With a little perseverance you can get things done

Without the blind adherence

That has conquered some

"Never Surrender"

Corey Hart

October 3, 2021

Paris, France

They had left England on the first flight out, and most of the plane ride had been Carina filling Sarah in on more specific details of her and Zondra's mission. Just before boarding, Carina had received a message from the hospital that Zondra was resting comfortably in the intensive care unit, stable for now. The surgery to repair her liver had been successful. It was now just a journey towards recovery, her body fighting to heal and ward off infection. Her prognosis was good. Sarah had sighed in relief, this entire time her concern for her friend burning in the back of her mind.

Exhausted from the previous day, Sarah rested as best she could mid-flight. Following protocol, only one of them could safely sleep at a time. Sarah had offered it to Carina, worried for her friend, who seemed affected by her concussion, despite her best efforts to feign normalcy.

Carina's decline of that offer worried Sarah more. Head injury and no sleep was not a good combination, especially when headed into a precarious situation. She knew though, Carina was just as worried about her apparent lack of field readiness.

What a pair we make, Sarah thought ruefully. We'll be lucky to get out of this alive.

Before leaving England, the two had studied the layout of the cathedral, as well as a satellite image overlay of how the area looked in present day, as it was cordoned off, closed to the public after the devastating fire in 2019. The roof and spire were gone, but the towers were still structurally sound. The enormous, two year long project of removing construction scaffolding on the outside of the structure was finally complete. The foot traffic in and around the damaged building was now drastically decreased, making their mission easier.

Carina had parked the car, after they had agreed to walk to the Ile de la Cite, the actual island in the middle of the Seine where the cathedral was situated. Still inside the car, they were doing further reconnaissance. It was more difficult not knowing exactly what they were looking for, armed with only vague clues. Sarah's spy senses were duller than she wished, and something had been nagging at her, something her subconscious mind was trying to solve in the background while she was otherwise functioning.

"The barricades extend out from the front entrance about 50 feet, and extend all the way around the structure. Now that the scaffolding is down, there looks like only minimal gendarmerie presence at these two points," Carina said, pointing to the digital map on her device that sat in her lap.

"Chuck said Hannah mentioned steps. The main entrance is ground level," Sarah said.

"The steps are in the towers," Carina explained, moving her slender finger to point to a different spot on the diagram. "Touristy thing to do, you know, climbing them," Carina muttered.

Sarah had a strange, unreadable expression on her face. Carina could only describe it as a happy memory, that was also making her sad at the same time. Her suspicions were confirmed when Sarah answered dreamily, "Yes."

It had been a long time since she had been here with Chuck. Over 11 years ago, she thought. They had only explored the Left Bank–but climbing up the steps and then back down had been part of a glorious day that had started on the top of the Eiffel Tower and ended in bed in their hotel room.

Carina snapped her fingers in front of Sarah's face. "Daydream about Chuckles later, ok?" Carina said sharply. Sarah flashed her an annoyed look. "If I don't get you back to him safe and sound, he'll kill me," she said with a sarcastic smile.

"July 14th. What does that have to do with anything? The Arc de Triomphe is on the Right Bank, nowhere near here. This is ancient architecture. How could anyone have hidden anything here?" Sarah mused out loud. "Seven one four," she muttered to herself, questioning.

"One four seven," Carina corrected her. They swap the day and month in Europe. Jeez, Walker, you really have been out a long time."

Damn it, was Carina going to heckle her the entire time?

Even as Carina spoke, the numbers appeared in her mind as a whole number. One hundred forty-seven. Sarah gasped, sitting up sharply. Why was that number standing out?

Sarah grabbed the iPad, sliding her finger across the screen to the data. "Three hundred sixty-seven steps in total," she said as she read, disappointed that the number didn't match her sudden insight.

Carina opened her eyes wider, as if something just occurred to her. "Right, Walker. But it's one way. Up the north tower, across the parapet, into the south tower. Then up…hah!" She declared triumphantly, tilting the iPad back to Sarah. "One hundred and forty-seven steps to the top of the south tower."

"What is up there? Is there a place he could have hidden anything?" Sarah asked her.

"You were apparently here last, Sarah. Maybe if you hadn't been playing grab-ass with your boyfriend you'd have remembered," Carina snickered at her.

Sarah groaned in frustration. "Did I tell you how much I missed you, Carina?" Sarah replied. Carina's reply was a wicked smile. Sarah scanned the diagram. "It's solid stone, all the way up, all the way down. That parapet is narrow as hell and out in the wide open. There's a gift store in the middle, isn't there?" Sarah asked herself out loud.

"Well, there isn't anymore, even if there was before," Carina retorted.

"Chuck also said it was May when Jacques was assigned to that project. After the fire. If he hid something here, it wasn't in a public area like that. The place was crawling with people trying to fortify the structure at that point," Sarah explained. "It's solid stone, Carina," she said again, shaking her head.

"The steps to the south tower. It has to mean something," Carina argued.

Sarah closed her eyes to concentrate. "There are…statues. Gargoyles. Chimera, they call them. You can see them from the parapet. They're pretty intricately carved. Do you think…?"

"Can you access them from the parapet?" Carina asked. "Or are we talking dangling off of something to get to them?"

"I don't remember," Sarah sighed in frustration. "Chuck is a little afraid of heights. He was freaking out on the parapet. I had to kind of scoot him back inside."

"Of course he is," Carina snickered, rolling her eyes and smiling crookedly. Sarah looked daggers at her, irked. "What?" Carina scoffed in mock outrage. "He was always…special."

Swallowing over the painful lump those words had caused to materialize, Sarah only nodded. Clearing her throat gruffly, Sarah said, "We have to start somewhere. We get behind the barricade, take out the security guard, and enter through the north tower entrance. Take the ropes and harnesses, just in case we have to do some dangling."

Sarah jumped out of the car first. "I'm not dressed for dangling," Carina pouted, slamming her door seconds after Sarah.

October 3, 2021

Burbank, California

"Daddy," Abby pouted, crossing her arms in front of the dish that sat before her on the kitchen table. "You left the crusts on my bread. Mommy always cuts off the crust."

Chuck looked up from behind the refrigerator door, sighing. He shut the door, sliding the jug of milk onto the counter. Before he could turn to the drawer to grab a knife, Corrine was rushing to the table.

"Don't worry, Lovey. I'll get it," she beamed at the little girl. Corrine reached for the knife still sticking out of the peanut butter jar on the counter next to the table.

"It's all the same, dumb-dumb. It's just bread," Stephen quipped, walking towards the table from the living room.

"No name calling, please," Chuck admonished him.

Stephen's face fell. He looked extremely contrite, more than was expected for a minor slur with a casual correction. He started to talk, Chuck knew, probably apologize, when Ally spoke up, her mouth now empty.

"She thinks she's a princess eating a cucumber sandwich," Ally giggled.

"Cucumbers are gross!" Abby spat back at her sister.

"It's peanut butter and jelly," Stephen said, like he couldn't believe what Ally had said.

"Well, Princess Peanut Butter of Jelly, here is your royal sandwich," Corrine pronounced, in exaggerated grandeur, sliding the dish back to her, her regular sandwich cut into four perfect, crustless squares.

"The way you talk makes it sound official," Ally laughed.

"But of course," Corrine quipped back, smiling widely.

Chuck was darting back and forth in the kitchen, finishing throwing lunch together. "Listen, Your Highness. The soccer coach doesn't recognize your royal stature. Eat. We have to leave in 15 minutes!"

"Dad, where is my Switch?" Stephen called from behind Chuck.

Chuck spun. "A. Wherever you last left it, considering no one uses it but you. B. Why are you looking for that when you are supposed to be getting ready?"

"C. You're a dork," Abby sneered at him, sticking out her tongue, unable to resist getting him back for his earlier jab.

Chuck clapped his hands together. "Eat," he commanded, looking at Abby. He pointed to Ally as well, not adding another word when the order was the same. "Go get your gi on and pack your stuff. Move. Chop, chop!" he said, stopping to stuff the remainder of his own sandwich in his mouth.

"I'll take Chewie outside, Charles," Corrine called. "Stephen's running a little behind."

Chuck finished his water then put his dishes into the dishwasher. Ally came up behind him, sliding her dish into the sink from around his waist. He thanked her, then told her to put on her soccer shoes, reminding her to not walk away from the mat with her cleats. Abby was slower, and he moved out to the table to almost literally pull her dishes out from under her. He pointed her to the door without words. The sound of his son bounding down the stairs was a welcome sign.

"Where's the dog?" Stephen asked, scanning the living room.

"Aunt Corrine took him out. Just get your bag and head out to the car," Chuck said quickly, shutting the dishwasher door. Stephen passed Corrine as she entered and he exited, patting the yellow lab on the head.

Chuck was rushing to grab his keys, scooting out of the way of the dog as Corrine undid his leash. "Thank you," he called as he breezed past her. He stopped short, noticing the crease in her forehead. "What?" he asked soberly.

She looked off, focusing on something in the other room. "Oh, nothing. Nothing," she repeated more confidently. "I know you said hopefully by five, Charles. Vivian and her boyfriend asked me if they could stop by this evening, with Hartley's mother."

Chuck had the feeling she was going to say something else, but changed the subject. "It's fine, Corrine, honestly. Have Hartley over as well. You don't have to ask," Chuck said with a smile.

"Well, it is your house, Charles. One can never be too presumptuous," she teased. Her smile was frozen. Chuck narrowed his eyes, wondering, but quickly shifted it out of his mind as he darted out the door to get in the car with his children.

Corrine watched until the car backed out of the driveway before she moved to the window to scan the street outside. Both windows in the living room, the window in the kitchen, plus the back door. She resisted the urge to run upstairs, telling herself the upstairs windows were only higher vantage points of the same views. The NSA detail was not static, she knew that. They kept their placements fluid, trying to blend into the neighborhood without attracting undue attention. General Casey's girlfriend had been providing additional security, following the children back and forth from school under the special NSA contract, and a tiny contingent remained in this neighborhood as well.

But her count was off. There were too many cars, marked and unmarked, when she added them together. She needed to call General Casey, have him check. There was no such thing as too careful, not in this situation.

She had no signal when she pulled out her phone.

October 3, 2021

Paris, France

Only the faint ghost of sunset remained on the horizon by the time Sarah and Carina had approached the Ile de la Cite via a bridge. The sky was dark as they approached the outside of the barricade. They leaned against the light blue wood, now appearing closer to gray in the darkness. "Gendarme," Carina mouthed to Sarah, tilting her head ever so slightly. Through a slit where the boards connected, Sarah peered inside, watching as the uniformed officer slowly strolled around the perimeter. He looked bored and unprepared, most likely accustomed to monotonous nothingness on this assignment.

Sarah slipped just the tip of her tranq pistol through the same crack, waiting until the lackadaisical loop the gendarme walked brought him to the closest point he would get to them in his staggering circle. She fired, hitting him on his left shoulder blade. He never felt or saw anything, just crumpled to the ground in a lumpy heap. There was another, they knew, so they needed to move his body out of the way until he woke up.

Sarah tucked the pistol into the back of her waistband, grabbed the top of the barricade, and pulled herself up. She felt Carina push up her leg, and she swung it over the top, holding herself upright as she swung over the wall and dropped soundlessly to the ground. Carina was taller, and needed no extra boost, only seconds later landing next to Sarah. Together they dragged the unconscious man behind a line of shrubbery, pulling the dart out of his back before they walked away. He could wake disoriented, but would have no proof that he hadn't just fainted. Precipitating an unnecessary visit to the doctor, but nothing more.

Carina checked her watch, nodding silently to Sarah. They had 15 minutes before the second guard made it back this way, when he could potentially find his incapacitated companion. They ran to the doors, tall, ancient looking wooden doors with heavy, traditional looking iron locks. Sarah knelt, pulling out her tools and easily picking the lock on the door for the north tower. She finished in no time, pushing the door and holding it as Carina slipped through as well.

Over two years after the fire, Sarah's nose still stung as she smelled the acrid stench of burnt wood and ash. Inside the stone vestibule beneath their feet were layers of dust and ash, blown into uneven piles along the walls. Leaning out, she could plainly see the entire roof of the enormous church was gone, the night sky and stars visible where the walls and jagged stained glass windows ended. She switched on her headlamp, waiting until Carina had done the same. They started running up the stairs.

Ancient stone, hundreds and hundreds of years old, worn more smoothly in the centers from generations worth of use, lay in an evenly spaced out spiral, only several steps visible in the cone of light from their headlamps. It turned sharply, dizzying as they seemed to be climbing and spinning in a tight circle. Sarah was in the lead, Carina close behind, but leaving enough gap to not be kicked in the shins as Sarah ran. Sarah was in shape, but she was still winded as she counted the steps. One hundred. One hundred fifty. She slowed when she heard Carina wheezing behind her.

"Burnt…wood…asthma," Carina panted. She waved to Sarah with a backhanded flourish. "Keep going. No time."

Sarah changed her pace, keeping the rhythm slower. She was concerned for her friend. But she also knew needing to stop for an inhaler was counter to a successful outcome. They reached the top, turning out through the door. The parapet was visible, a super thin mesh high on both sides, there to deter jumpers only. It wasn't sturdy enough to act as a wall. Sarah dropped to her hands and knees, creeping in a military crawl across the parapet, with Carina behind her. They wouldn't be visible from the ground this way, the most exposed they would be during the entire procedure.

Sarah paused at the end, at the entrance to the south tower stairwell. Her knees ached when she pulled herself up to a crouching position, feeling her age and dismissing it quickly. She pointed to the menagerie of cement gargoyles lined on the edge of the building. Even standing in front of the railing, the closest gargoyle was what looked over five feet away. Carina had an infrared scanner in her hand, and directed it towards the closest statue. Sarah leaned to watch the screen. She noted the varying grades of color, indicating different heat signatures around the statue. The air was crisp for October, and the surrounding stone was appropriately cool.

When Carina moved to scan towards the top of the statue, Sarah did a double take. At the gargoyle's head, there was a sensor ghost. A hole in the signature, indicating something was reflecting the infrared beam. Metal. There were bolts at the base securing the statute, but nothing else on the entire structure. The other gargoyles farther away scanned completely cold. Sarah exchanged an intense gaze with Carina. It was the open, snarling mouth of the gargoyle. With something metal inside.

"Bingo," Sarah whispered, sliding the pack off her back and fumbling for the ropes she needed. "Time?" she asked Carina.

She raised her hand, all five fingers splayed out. Damn it, Sarah thought to herself. Slowing down for Carina had caused the climb to take longer than anticipated. She had to do this fast. She tried to tell herself running down the stairs would take less time. She hoped.

She clipped the ropes onto the black harness she wore, then used the metal claw to secure the line to the ledge. Carina pulled to make sure it was secure. Sarah jumped up, straddling the ledge and shimmying along until she was within reach of the gargoyle. She pivoted, planting her feet on the wall, trusting the rope to hold her as she pulled herself upward, scaling the statue. She reached for the head, pulling herself up by her arms.

The stone beneath her hand was so smooth, worn by weather, making her grip tenuous. Both hands were in place, and her right hand slipped. She felt her palm smarting, the skin scraping against the surface. She dropped, gasping, watching in her peripheral vision as Carina strained to put tension on the line, not so much worrying that the rope wouldn't hold Sarah, but that her dangling freely would create too much momentum and her body crashing into the building could seriously harm her. She reached up, grasping the lower jaw of the wide-mawed gargoyle, pushing past the pain in her raw hand, the only purchase left for her. It was then that she felt the smooth edges of something, secured to what would be the roof of the gargoyle's mouth, but what was in fact just an unfinished swath of stone with a crevice along the edge. Hanging by one hand again, Sarah reached into her belt for a pick. She reached up, wedging it under the smooth edge, prying until it gave way. Tight in her grip, she slid it down and tucked it into her belt.

She nodded to Carina, who maintained the tension as Sarah pulled herself back to the ledge. She reversed the motions she had used, shimmying backwards until she was at Carina's side. "We're out of time, Walker," Carina told her impatiently.

Moving so quickly Carina saw Sarah's hands as a blur, she packed away the ropes, zipped up her back, and slung it over her shoulders. They ran to the south tower steps, then started running down. It was still dizzying, almost worse this time because they were barreling down at breakneck speed. Sarah almost lost her footing twice, cursing herself for almost twisting an ankle and endangering the mission.

All the while she was running she couldn't stop thinking about how whatever it was she had acquired had ended up where she'd had to scale the building to find it. How had Jacques managed to stash it where he did, when he did? Sometime between May and August, right after the fire. Just from the news, Sarah remembered the scene of the church during that time was reminiscent of Ground Zero in New York, with a smaller scale and much less debris. Chuck thought Jacques was an asset, not a spy. If so, she thought, how did he manage that? Did he have help? Someone working at the scene, maybe? She was still thinking when they skidded to a stop at the bottom of the stairs.

They stood together, out of breath, at the bottom of the stairs. Their safety window was gone, so the second guard would be around the edge of the building by now. Sarah slid to the doorframe, pressing herself flat as she peered out. She saw him, ten feet away, approaching quickly. He must have tried to communicate with his partner and had gotten no response. She pulled out her tranq gun, holding it up to her face, waiting yet again. He saw her the same instant the dart hit his exposed neck, as he fell forward like a chopped tree.

Sometimes being hit with a tranquilizer dart erased the memories prior to the shot, by several minutes, sometimes longer. She hoped that his brief glimpse of her disappeared with the next few hours. Carina pulled the dart from his neck, then ran for the barricade. She went over first, then reached herder to help Sarah over.

They waited until they were both safely inside the car before Sarah removed the object she had taken from the chimera's mouth from her belt. It was a small black metal box, the size of a cigarette lighter, only it opened the opposite way, on the oblong side of the box. Sarah pressed the small button on the side, and the lid clicked open. Carina watched her lay something in her uninjured palm, then stretch out her hand to show her friend.

On Sarah's palm was a small metal device, the size of a half dollar. The surface was a spiral, like a seashell. One end folded into the center, the other protruded to a blunt, male-ended adapter. The thing that held Sarah's attention, in a horrified stare, was the fact that it was stained in large blotches with what looked like human blood.

October 3, 2021

Burbank, California

Chuck stood, anxiously glancing at his watch, as his son was finishing his karate practice, while both of his daughters were practically hanging from his belt in their impatience. Chuck had hoped Griffin's older sister, Chloe, would have been in attendance to help deflect their boredom, but as Andrea had said when they'd arrived, she was with her friend today. He'd had to smile and chit chat about where Sarah was, Jim having told her yesterday Sarah was gone. How strange that she hadn't mentioned it before, Andrea had commented.

She was a sweet woman, he knew that. And yet, he understood how sometimes she drove Sarah absolutely crazy. Her small talk, idle chit chat was exhausting him, but he consciously reminded himself, just as he had with her husband, that Andrea had no idea what was really going on. Sarah's in France retrieving some piece of secret intel, trying to protect her young heiress sister from a conglomerate of bad guys who are trying to build a real-life Borg to match the one in my brain. At least then, maybe she would have thought they were so crazy she would have just left them alone. Internally, he criticized himself for such thoughts.

He was just worried. And he missed Sarah like nothing he could ever even begin to explain, especially not to someone who just thought she was taking a language certification class somewhere. If she were, he would have been less worried. But he wouldn't have missed her any less. That was their truth, what made people like Andrea wonder if they were for real. Yes, they were for real. He was that lucky. He just prayed every minute that their luck hadn't run out.

"How much longer, Daddy? This is sooo boring," Abby groaned.

"Five minutes. I know this is boring. As boring as your soccer game was for your brother," Chuck told her.

"I scored two goals," Ally pouted, cutting in. "That wasn't boring."

"No, no…no, Honey. That was fantastic," Chuck said, hoping his six year olds couldn't tell he was forcing enthusiasm he just didn't feel. "But he had to watch you eating grapes on the sidelines too. That's pretty boring, right?"

Abby rolled her eyes, while her sister giggled, all gums and no teeth, her arms tight around Chuck's leg. "Can we go get chips in the vending machine?" Abby pleaded.

Chuck bent down to tell Abby that dinner was due in only a short time. Early today, because he needed to get to the office and do more research on the data Carter had given him. He nearly choked on the heavy scent of perfume, at the same time he heard a low, sultry voice behind him.

"Hi, Chuck," Tammy almost purred. He visibly flinched when he saw how heavy her makeup was, and how much of her cleavage was hanging out of her blouse. "Andrea said Sarah's away and you're doing the Mr. Mom thing. Poor baby," she cooed.

Was this woman for real? He thought. She was like a parody of herself. "Oh, I'm fine, Tammy. Honestly," he stuttered. She actually winked at him.

It was when he turned away, wincing, hoping his kids didn't see his reaction, that he saw Gertrude Verbanksi walking through the door of the dojo. Fear gripped him, even while in the back of his mind thinking he had allowed both of his daughters to get a bag of gummy bears. He felt his stomach sink like a stone when he saw the urgent look on her face. Panic was a stretch. Gertrude didn't panic. But if she did, well, this was pretty close.

He ignored Tammy, and walked away as his daughters made their way to the vending machine. "What?" he asked urgently, not wasting time at all.

"Chuck, Corrine Winterbottom approached one of my agents stationed outside your home about two hours ago. She said her cell phone had no signal. They entered the home, and did a security sweep. Your house was clean, but there is definitely some kind of low-level communication interference. A jammer that is being controlled specifically from some outside source. We were able to put countermeasures in place. For now," she said seriously and crisply.

"How is this possible?" he asked tightly.

"It's probably something mobile that moves out of range of our scanners. They are rotating frequencies, so nothing we put in place is a permanent fix," she said.

"Why did you come here, to tell me this?" he asked, still nervous.

"Casey told me to tell you in person," she explained. "And to not worry, the NSA is circling the wagons. Casey thought you'd be able to get a better grip on it than any of the other experts the NSA has at their disposal. He just wanted you to know, when you go home, they could jam outgoing communication, incoming calls, or potentially listen in to either. So just be aware, Chuck." She patted the front of his shirt, wearing a flat smile. It was odd, a stiff movement for her. She was learning to be more amicable, he thought, which was good. But she was learning from Casey, which was, well, not as good as it could be.

He walked back into the dojo, sighing as he saw both girls eating candy as they stood next to Griffin's mother. Tammy was talking to Andrea, and looking at him. She'd seen the interaction with Gertrude, he knew. He approached the mat, hoping no one else talked to him, because he was afraid he would really lose his cool in front of everyone.

The kids finished, and the room filled quickly with students and parents spreading out. Chuck wove quickly through the crowd and grabbed his son by his shoulder. "We need to go. Now," Chuck said firmly.

"Ok, Dad," Stephen said immediately, almost running to get his shoes. Whatever Stephen had seen on his face had frightened him, Chuck knew that, sorry that it had to be this way. The last time he'd been with Stephen at karate, dilly dallying as he always did was no issue. Things had certainly changed. And not for the better, Chuck thought, as he moved to go back and corral his daughters.

"You kept asking when we were leaving. Now it's time to go and you're fooling around! Let's go!" he shouted at them, seeing their brother each grab a hand and pull them as they followed him out.

They were all out the door, in the parking lot, when Chuck saw Ally's face. Abby was fine, would always be fine. Ally's bottom lip was trembling, because he'd been short with her, something he rarely did. He crushed his eyes closed, scooping Ally up into his arms, still able to hold her like he had when she was a toddler, because of his excessive height. "I'm sorry, Honey," he whispered in her ear, turning to take Abby's hand as they walked to the car. "We're just in a hurry," he added.

"Dad is stressed out," Stephen told both his sisters. "He's not mad. Right, Dad?" Stephen said, like he was instructing Chuck what to say. How odd, he thought, properly chastised by his son.

"Right, right. I'm not mad." He heard Sarah's voice in his head.

If you freak out, he's going to freak out.

Stephen was buffering his freaking out. The sadness hit him like an ocean wave. Growing up too fast. Just what he had been trying to prevent. What he never wanted for his children.

Dad, what do I do? He asked in his head, knowing there was no real answer. He was surprised when he got one anyway.

Listen to your son, he heard in his father's voice. Let him help you. It is what he is destined to do. Always.