bags in the car yesterday," Sarah explained.

Cale giggled at that, which made it easy for Chuck to stay in his role and roll his eyes before looking at Chavez. "And she won't let me forget it."

"Aw!" Sarah reached over and hugged him. "I'm just teasing." Everyone laughed at that. "He's too serious, comes from working with computers instead of people," she added.

"Investment banking," he corrected her for Chavez' benefit.

"Oh? I'm working in the same field. Which firm?"

"Stanford Investments," Chuck told him, giving the name of their cover. "It's small, but growing."

"Ah." Chavez's smile didn't waver, but he sounded a little more condescending.

Until Chuck added: "I'm their newest partner." He could see how he went from 'guy on the street' to 'potentially useful contact' in the man's eyes.

"That's our floor," Sarah said. "Have a nice party!"

"Thank you!" Chavez replied.

Half a minute later, they were back in their apartment. "Do you think we got it?" Chuck wasn't sure. Everything had gone according to the script, but…

"We'll know in a bit," Sarah replied. "He'll have to talk to Gonzaléz first."

Great. More waiting and worrying.

"If it doesn't work, it's no catastrophe. We'll find another way to scout out the apartment. Or we go in without. It's not ideal," she admitted, "but we've done such missions before. And we know the layout from the floorplans."

"Don't sweat it, Bartowski," Casey said. "The scumbag will bite. If not today, then later. I know his type." Chuck blinked. Casey was… supportive? "So, calm the hell down and play your role before you wreck the mission."

Ah, there was the gruff, abrasive spy they all knew. Chuck grinned, which made the NSA agent narrow his eyes at him. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing! Nothing!" Chuck quickly replied.

He was feeling better, though.

Until, a few minutes later, Casey reported that Chavez was headed towards their apartment.

"An invitation? By our neighbour, Mr Gonzàlez? Oh, of course, we'll accept!"

"Of course," Chuck echoed Sarah with, or so he hoped, sufficient enthusiasm without sounding forced. "Thank you, Mr Chavez."

"Call me Jack," Chavez told them with a - in Chuck's opinion - far too oily smile.

"We'll be there in twenty minutes - we need to dress up a little," Sarah told him. "We want to make a good first impression."

"Well, you certainly impressed me," Jack replied.

Chuck was sure the man didn't mean him.

"Thank you!" Sarah, of course, played her role perfectly. She didn't even lose her smile after Chavez had left.

Fifteen minutes later - they had been ready after ten, even with the various concealed weapons that they had to, well, conceal, but that would have looked suspicious - they were ringing Gonzàlez's doorbell. They had dressed up, of course - a young couple trying to make a good impression would do so. Chuck was wearing his best 'casual suit', which was his best business outfit, but without a tie, and Sarah was wearing a black cocktail dress - though one not quite as short as she'd wear for other missions.

Lopez opened the door with a polite smile. "Ah, Mr and Mrs Black. Please come in - Mr Gonzàlez is in the living room."

"Thank you, Ms Gomez," Chuck replied. He was sure that she was welcoming them, instead of Gonzàlez himself, so she could check them out first. Of course, they weren't carrying obvious weapons, nor anything that would be detected by a metal scan, so unless Lopez wanted to drop the act and pat them down, it wouldn't help her. Though the assassin would likely be ready to kill them for the rest of the evening since she would be aware of this weakness.

The foyer wasn't as ostentatiously furnished as Chuck had expected, but that was a low bar to clear. It wasn't very stylish, though, but there was a certain 'lived in' feeling. It might even feel like a home if there wasn't a killer maid following them.

The living room, though, made up for that - Gonzàlez obviously valued his home entertainment. The latest flatscreen on the market dominated one side of the room, and the sound system was even more expensive - all high-end components. Heck, the sound system was probably more expensive than the Buy More's entire stock of speakers and sub movers.

"Ah, the Blacks!" Gonzàlez, flanked by Chavez, greeted them with open arms. Literally. "My new neighbours! Welcome to my home! I'm Marco!"

"I'm Charles," Chuck replied. "This is my wife, Sarah." If Chuck hadn't read Dad's file on the man, he would have been quite taken with the man's apparent friendliness.

"Hi!" Sarah said with a wide smile.

"And these are my best friends!" Gonzàlez gestured towards the other guests in the room. "You already know Jack and Bonnie. This is my dear friend Julio with his wife Marissa, that's Esteban with Lily, Karl and Jeanne, and the single man plundering my bar there is Kurt." Apparently, his mistress wasn't attending the party - still in Europe, then, shopping.

Everyone exchanged greetings, and Chuck struggled to keep up appearances - he was flashing on everyone.

Julio Flores Garcia. Suspected arms smuggler for the Sendero Luminoso in the 80s, before he went freelance and supplied various cartels. Esteban Sanchez. Drug runner, graduated to drug making. Karl Frankhauser. German banker, fired after a money-laundering affair that didn't result in a conviction thanks to a good lawyer. And Kurt Besson, former member of the French Foreign Legion. And Jeanne Dubois, currently for the Direction Générale de la Sécurité Extérieure - the French intelligence service.

So much for Dad's claim that the guests weren't criminals.

"Kurt's the bodyguard," Chuck whispered to Sarah as they followed Gonzàlez towards the buffet. "And the others are all criminals - well, but for the wives and girlfriends. And Jeanne's a DGSE."

She didn't show a reaction on her face, but he felt her grow tense. This might not be as easy as they had thought if the French were involved. At least they had Casey as backup, but if things went wrong, the NSA agent would take a few minutes to reach them.

Chuck kept smiling and hoped no one noticed how tense he was. Or that, should anyone notice, they attributed it to meeting new people with obvious money.

But if they didn't… then things would get sticky, as the British would say. Chuck took a deep breath as he grabbed some snacks from the buffet and prepared for the worst.

"Nooo!"

"You thought this would work?"

"Hah! I knew it!"

"Don't! Don't! Please don't!"

"He did!"

Another play foiled. Well, that was football for you. Chuck did his best, but he had no horse in this game, or something like it, and it was a little hard to get worked up as much as the other guests about it.

For a party attended by spies and career criminals, Gonzàlez's Superbowl party was remarkably normal. People ribbed each other in response to some particularly bad or good plays, without their host throwing around his weight as the drug cartel boss too much. It would even be boring if not for the fact that they weren't here to watch football, but to scout out the place and prepare for a mission but Lopez wasn't leaving them out of her sight. Playing the attentive maid always ready to help was a great cover for a bodyguard always ready to murder you, Chuck had found out.

Of course, part of the scouting Gonzàlez had done for them with a quick tour of the apartment, which was more of a penthouse - it was about three to four times the size of the Blacks' apartment. But, annoyingly, the criminal had skipped his bedroom as well as Lopez's and Besson's rooms. Unlike the apartment's bathrooms, which they had pretty much covered already, it would be hard to find an excuse to enter any of those rooms, at least Chuck couldn't think of one. Even if seducing any of the three was on the table - and it wasn't! - he doubted that it would work. Lopez wouldn't be seduced, and wouldn't be fooled, in his opinion.

Yet odds were that they'd enter the apartment at a time when everyone was in bed, which meant having accurate intel about the bedrooms was crucial. And that, in turn, meant that they would have to sneak into the rooms without being noticed. Difficult, but not impossible.

Dangerous, though. Between Lopez and Besson, Chuck and Sarah were always under observation. Perhaps Chuck could fake getting a call, leave the living room to take it and then get distracted and enter the wrong room? Would either of the two guards fall for it? And if they didn't, what would they do? Throw him out? Or prepare a trap for later? Or shoot them out of hand? Cover it up with an accident?

And what was Dubois doing? Was this a long-term undercover mission, or something that would affect their own mission? Was Gonzàlez her target or Fankhauser?

If they had a distraction… Oh! Gonzàlez had gone all out on electronics. And Dad had completely hacked the man's system. That might work.

But he had to be sneaky. For what he was to do, they might kill him if they suspected him, even if they didn't think he was a spy.

Chuck leaned back on the very comfortable leather armchair - or mini-couch, depending on one's view; it was large enough for two people if they weren't built like linebackers and didn't mind touching each other. Which Chuck and Sarah didn't. He stretched, then let his arm slide down Sarah's back. Just an innocent, or not so innocent gesture of affection.

Until he, his arm still hidden from view by Sarah's body, pulled out his phone. Sarah stiffened, but that only added to the deception - they might think he had copped a feel. Chuck leaned over and whispered: "Starting a distraction" into her ear. At the same time, he glanced down her back, on the screen of his phone, and started using Dad's backdoor.

With a laptop and a decent keyboard, he would have finished within a minute. With a phone, and his awkward position, it took over two minutes hanging over Sarah. Not too suspicious for a young couple, or so he hoped.

And done. "Two minutes," he whispered into Sarah's ear, then pulled away.

She glanced at him as if she expected him to start a fire. He had dismissed that early on - the stove wasn't computer-controlled.

He gave her a reassuring smile, then focused on the TV screen again. And waited.

Exactly two minutes later, the game suddenly was replaced, in mid-play, even, by a music video featuring two German singers. With the volume turned up to eleven.

"An der Nordseeküste!"

"Am plattdeutschen Strand!"

"Sind die Fischeeeee im Wasser!"

"Und selten an Land!"

Chuck winced. Perhaps he should have started a fire instead.

Sarah quickly clapped her hands over her ears as the two German singers blasted everyone with some incomprehensible song and jumped up. Gonzàlez was cursing and pushing every button on his remote, but the TV screen didn't change. And everyone was trying to get out of the living room before their ears started bleeding.

"An der Nordseeküste!"

"Am plattdeutschen Strand!"

"Sind die Fischeeeee im Wasser!"

"Und selten an Land!"

It was a good thing Casey wasn't present. He would probably kill Chuck for this.

But then she was in the hallway, and with everyone running around, it was easy to push open the door to Gonzàlez's bedroom and use the camera hidden in her bracer to take pictures before she left, 'looking for the door'.

"Nach Flut kommt die Ebbe!"

"Nach Ebbe die Flut!"

Chuck had stumbled into Bessons's room, with his phone out. That left Lopez's room to her.

"Die Deiche!"

"Sie halten mal schlecht und mal gut!"

Sarah tried to open Lopez's door, but it was locked. Damn. Still, two out of three wasn't bad.

"Die Dänen!"

"Sie wandern am Strand hin und her!"

"Von Grönland nach Flan…"

Then the song was finally cut off, and everyone took a deep breath.

"What happened?"

"Did you sit on the remote?"

"What was that?"

"I didn't even know we had that channel."

"Forget about it, get the game back up!"

"But check the sound first; my ears are still bleeding."

"What?"

Come to think of, Sarah's ears were also hurting. Chuck really had to work on his improvised distractions.

"It must have been the fault of the cable company," Chavez said. "I can't find anything wrong with the system here."

Chuck doubted that, as Casey would put it, the man could find his own butt with a map and a compass, and he was sure that Chavez had no idea about computers other than where to order the latest most expensive model every year. Still, he nodded in apparent agreement - Charles Black wasn't an IT specialist, after all.

"They'll get a complaint, I'll assure you. I'm not paying for premium service to suffer such an…" Gonzàlez trailed off, huffing.

"...an assault on our years and taste?" Chuck offered before he could help himself.

The drug lord blinked at him as if noticing him for the first time, then broke out in a wide smile. "Exactly, Charles!" Then the man clapped Chuck on the back. "But enough of that! Let's enjoy the game!"

Chuck agreed, rubbing his shoulder surreptitiously, and retook his seat with the others. As did Sarah. A few minutes later, she leaned in and whispered into his ear: "Lopez's room was locked."

Chuck nodded and smiled as if he had just heard something naughty. Locking her own room? That sounded paranoid to him. Unless you were inside and really couldn't afford to be disturbed.

But what could they do now? The bad guys might've accepted a mistake on the part of their cable provider - such things happened, as anyone working at Nerd Herd would be able to testify - but another such event wouldn't have the same effect, and might make them suspect something else. At least Lopez and Besson might. And Dubois remained a wild card.

What did the French spy know? If she had been investigating Gonzàlez for some time, she might be able to unravel their planned frame job. That would be bad for Chuck's dad. It would be bad for everyone else involved as well, of course.

So, another channel switching was out. But Chuck couldn't think of another distraction. None that wouldn't do more harm than good by attracting attention to himself or the apartment.

By the time the game finished, he still hadn't found a solution, or a way into the locked room. And, a quick check concealed as a public display of affection revealed, neither had Sarah.

Back in their temporary apartment, things weren't looking any better. "You got lucky," Casey commented after Sarah had finished telling him what they had done. "If they were any better at computers, they would have noticed your hack." He took a bite out of a big sandwich.

"They would have to be better than Dad to notice what I've done," Chuck protested. "And if they were, he wouldn't have been able to hack their systems." He didn't like to rely on Dad like this, but it was a fact that his father was the better hacker. Chuck still had a lot to learn.

Casey scoffed. "Let's hope they weren't just fooling you and are now checking their systems."

Chuck pressed his lips together and swallowed his reply - he didn't want to sound like a kid boasting about his dad.

"Their reactions looked genuine to me," Sarah said.

"Apart from Dubois," Casey retorted. "She's a threat."

"A potential threat," Sarah corrected him."

"Uh…" Chuck knew what Casey meant. But they wouldn't kill a nominal ally - sort of; the French and the US were both NATO members, weren't they? - just to be on the safe side, would they? Stupid question; Casey totally would. But Sarah wouldn't, and Dad wouldn't allow this, either. Chuck hoped so, at least.

"Relax. We're not eliminating her before we know her mission, and who else is involved," Casey said.

That didn't make Chuck relax at all. And not just because he didn't know how they'd do it. "Can we do that without tipping our hand?" Dad wouldn't have backdoors into the DGSE's computers, would he?

Casey grumbled something and glared at him, so the answer was probably 'No'.

"So... what do we do?"

The answer was, Chuck found out quickly, 'analyse the pictures we took and prepare the mission'.

"Alright. So we got the route planned out," Casey said, half an hour later, as he tapped the floorplans on the kitchen table.

"We still don't know what Lopez has in her room," Chuck pointed out.

"Unless she's hiding a tank in there, we can deal with it," the NSA Agent replied.

Chuck was wondering what the point of sneaking into their rooms had been, then. He didn't wonder that out loud, though.

"If all goes according to plan, she won't even notice our presence until it's too late," Sarah said.

"Unless she's in his bedroom, screwing him," Casey said with a sneer. "Men like Gonzàlez always have a woman around to show how macho they are, and he didn't have one today."

That was a good, if crudely put, point. "He could be having an affair with Besson," Chuck replied.

"I doubt that he'd invite Fankhauser over," Casey retorted. "If he were that stupid, he'd have been killed by a jealous husband long ago. I know his kind of people."

Probably a little too well, Chuck thought. "So… now we wait for more information about Dubois?"

"Yes," Sarah said. "We'll get you more files to analyse."

To see if he'd flash, in other words. Chuck nodded. At least he was better at that than Dad. Even without the Intersect kicking in.

California, Los Angeles, Downtown Los Angeles, February 4th, 2008

Dubois must have been very active, a real go-getter, if the CIA had this much intel on her past missions, Chuck thought as he started going through the files he had on his private laptop courtesy of Sarah and Dad. On the other hand, how good could she be as a spy if so much about her work was known?

Apparently, quite good, he thought with a wince after he had read the first file in the queue. He would have thought taking out a rebel leader by herself inside the man's compound and escaping from the middle of a jungle would have been a suicide mission, but Dubois apparently had pulled it off with flying colours.

He took a sip from his coffee - the new apartment also had a better coffee maker than they had at home, another item for the list - and opened the next file. It covered the assassination of a businessman financing terrorists. In the man's private island.

There seemed to be a theme here...

After the fourth file, Chuck was sure of it. "She's an assassin. Four missions so far, four assassinations."

She nodded, but said: "Check all of them, though."

"Of course." He still hadn't flashed, after all.

But as soon as he opened the next file, he did.