A/N: Seems that no one here owns Chuck, and that explains a lot.

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Anna Horn looked out her window at the clear blue sky and smiled to herself at the early coming of spring to Budapest. Maybe she'd walk to Margaret Island at lunchtime and eat her sandwich watching the river pass. It would still be too cold to dip her toes into the water, but it would be relaxing to watch it.

Her reverie was interrupted by the ringing telephone on her desk.

"Helló, Farkas úr irodája." [Hello. Mr. Farkas' office.]

"Do you speak English?" asked the woman's voice on the other end of the line. Anna could tell it was an American accent, and that the voice sounded stressed.

"Yes," said Anna.

"The missing Kossuth girl...is there a reward? For the baby...is there a reward?"

Anna's voice caught in her throat. The missing baby from last summer's Kossuth Massacre, as the newspapers had named it. Over twenty dead men. The parents murdered and the baby missing. Her employer, Andor Farkas, was the attorney and executor for the estate of the deceased Kossuths.

"Yes," said Anna, "there is a reward."

"If I have the baby? How much?" asked the woman.

"Five million euros," she said. There was a click as the line went dead.

Anna jumped from her seat and ran down the hallway to Mr. Farkas' office, her lunchtime plans forgotten.

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Chuck and Sarah were dressed for an evening out, he in a nice suit and new Italian shoes and Sarah in a black cocktail dress. The maitre d' brought them to a table in a secluded nook and Chuck said, politely, "Actually, please, we would prefer the main dining room, if you wouldn't mind. I get a little claustrophobic."

"Certainly, Sir," said the man. "Right this way."

He led them to another table for two, this one in the main dining room and with a good view of Tom Kaplan. The man was wearing a black suit, white shirt and black tie, half undone. Masculinity wafted off of him like a cloud of musk.

Sarah saw Kaplan glance up from the menu and notice her as she sat down and thanked the maitre d'.

"Well," she said. "He's got decent situational awareness. He just noticed us come in."

Chuck laughed and said, "Honey, every straight guy and gay woman in the room watched you come in. That's got nothing at all to do with situational awareness. It has everything to do with the fact that you are the most beautiful woman most of them have ever seen."

She gave him a loving smile and said, "And I'm all yours."

"A fact that never ceases to amaze the hell out of me," he said, giving her hand a squeeze.

Sarah touched her watch and said, "Casey, Amy, Kaplan is here in the restaurant looking at the menu. You guys are a go."

"Roger that, Walker. We're going in," said Casey from one of the rooms adjacent to Kaplan's suite.

Sarah's back was to Kaplan, leaving Chuck to tell her what was going on with their target. Chuck had gotten quite good at noticing without seeming to be looking. "Heh," he said, "Kaplan can't seem to stop looking at you."

Sarah smiled and took Chuck's hand in hers. She brought it to her lips and kissed it, then rubbed her cheek with the back of his hand while looking at him with love.

Chuck smiled happily and said, "Ok. He's looking away finally."

"Good," said Sarah.

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Casey stood watch in the hallway while Amy inserted a card into the door lock for Kaplan's hotel suite. The card itself was the right size to fit into the slot, but above the card was an electronic device about the size of a deck of cards. Its red light blinked several times, but within no more than thirty seconds turned green. There was a dull click and the door unlocked.

Casey and Amy stepped into the room and closed the door as quietly as possible. The lights were already on. They drew their weapons and moved swiftly and silently through the rooms, speaking quietly to each other as they cleared areas in a dangerous smooth choreography. The suite consisted of a large living room with a bar along one side and a glass fronted balcony framing a view of the dark ocean beyond. The single bedroom was through a door to the left, contained an ensuite bathroom and had its own access to the balcony.

The only signs that Kaplan had been in the rooms were a black backpack tossed onto a living room chair, a black duffel bag on the bed, and a dopp kit on the bathroom vanity. Both the duffel bag and the dopp kit were open. A toothbrush stood in one of the hotel's glasses next to a tube of toothpaste and a crumpled-up hand towel. Neither Casey nor Amy had touched anything since entering the suite. Once they were assured they were alone, they holstered their weapons.

Speaking quietly, Amy said, "Checked into the room, dropped his backpack on the chair, threw the duffel on the bed, took out the dopp kit to brush his teeth and wash his face, then headed downstairs for some dinner."

"Yeah, that's right, I think," agreed Casey.

They headed back to the front door of the suite and took out their phones. Methodically, they began to take pictures of everything they could see. Slowly, they moved into the room still photographing everything. This went on for a while. Then they began to search.

Amy pulled to the right and began to go through the living room while Casey went left into the bedroom. She would photograph something, then she would search it for the intel Kaplan was going to sell to Fulcrum. When she'd finished her search, she would photograph it a second time.

The app on her phone permitted her to flip back and forth between the first and second pictures of the area she had been searching, instantly seeing any difference between them. They knew that spies left "telltales," markers to alert them if anyone had searched their room or belongings. If Kaplan had left any telltales, for example, a book an eighth of an inch out of place, she could put the book back perfectly to match what it had looked like before she had conducted the search. Any mistake in that would show instantly in the photo comparison. Telltales could be as simple as which way the handle of a coffee cup was pointing. With this app Amy and Casey would be able to rearrange things so that Kaplan couldn't tell visually that his room had been searched even if he was using the same app on his phone.

Other than the backpack, Amy found nothing in the living room to even indicate that Kaplan had been there. The backpack contained an iPad and a paperback book (The Spies of Warsaw by Alan Furst). Otherwise, it contained the same assortment of items her own travel backpack would have contained, such as cigarettes (no lighter with a carry-on), a single change of clothes, a bullet proof clipboard, paracord, an umbrella, a compass, a map, and a plastic handcuff key. Amy smiled to herself a little bit. Wherever Kaplan had learned his trade was very similar to the clown college she had attended a few years back. She stopped her search for a moment when she found a mouth guard such as boxers would use in a fight. Interesting, she thought, that's actually a pretty good idea that she'd try to remember for her own future preparations. She couldn't do much with the iPad without Chuck and more time than she and Casey likely had.

Casey was methodically searching the duffel bag, having found nothing in the search of the bedroom and bathroom themselves.

Casey touched his watch and said, "Walker, Bartowski, any change with Kaplan?"

"Well," responded Chuck, "He's got his steak. With french fries and what looks like creamed spinach. Glass of red wine, but can't tell what kind."

"TMI, moron," said Casey.

Amy said, "What are you and Sarah having?"

"I'm having tilapia with julienned vegetables and Sarah is having lamb chops with orzo. I'm drinking a Sauvignon Blanc and Sarah is having a Chardonnay."

"Yummy," said Amy.

Casey just grunted.

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"So, I was thinking," said Chuck.

"Uh oh," said Sarah with a smirk, her blue eyes twinkling, a forkful of orzo poised on the way to her mouth. "You want to buy a horse?"

They had spent the morning horseback riding in the hills, the first time they had tried it together. Turns out, they both had fun.

Chuck smiled at that. "Nope. I was thinking that our new company is going to need a website. Most new companies use a shared server for their website because it's easier and cheaper. At least until the company grows enough to get a separate server to host."

"Ok," said Sarah.

"I want to start with a separate dedicated server right from the beginning," said Chuck.

"Ok. Why?"

"Because I intend to use the website as a testing tool for potential employees."

"How so?"

"Well, if someone wants to submit a resume to be an office manager or bookkeeper or something, fine, whatever, they can submit through the website. But, if someone wants to be employed as a hacker, they have to be a really good hacker. No pikers need apply. The website won't accept a resume for a hacking position in any normal way. They will have to hack into the server and leave the resume that way. I can make the server completely secure except for one tiny complicated door I'll create for them to get through. But I'll make sure that to find and unlock that door, they have to be good. Really, really good. You don't get an interview unless you make it through the door. And once the first applicant does, I'll change the way in so that he or she can't share the secret with friends. It will always be an entry test and always be unique and always be really hard."

"And once they get through your door, you won't let them get to anything else?"

"Nope. Everything on the other side of the door will be protected. Only thing they can get to through the door is the area to drop off a job application."

"Ok. Makes sense then that you don't want a shared server to put other people's stuff at risk. How are you going to … I don't know...advertise for the job openings?"

"There are a number of dark web sites that cater to guys like me. I'm going to go on and announce that the Piranha is back, but has gone over to the light side..."

"Or the dark side, depending how you look at it," said Sarah with a raised eyebrow, spearing a bit of lamb chop.

"Well, yeah. I'm sure I'll get some of that. Accusations of selling out. Anyway, I'll tell them I'm looking to hire in the LA area. They'll get to hack like crazy and get paid for it. And paid well. If we are going to do this we'll have to charge the government a lot of money. We only want the best hackers out there. We should pay them accordingly."

"That makes sense. To hack into the IC a hacker will have to be pretty elite," said Sarah.

"Exactly. And the best way to get them and keep them and keep them happy is with money," said Chuck.

Casey said, in their ears, "Kaplan's room is clean. If he's got the intel for sale, it's on his person. We're coming down now. Hopefully, Kaplan hits the bar after dinner."

Amy said, "And hopefully, he's looking for a little companionship. That would be my opening."

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Amy sat at the far end of the hotel bar as Casey, behind the bar, served her a vodka gimlet in a martini glass. She had changed in the room they had taken next door to Kaplan's suite and was wearing a very short slinky black dress, with spaghetti straps, showing a lot of leg and shoulder. In fact, there might have been more of her showing than was concealed.

Chuck and Sarah were sitting by themselves at the other end of the bar, drinking wine.

Kaplan was sprawled in an easy chair, drinking a vodka martini and watching the room as if he was appraising its value for a possible purchase.

Chuck said, quietly, "I'm still uncomfortable with the whole seduction thing."

"As uncomfortable as you would be if I was up at bat?"

"No. Not even close." He paused for a moment or two, remembering Sarah with Lon Kirk. He almost shivered with the discomfort of the memory. He looked like he'd bitten into something particularly bitter. "Not even close."

"It's part of the job, Chuck," she said.

"I know. But she's become a friend and … well, I just don't like it."

"I understand." She rubbed the back of his hand. "We'll be listening to her the whole time. Remember she has a safe word. If she asks for Cristal champagne, Casey and I come in hard."

Amy got up and moved to the chair next to Kaplan.

"Hi," she said. "I noticed you sitting alone."

"Very observant," said Kaplan. He had a smooth deep voice with a pronounced British accent.

"Do you want some company?" she asked him.

"Not really," he said. Chuck and Sarah glanced at each other, surprised.

"Well," said Amy, "neither do I. But, the problem is if I sit alone at the bar every guy here is going to think I'm lonely and desperate and try to take a shot at a total stranger."

"Isn't that what you're doing right now?"

"Guilty as charged," she said with an abashed look, or what would have been an abashed look if she had truly been abashed.

He watched her closely for a long moment and said, "If we are going to continue this conversation there's one thing I want to make abundantly clear. I'm not a very nice guy."

Amy smiled widely and seemed to bounce on her chair a little bit as she clapped her hands quietly together in front of her face, "Oh, goody. Nice guys bore me."

"Really? And why is that?" he asked, his voice a quiet growl.

"I get off on danger, of course. It's an aphrodisiac. And there's nothing much more dangerous than hitting on some strange guy in a hotel bar, particularly one who looks as … competent, as you do."

"Well, then why don't we take this conversation up to my room? I can promise you all the danger you can handle."

"Oh, I think you might be a little surprised by how much I can handle," said Amy with a lascivious smile, putting her hand on his arm as she stood.

They headed to the elevator. As the doors to the cab closed, Kaplan moved in and began to kiss Amy.

Chuck, Sarah and Casey left the bar and headed to the elevators. The team watching them was very subtle and they didn't notice that they were under observation.

Team B took the elevator to the twenty-fifth floor but didn't leave the elevator cab until they had heard, in their ears, the door to Kaplan's room close. Then they moved down the corridor to one of the rooms next to Kaplan's penthouse suite. The whole time, they were listening to the sounds of Amy and Kaplan heavily making out in the elevator, walking down the hall and opening his door. Chuck was distinctly uncomfortable with this eavesdropping. The heavy breathing sounded like it was coming from a bad porno movie.

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Amy and Kaplan kicked the door to his room closed without their lips parting. Their frenzy to get each other's clothes off was all-consuming. Amy's dress hit the floor first. As she wasn't wearing a bra, her breasts swung free. Kaplan's jacket and shirt were next and moments later they were pressed chest to chest, her hands rubbing the hard muscles of his back and neck. Stumbling a little as they tried to move through the room to the bedroom while kicking off their shoes at the same time, they bumped into the wall near the door. That didn't slow them down for more than a moment.

If Kaplan noticed that Amy had kept her purse in her hand, he gave no indication.

They tumbled together to the bed, Amy on top and sitting atop his hips. Her purse was dropped next to her. They kissed with increasing passion. His strong hands slid down her back to grab the globes of her butt on either side of the thong string from her tiny panties. She moaned into his mouth as her hands came up to his neck. She interlaced her fingers behind his neck, her palms on either side.

She redoubled her efforts as their tongues danced with each other. At the same time, she raised her palms up to either side of his throat and pressed firmly, constricting his carotid arteries. She knew from experience that he would be unconscious within fifteen to twenty seconds.

Ten seconds later, his closed eyes opened and went wide. He pulled away from her entertaining mouth. With a sweep of his arm he knocked her arms aside and away from his neck. She began to struggle with him. He got a leg up under her and pushed hard on her belly. She flew off the bed to land on the carpet in a loose backwards somersault. She had caught her purse on the way off the bed and came out of her roll with her weapon in her hand.

Kaplan had sprung up off the other side of the bed, drawing his own weapon from an ankle holster.

The two of them stood facing each other across the bed and across their gunsights. Neither moved as each appraised the other. In each case, their aim was rock steady.

Amy said, calmly, "Cristal."

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"Ok," said Sarah. "Going in. Case, I'll take the balcony. You take the hallway."

"No, Walker," he responded. "I'll take the balcony."

"Why?"

"How are you getting over the railings in that dress?"

She glanced down at the dress, wrinkled her lips in a tiny smile, and said, "Ok. Good point. You take the balcony."

She took the device they had used to open Kaplan's door earlier in the evening and moved to the hallway.

Casey stepped out onto the balcony outside their room and moved to the edge closest to Kaplan's room. A cool wind blew in, smelling of the ocean. He levered himself over, to stand on the outside of the balcony railings. The other balcony, the one outside of Kaplan's room, was about four feet away. As a very young man, Casey had lost his fear of heights while doing countless military obstacle courses. He knew that the trick was to deceive your mind into thinking that what you were about to do was at ground level, rather than twenty-five stories in the air. With that in his mind, he stepped easily between the two balconies and lightly hopped over the railing onto Kaplan's balcony. Piece of cake, he thought to himself.

He tried the sliding door to Kaplan's bedroom, but it was locked. He began to pick the lock.

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"Carotid arteries, heh? Clever, but not this time, Love," said Kaplan with a half-smile, his gun not moving.

Amy shrugged, but her aim also never wavered. "What can I tell you? It usually works."

"I imagine it does. You were very distracting."

"Thank you. That was the point."

"Who do you work for?" he asked her.

"You first," she responded.

"What? I'll show you mine, if you show me yours?" he asked, with a bit of a smirk.

With a slight tilt of her head, she said, "I think I'm a little bit ahead of you on that one."

As if she'd appeared by magic, Sarah was suddenly in the doorway to the bedroom with her gun pointed at Kaplan, her cold blue eyes serious and deadly.

Moving his head slowly, Kaplan looked around at her, his gun staying steady on Amy. He said, "Oh, bloody hell. Are all your people gorgeous?"

The light curtain blew inward as the sliding door opened behind Amy. Casey stepped through, with his gun pointed at Kaplan.

Kaplan looked at Casey and said, "Ah, no, I guess not."

He threw his gun on the bed and raised his hands.

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A/N2: The app that Casey and Amy used in Mr. Kaplan's hotel room is real and can be used to make sure that your stuff has not been messed with in your absence, or, as shown here, to make sure that there's no visual evidence that someone's stuff has been messed with. It's called Phototrap and operates as I've described. Unfortunately, it seems to be (temporarily?) unavailable as of this writing (12/2020).

A/N3: Why didn't Cole think that Amy (Sarah in canon) was a prostitute? It seems the most logical explanation for her behavior in the hotel bar. I just re-watched the episode again and any cynical world traveler in that situation would be asking the price. Just sayin'.

A/N4: I know I changed canon and didn't have Amy defeat Cole single-handedly (as Sarah did in canon). As Cole proves to be a formidable adversary later in the story, I thought this made much more sense. He can make his way through nine opponents (maybe twelve?) but Sarah can take him down while in her undies? I mean, I know she's good, but at very least the fight would have lasted longer and broken furniture.

A/N5: Let me know what you think, please. Cole Barker has been captured by Team B. Let's see what happens next. And, if you have a mind to, head over to the Facebook page for Chuck FF. Good folks hang around there. Stay safe, peeps. Wear a mask and wash your hands.