Comes the morning and
The headlights fade away
Hundred thousand changes
Everything's the same
I've been waiting long for
One of us to say
Save the darkness
Let it never fade away
In the living daylights.
"The Living Daylights"
A-ha
October 1, 2021
Burbank, California
Corrine sat on the sofa in Chuck and Sarah's house, her arm wrapped tightly around Stephen's shoulders. He was stiff, perturbed, resisting the comfort being offered by the older woman. Corrine saw the sheen of unshed tears on his ocean blue eyes, the valiant effort of a child to stay composed so much more evident to an experienced adult. He had tried to grab his handheld video game controller, but she told him to wait. Perhaps he needed a distraction, something in which to lose himself, but she wanted to talk to him first–something she knew he most certainly did not want to do.
Both of his sisters, chatty little things as they were, sat on the floor with the two new visitors Cole Barker had delivered to their home. Sarah had explained earlier who they were–Hannah Robert's children, the woman Cole had been protecting in a CIA safe house in L.A., in the same danger as Chuck and Sarah, though all the exact details about Hannah weren't exactly spelled out to her. The story they had been given was part lie, part truth. An old friend of Chuck and Sarah, in town for business. Hannah's story to her children remained intact. Named Pierre and Cozette, Cole had told her. Pierre was obviously the more gregarious of the two, constantly engaging the younger twins in dialogue. Corrine could hear most of it was commiserating about being a twin–the differences between being identical and fraternal. The girl, Cozette, smiled along, but could not stop her gaze from drifting over to Stephen, a crease of concern on her porcelaine forehead.
Between bouts of trying to coax Stephen to talk had been deep concern over what the reason that had sent his mother running from her own house, almost disregarding her son's abject terror and discomfort. Had Sarah even noticed how traumatized she had left him? She hadn't even looked back when she had run out the door with Cole. Some, if not all, of Stephen's malaise was because of that disregard, she believed. Corrine herself wasn't the best mother in the world, by far, and she'd noticed. But no matter what, she was still a spy. Something was very, very wrong.
"I'm sure whatever it is, Stephen, your Mum had a very good reason. She didn't mean to upset you the way she did," Corrine assured him.
He turned and looked up at her, his eyes narrowed to thin slits. "You…you don't…" He started, then swallowed hard. When he spoke again, his tone was different. "You don't know why she left, and you're worried, worse than what you're telling me."
How odd, she thought suddenly. He had started to sound extremely confident, making an angry proclamation. But he'd stopped himself, and continued, sounding more unsure. Almost as if he didn't want her to question his angry confidence. He's nine, she had to tell herself. He may have been an Intersect, but he was still a child. Why was he all of sudden so bloody unnerving?
"The name you asked your Mum about. Who is she?" Corrine asked, trying to sound nonchalant, knowing whatever else, that name had shaken Sarah down to her very core.
"That's what I asked my Mom," he said. "I couldn't listen to that news story without hearing her name. Like a whisper in the background. It was weird. I've never zapped like that before."
Corrine had scoured and memorized all the intel Beckman and Casey had provided her about the Hungarian, so integral to this current business with the Ultima Intersectio. Nowhere had that name appeared, related or adjacent. Nevertheless, Sarah absolutely knew the name.
"Want to play a game?" Corrine heard the young girl, Cozette, ask Stephen, as she approached him where he sat. Corrine knew the children were French, but the young girl spoke English with almost no accent whatsoever. Stephen looked up at her, dazed. "On your Switch," she offered, gesturing at the device that sat untouched on the coffee table. Cozette smiled softly. Corrine knew compassion when she saw it, so unexpected from a young child. She bumped into Stephen's shoulder, encouraging him to participate.
He rose, followed the girl to sit in front of the television. Once Corrine was alone, she tried again to call either Chuck or Sarah, hoping that whatever communication block had been in place had been removed.
October 1, 2021
Carmichael Industries, Los Angeles, California
"Initializing….now," Hannah told him, lifting her hands away from the keyboard, waiting for the mainframe to come back on line. Chuck looked anxiously between her screen and the computer in front of him, almost looking out of the corner of his eye, afraid to look head on at a potential disaster.
"The buffer appears undamaged. Memory processor tests ok, as well," he told her, nodding unconsciously, heartened that the worst case scenario–total system obliteration–had been averted. "How long were we out of commission?" he called to Morgan, who had stopped his pacing outside the office door.
"Three hours, 25 minutes," he told Chuck, glancing quickly at his watch as he did so. Chuck sighed heavily. It was a long time, but it would have taken him three times as long by himself. Hannah sure as hell knew what she was doing, he thought to himself. A stray thought popped in and out– She really took a job in the Nerd Herd? He shook it off as quickly as it had appeared. So did I.
"I couldn't have done this without your help, Hannah. Thank you," he said sincerely.
She smiled shyly. "How much longer until the encrypted line is up and functioning? You need to know why they shut you down. What did you miss?"
"Casey said they're running the test protocol right now. Fifteen minutes, tops, you should be good to go," Morgan informed them, listening to Hannah as she spoke. "You need to unlock the comms, Chuck. Total dark running is over nine hours combined, you know," Morgan added.
Chuck nodded rapidly, swallowing down the wave of panic that thought caused, knowing it was an old, irrational fear he still couldn't completely shake after all this time. He was in the process of accessing the communications protocols when he heard the commotion outside his office door.
XXX
Sarah had said almost nothing in the car on the way there, Cole noted. She had sat stiffly in his front seat, wringing her hands, twitching, unable to hold still, as if somehow by nervous energy alone she could make the car go faster, or shorten the distance between the two places. She knew Chuck was still running dark, the computer probably still shut down, but she had tried over ten times to call him, then Morgan and later Casey. Cole eventually had reached over, grabbing her hand to stop the frantic dialing. "They can't answer, Sarah," he told her firmly but gently.
"I know," she said softly, defeated. She was acknowledging her actions were futile, just panic manifesting itself in her actions. But she couldn't put the phone away, shifting it back and forth in her hands.
She had told him she couldn't tell him there in her house, in front of everyone. But being alone in the car with him had made her no less forthcoming. He didn't push, thinking perhaps she wouldn't tell anyone unless Chuck knew. That he needed to know first, for whatever reason. He respected that, even as he worried internally at her unfamiliar, desperate affect.
Finally, he screeched into the parking lot, pulling up to the office building door and letting Sarah out. He drove away to park, watching her run into the doors as he backed up his car.
She ran full speed, in her heels, realizing how long it had been since she'd had to do anything like this, back when she had been more in practice, more in shape, and younger. But she kept her balance, even though she felt her ankles ache and friction start to make the pads under her toes start to burn. Out of breath, she banged through the glass doors, screaming, "Chuck!" She didn't know where he was–in the IT closet, in his office, or in the secure conference room. She ran further, screaming his name again, turning the corner on the way to his office, when she crashed into him, feeling his hands grab her shoulders to steady her before she looked up to see him, his eyes wild and terrified as he regarded her state.
"What?" he gasped, pulling her out in front of him, holding her shoulders, feeling her tense muscles under his hands. "What?" he asked again, reaching instead for her face, his mouth dry, immediately horrified that something had happened to one of their children, while he had been out of communication.
She pushed him into his office, shutting the door behind her. "Stephen," she panted, trying to catch her breath but failing. She watched the color drain from his face, then forced herself to say more, explain better, knowing he was potentially misinterpreting. "He flashed…while he was watching the news with Corrine." She gulped down a sob, her eyes filled with tears, and she covered her mouth with her hand, feeling her lungs burn still as she struggled to breathe.
"What about? What happened, Sarah?" he asked her urgently, frustrated at the lack of information, his worry twisting his insides into knots.
"He asked me who Anna Szabo is," she said, slowing down her cadence, marveling in shock at how the name sounded out loud in her own voice, something she had never said out loud to him or anyone, ever. Moments afterward, she crazily thought perhaps there had been an earthquake, as she could have sworn the floor pitched and rolled beneath her feet, watching inexplicably and helplessly as Chuck flashed, his Intersect activating at the mention of the name.
He gasped, staggering backward slightly, shaking his head as the images cleared. "Oh my god," he muttered, suddenly breathless himself.
Her absolutely dumbfounded expression quickly devolved into panic. "Why is that in the Intersect?" she screamed, lunging towards him, grabbing fistfuls of the front of his shirt in desperation, pinching his chest hair in with the cloth, even as he held her by her wrists, more to steady her than to stop her. He met her wild-eyed frenzy with his own frantic terror.
He spoke, in a manner with which she had heard him speak a thousand times, muttering intelligence he had remembered after a flash. Only now, his voice shakily hitched, as he realized what the impact of the intelligence was before it was even spoken out loud. "Missing person, last seen August 2007 in Budapest, Hungary. Heir to currently disputed Reizner family fortune. Both parents deceased." He blinked away the dazed expression, as tears now sat on the lower rims of his eyelids. His voice was just a whisper, gentle but sad, as he trembled with dread. "That's Molly's real name, isn't it?"
October 1, 2021
Encino, Los Angeles, California
It wasn't that Vivian had never been with a man before. For god's sake, she was 36. But even at 36, she could count her lovers on one hand.
Lovers. What a stupid word, she thought. Nothing else she had ever done—had anything to do with love. She knew that, and was sure of that, only now. Now that she had been thoroughly and perfectly touched by someone she knew, without a doubt, completely and honestly loved her.
Falling into his bed with him had at first been just a reaction—a way to put out the fire that now raged inside of her. Only what had happened, how he made her feel, had done the opposite. Instead of smothering the flames, it had completely engulfed her—heart, body, soul.
She believed now she would have been able to tell Liam was lying to her after just one phony intimate moment, had she had anything to compare it to. Feeling the difference had brought tears to her eyes—tears she had had to explain to him. He'd only kissed them away, then continued to love her with his hands, mouth, and body. He asked a lot of questions, she had thought at first. Her serious accountant, intently focused on pleasing her, though at the same time palpably nervous with her.
Hers. He was hers, she thought with a rush of warmth.
He rolled over, sleepily nuzzling up to her neck, breathing in heavily. "Were you sleeping?" he asked quietly.
"I tried," she said with a smile. "All that exercise wore me out," she chuckled.
"Exercise? Is that all that was?" he teased, a breathless anxiety simmering under his tone.
"No, it was not," she told him, seriously, in the aura of his endearingly sweet nerves. She touched his face, marveling at the rough stubble on his cheeks. He was always so smooth, polished, and well dressed. "Can I tell you something?" she asked in a conspiratorial tone.
"Of course," he chuckled, leaning in close to her face, his gaze lifted up to her expectantly.
"That never happened to me before. You know, when I…" She blushed, unable to find the words to tell him.
He looked shocked at first, then pleasantly amused. "You did seem a little surprised."
She chuckled again, punching him amicably in the shoulder. "I'll have you know I was educated in the finest British boarding school that exists. I had top notch sexual education. I could quote to you every form of birth control available and how it works. Only, well, they were British. You're not supposed to like sex. It was like learning how to balance a ledger," she finished, realizing after she said it how ironic her words were.
He was laughing, a deep throaty sound, no trace of angst or trepidation left in him. She realized how enraptured she now was by that sound. "Forensic accounting isn't the only thing I haven't done in a while. Talking about rusty. Making everything balance," he added with a self-depreciating smirk.
"Is that accounting humor?" she shot back.
"I didn't know there was such a thing. We're usually a pretty boring bunch, all things considered," he quipped.
"You are most certainly not boring," she said seductively against his ear.
"I'm just glad I didn't break an arm. Or your arm. You've turned me into a bumbling teenager, you know that, right?" he admitted.
"Ye–yes, although, in fairness, I didn't really know it was me doing that, mind you," she said, her cheeks flushed.
She kissed him gently, turning to reach for her phone on his nightstand. She clicked it, then burst out laughing.
"What?" he asked.
"Look," she said, turning her phone to show him.
Carter saw the selfie of her father, giving a thumbs up sign. He waited expectantly for her explanation.
"He was wondering where I went after Chuck sent us home. I had to let him know where I was. He's so protective. I kind of forgot until I was living with him again. And he misses my Mum so he's overly focused on me," she told him.
"That's his reaction? To the fact that I'm defiling his daughter?" he coughed.
She scoffed. "He loves you, you know that," she said nonchalantly. She glanced at the accompanying text, reading it with a chuckle. "You're a 'delightful young man.'"
"He does?" he asked her, sober and serious as he looked at her. "Did you tell him I'm your boyfriend?"
She scoffed again. "I hate that word. I'm a grown woman, for god's sake. And don't say lover, I hate that too."
"Then what am I?" he asked, still so serious, his icy blue eyes piercing into her.
"You're mine," she said, touching his face. She saw the emotion in his eyes, so new, so unexpected. "Thank you for understanding. When I told you everything. I was worried, you know—"
"Worried about what? That your father used to run Volkoff Industries?" he asked.
"That we…were Volkoff Industries. That I was—"
He cut her off again. "It means everything that you told me. That you needed to tell me before things went any further. But it doesn't matter. Everyone has a past."
"Not like that," she insisted.
"Maybe not. But that wasn't you. Not really. Chuck and Sarah are your closest friends. That says everything I need to know about you now," he said softly.
She kissed him, hard, pulling him into her arms. He pulled back, holding her chin in his hand. "I love you," he told her. He sounded winded, like he couldn't catch his breath.
Her eyes flooded with tears, and she held him, her face against his chest. She thought of what Sarah had said to her. Sarah and Chuck knew that he loved her. Her father (and most likely her mother) knew that he loved her. And now thankfully at last, she did too.
He could have been upset, frightened that she was off put. But he knew, somehow just knew instinctively, why she was crying. "No one's ever told you that before?" he asked.
It took a long time for her to answer him. "Not someone who meant it. Not someone I loved in return."
October 1, 2021
Carmichael Industries, Los Angeles, California
Sarah sat in Chuck's desk chair, trembling visibly, the paper cup of water Cole had brought for her splashing haphazardly against the back of her hand. Chuck sat, perched on one leg, sitting on the edge of his desk as he addressed Cole, after telling him what had just occurred. As much of the story as he could possibly relay. Convincing Sarah to tell anyone else but him any of the information had been the most difficult. Chuck secretly thanked the fact that it was Cole running the whole operation–someone they had no qualms about trusting.
"Back up a minute, Chuck," Cole insisted, waving his hand to quiet the conversation. "What are you talking about? You flashed? Your son is the one with the Intersect, or am I wrong?"
"Stephen did flash," Sarah shot out, cutting into the conversation.
Chuck sighed, looking back at his wife. Then, his face set like stone, he turned back to Cole. "I know I can trust you. Beckman protected me, redacted all the documentation that showed Quinn never downloaded it. I did. There was no other way to unlock the mechanism for the bomb he set to kill Beckman."
"Holy hell," Cole muttered, rubbing a thick hand across his mouth, deep in thought.
"My family knows, and a very select few others. No one else," Chuck stressed.
Steadying his breathing, he spoke quickly to Chuck. "I know you are concerned for your son. But, Chuck, if the Sentries find out about you–"
"I'm not worried about me right now, ok?" he snapped. "What is the connection? What are we missing?" he asked. "This is now download number three for me. Was that name always there? Is it new? I have no way of knowing because I never heard her name spoken to me, ever," he stressed.
"What about Molly and my mother?" Sarah almost shouted to interrupt him.
"The NSA is protecting them, Sarah, the same as everyone else. I can coordinate with Casey, make sure they're aware of the potential increased risk," Cole explained logically.
"What if that's not enough?" she asked desperately, glancing at Chuck's worried face as he turned to meet her eyes.
"You said Ryker is dead, right?" Cole asked. "And the only other person who knew was Daniel Shaw?"
"I killed Ryker in my mother's house," Sarah growled. "Last we heard Shaw was in solitary confinement in a black site in Thailand. Although I don't know if Beckman would have updated us if he'd been moved."
Cole turned to Chuck. "But you and Casey subdued, what, three others, outside the house? What happened to them? Considering you kept the whereabouts of this girl outside the DNI's radar?"
"They were…uh…questioned extensively and it was determined that they were unaware of the entire story. They were paid in advance. Ryker planned to eliminate everyone involved once he obtained the information he was looking for. Officially, the DNI was unaware. But Beckman helped us out, offered us to be reinstated with the CIA at the same time," Chuck explained slowly.
Cole looked away, his brow furrowed in concentration. When he finally looked up, his eyes were wide and his face had paled. "Sarah, how did you get the baby out of Hungary?"
The paper cup of water tilted in her hand, splashing water onto the desktop at her palsied shaking. "I…went through some…illegal channels. She needed a passport. Even newborn babies need a passport. I needed all new documentation to protect my mother once she was in the states."
"Oh my god," Chuck muttered, sliding off the edge of the desk. "The passport info that they found on the courier. You said there was no date. I just assumed it was from 2009. It was from 2007, wasn't it? That's why it was only Sarah's info." Everyone stayed quiet as the words penetrated. Sarah was now ghostly white, visibly trembling even to Chuck who stood across the desk from her.
"Is that secure server online yet?" Cole asked Chuck quickly, stabbing into the silence with his sharp voice. He nodded once crisply. "Chuck, you need to check for information about the baby in that file. If that's there…"
"What does this have to do with the Sentries?" Sarah asked. "How did that information end up in the Intersect? How did a nine year old boy know it?" she nearly screeched.
"That's what we need to figure out," Cole said intently. "What you need to look for, Chuck." Sarah's uncharacteristic slip in composure was being ignored by Cole, in professional mode, which was a blessing in disguise.
Chuck was moving, not even waiting for Cole to finish talking. Sarah stood for him, steadied by his arm around her waist as she wobbled to her feet. "Are you ok?" he asked quietly. The grip around her was more than just cursory, meant as comfort and support, all he could offer in the distressed situation. She nodded, though it was obvious to Chuck and Cole she was still in a daze.
"I need Vivian back here, right now," Chuck called out the door, hoping Morgan could hear him. "And Carter too." The computer called to him, but he saw Morgan step in, grab onto Sarah and guide her out of the room. Chuck knew she just needed some time to gather herself. Strange thoughts, thinking how far away from their past lives they were, how entrenched in a normal existence Sarah had now become. But old habits died very hard. It would just take a little lag time, he knew.
"That's just one call, Chuck," Morgan called as he had started to walk away.
Cole was on his way out the room when he almost collided with Casey. "We have bigger problems," he said to Cole direly. "The team in England's been trying to send a Code One secure message through the frozen channel for hours."
"Oh, no," Chuck stammered, rising to follow both men out, feeling pulled in a hundred different directions. Hannah had been right. He heard Sarah shriek, a stuttering cry that cut into him. The closer he got to the conference room, the more he could hear the sound of Sarah crying. He wanted to go to her, feeling if she was this unraveled she was overwhelmed. Their roles had reversed, he realized, the farther away from working a dangerous job she had gone.
"Chuck, we need that information right now. I'll handle this call," Cole told him, placing his hand on Chuck's chest to hold him in place. Cole implored silently with his eyes, passing the information wordlessly, that he would do whatever he could, so that he didn't worry about his wife.
"Casey, what happened?" Chuck called to him before he turned away, dread trailing an icy trail down his spine as he watched Casey's face, frozen and stern.
"They were ambushed. Zondra's critical," Casey said flatly. Cole hissed in anger, and hurried into the room away from him.
It took all Chuck's strength to turn and walk back into his office, leaving everyone else to deal with the other crisis. He paused at his office door, seeing Hannah standing there, having returned once his office door was open again. "Sounds like you could use a hand," she said. "I know it's all classified or whatever. But…I'm here. And I can help."
He flashed a wan smile, gestured for her to follow him into his office.
XXX
Sarah had managed to pull herself together before Casey activated the satellite link. The hardest part of doing so was admitting to herself that she'd needed to in the first place. All this time Chuck had been lamenting the loss of their normal life. Did he realize at all how drastically different she had become? She was a soccer mom, as Cole had teased her. For Chuck, for herself and her innermost dreams—she had left behind the spy life. The transition had happened rather quickly, their son born only a few months after they had both walked away for good. She had amazed herself at how easily she had relaxed into that new life.
The other mothers, like Andrea, took their lives for granted, moaning about the mundane and boring tasks of the day. Standing out again there was Sarah—hopelessly in love with the dullness. For she had seen the true luster they couldn't—a beautiful sheen that gleamed whenever she gazed upon her life. Three beautiful children and a husband who loved her beyond reason—impossible dreams Chuck had helped her salvage from the wreckage of her life. No one who had ever had to live without hope could have ever understood how precious that truly was.
But now all of this was in danger. Slowly but surely they were being pulled back into that life. Only, frighteningly, she was nine years removed from Sarah Walker. And Sarah Walker was needed, she knew, as she now nervously looked at the face of her friend on the satellite feed.
Carina—her eyes always as blue as the most perfect painting of the sky—now looked at her, red-rimmed with pupils disparate in size. Head injury, Sarah thought in alarm. Carina didn't cry. Sarah had known her for 17 years and had never seen her shed a tear, only crocodile tears when needed on missions. "She's been in surgery for hours," Sarah heard her say, jarring her back into the room. "Damage to her liver, something like that," she added softly.
"You mentioned intel?" Cole asked, redirecting the discussion to pertinent facts, though the under current of worry remained.
"It's in my possession. Did you check on the DGSE agent I informed you about?" she countered.
"They don't have any record of an agent by the name you provided. It could be a deep cover. I know the CIA had no record of me as MI6 while I was under cover in Fulcrum," he explained. The unknown man's bravery, as well as his heroism in saving both their lives, seemed to counter indicate any foul play.
"He made sure we were safe, that we got medical attention. But he disappeared, and I don't have a way to contact him," Carina told them. "He was perfectly aware that the intel was in my possession. He wanted me to get it to you. Apparently he's been in possession of it for a long time. But that was all he explained."
"The link is secure. You can download at will," Casey said, nodding toward the screen as he checked his encryption protocol. He watched Carina lean forward, load the zip drive into the computer. His gaze flitted back and forth as he noted the data was in the process of successfully transferring.
"The Hungarian knew the intel was there. What Jean-Pierre or…whatever his name actually is…was doing with it, I have no idea. If he was working for the French government, why not just turn the information over to them? Why hide it, taking a risk that it could be intercepted?" she thought out loud. "But then just leave it with me, tell me to hand it over to the CIA?"
"Something doesn't add up," Cole interjected. "While I'm not at liberty to say your mystery man is a double agent, as that seems rather unlikely, the whole thing seems strange. We're making a lot of assumptions here."
"This is heavily encrypted. I'm sending it to Bartowski. I'm sure he can figure it out," Casey told them as he sent the information along the secure line to Chuck's computer.
"I'm pulling you, Carina. Zondra's hurt and so are you, and you can't finish this on your own–"
"I have a concussion. Bad headache, that's all. I've done more with less. That bastard almost killed her. Maybe he did, still, I don't know. But he's not getting away from me," she swore, her blue eyes icy with her ruthless grimace in place. "If he's on his way to America–"
"Carina, I have another team following up, looking for your DGSE agent. And the Hungarian. Lay low until you hear from me again, is that understood?" Cole said sharply. He too knew what it was like when Carina's headstrong nature asserted itself.
"I'm sorry, Sarah," Carina said, purposely turning to look at her friend. She blamed herself for this, Sarah knew. Zondra's injuries, her team's failure. The problem with Carina was that she never learned. Perhaps she was to blame. But this time her mistakes had cost them all.
XXX
The hour was late, much later than he would have ever usually been working on a Friday evening. Corrine had gotten in touch with him the moment communications were restored. Everyone was fine, pizza was ordered, movies commenced with the Robert children. It sounded so sickeningly normal to him, until he looked at the screen in front of him and what he was doing. How completely bizarre–that life or death situations still required a baby-sitter.
Chuck continued to try and focus on what he was doing, but his mind kept wandering. Corrine had explained how Sarah had left Stephen in a state of panic. He knew why, but it still upset him, knowing she had in any way contributed to their son's unease, now still unexplained. He wanted to talk to his son, assure him that nothing was wrong. He wanted to talk to Sarah, see her, but she was still in with Cole and Casey, counting on him to do the computer work as quickly as possible. Sarah was worried for her friends, horrified about her teenage sister's compromised credentials, and most utterly overwrought, thrust headlong into the spy life again after such a long hiatus.
"Chuck, it's done," Hannah said softly, breaking into his train of thought.
He typed quickly on the keyboard, scanning through the text as fast as he could. His worst fears were confirmed, when the name he had flashed on appeared in the same file as the information about Sarah and Hannah, in the file the courier had been carrying. Whoever Sarah had paid for the phony documentation had recycled the name of a deceased individual, the way Sarah had first explained long ago could happen when Chuck had flashed on Casey's old flame, Ilsa Trinchina. This name also seemed Russian to him, though the passport was Hungarian.
The problem turned over in his mind, and he mentally dissected it, taking it apart piece by piece. It was his method, his failsafe problem solving device. In school, at the Buy More, and later as an asset and eventually the spy he had become. Sure, the Intersect was important. But problem solving had always been his forte. And it was what he needed to do now.
Start with the keys, he knew. Who, what, where, when, why and how. It could be like a math problem, like algebra. When there was only one unknown, it could be solved. If there were two unknowns, then two separate equations were needed. Before he did anything else, he needed to examine his variables. His knowns. Most importantly was what–the cybernetic Intersect that the Sentries had been trying to build for nine years. Why was obvious–the same why he had been fighting against for 15 years. Where seemed to be in the U.S., based on every piece of evidence he had seen. Three down, three to go.
He was still thinking when Hannah spoke again. "There's another file here. It looks like Casey just sent it over."
He didn't broadcast what he was doing, what it was, since Hannah was, like she had told him, just helping. She was involved, but really had no security clearance to handle the information he was sifting through. In no time, he realized this had to have come from Carina. Obtaining this information had very nearly cost Zondra her life.
It took him the better part of an hour to break through the coding protecting the file, but he had managed it. As the data started to appear, Chuck nearly stopped breathing. A spy will. Since when was it protocol to encrypt a spy will? It wasn't personally addressed, like the ones he had read before–his father's, Daniel Shaw's, Evelyn Shaw's. Instead it was a compressed file with thousands of pages of data. More in line with what Casey had seen when he had uploaded Hartley Winterbottom's disks, that proved he was Agent X and all the intrigue associated with that. The oddest part, Chuck thought, was that, even though this was a spy will, the photograph and name of the recipient were blacked out, hidden from his scrutiny.
He started digging, looking for something that he hoped would make sense in relation to this current situation. He knew he would have to go back, peruse it more thoroughly, but for now he was skimming at breakneck speed. Even at that quick processing pace, Chuck's mind was working subconsciously, pulling apart the problem so he could attack it from the inside out, like he had always done.
Hannah stopped, and seemed to ask him what was wrong. He hadn't realized he'd said anything out loud, as he found what he thought he should have been looking for. Proof that the Sentries knew about Molly, and the inheritance that she could claim as her own someday. The plan that had been set into motion to secure those funds to progress the Ultima Intersectio project forward in the wake of Kowambe's death.
And worst, chilling his blood to ice, was the date. The day before the courier had been picked up by Interpol in London.
That, he thought, was when.
Two variables left. It clicked into place, all the pieces separated in his mind like a map.
They were moving the entire packet because they knew how to proceed. Total project–who, what, where, when, why, and how. This team had already known what , and why. Proof that Molly's inheritance was the intended how was here in front of him. And the only reason they would have been moving that much data at once into the U.S., the where --was because they were 100% certain of the who , the key, and how to secure it all.
He feared the interception of that packet had only delayed them, not hindered them permanently.
They were coming for Sarah's sister.
They were coming for his son.