A/N: Ownership of Chuck is alive and well.
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Three days after Roan Montgomery's poisoning
Casey and Bryce stood at the back loading dock of the West Miami Hospital next to a hearse and driver. Each man was wearing his funeral suit and dark sunglasses against the bright sunshine.
Casey made sure the driver of the hearse was out of earshot and said, "Any word from Amy?"
"Couple of hours ago," Bryce replied. "Everyone is looking, but no joy. Banacheck's gone in a puff of smoke."
"I'm not surprised. She had things pretty well thought out," he said.
"Yeah. What was it she said? Plans, plans and contingency plans?"
"Yeah," said Casey. The Coast Guard had caught up to Banacheck's speedboat the other night, heading out to sea. The boat was unmanned and rigged to head straight into the Atlantic Ocean until the fuel went dry. Somewhere she'd either jumped and swam to shore or had someone meet her with another boat. They may never know. Amy was coordinating the search for Banacheck with the local authorities, but without success.
"Will Amy meet us at the airport?" asked Casey.
"No. She's going to come with Chuck and Sarah later. She wants to spend as much time here as possible to try to nail Banacheck," said Bryce.
"Good luck to her. I'll bet that woman has a hundred identities prepared to use for just such a situation."
"Yeah, probably," said Bryce. "Dangerous lady."
Casey grunted and said, "Yeah." He looked like he'd tasted something bitter.
Two attendants wheeled out a coffin and the driver moved to open the back door of the hearse. Bryce and Casey nodded to the driver and went to their rental car as the three other men muscled the coffin into the back of the hearse. They had arranged to meet back up with him with a representative of American Airlines and ride with the coffin to New Orleans. Bryce had taken care of all the funeral arrangements and done so to Casey's satisfaction.
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The arrivals gate of Miami International Airport was busy, but not overly so. At the end of the week, there were more departures than arrivals. The passengers from the West Coast were filing out past the row of waiting livery/limo drivers. Most of the drivers were holding up signs with the name of the intended passenger.
An attractive woman in a sari and colorful head scarf came out of the gate, wheeling a small suitcase. The woman was dark skinned and dark haired, and had sad eyes. Her gaze fell upon a sign that read "MUKHARJEE" held by an African American woman in a black suit. She approached the sign-bearer and said, "Good morning. I'm Amala Mukharjee."
"Good morning, Ms. Mukharjee. Let me take your bag, please," said the woman, putting away the sign.
The two women silently left the terminal and entered the hired limo, one as the passenger and the other as the driver.
A little more than a half hour later, the limo arrived at a plain white building without signage. The driver parked in a visitor's spot. She held the car door for the passenger in the sari and gestured towards the entrance of the building. They passed by a security guard with a nod and walked down a long, unmarked corridor. At the end of the corridor was a door, which the limo driver opened with a card key. She guided her former passenger to a door marked with the number seven and politely gestured for her to enter.
Sitting on the edge of the bed in the center of the room was a man who appeared to be Sikh. He had a full black beard, dark skin and wore jeans, a polo shirt and a dastar, the traditional headdress of the Sikh culture. He contemplated her for a few moments silently and then said, "Hi, Susie. I think I had some bad clams."
She looked back at him and said, "Yeah? That's why I'm dressed like I just came from Mumbai?"
She went to him slowly and wrapped him in her arms, kissing him and holding him fiercely. As they broke the kiss, but not the embrace, Roan said quietly, "I love you." It was the first time in his entire life that he had uttered the words sincerely.
Susie Case jerked back in surprise and looked at him with amazement. Finally, she said, "I love you too, Roan." She went back to kissing him, now with tears in her eyes. She mumbled, "But we're losing this beard soonest."
"Yes, Ma'am."
Chuck, sitting in a corner of the room, not visible from the door, smiled and turned to look at the woman driver. Sarah had pulled off the full-face mask complete with wig, and shaken out her long blond hair. She smiled back at Chuck, both of them touched by the scene in front of them.
As Sarah took off the gloves that changed the skin color of her hands and used a finger to remove brown contact lenses from her eyes, Susie and Roan separated.
Roan said, "Susie, you remember Chuck and Sarah, right?"
"Of course, I do. Hello again," she said, shaking their hands.
"I was dead, Suze. Flatlined. Sarah and her team kept me alive with CPR until the medics arrived. An old enemy shot me up with puffer fish toxin of all things. If not for them, the funeral they are throwing in NOLA this afternoon would be the real deal. It's why you had to come to Miami to help me get home. I'm going to be as weak as a kitten for a few weeks, darling. They didn't trust me to travel alone."
As he spoke, her eyes were widening with shock. "Oh, my God," she gasped. She looked back and forth between Roan and Sarah and Chuck, then she moved to embrace Sarah and then Chuck. "Thank you so much."
"My pleasure," said Sarah.
"Is Roan still in danger?" Susie asked, concern in her voice.
"Yes, very much so. His enemy escaped," said Sarah. "She's a wanted woman and we are looking for her, but she's very, very smart and dangerous. She came within a hair of exacting her revenge on him." Sarah didn't see the need to mention that US and allied intelligence agencies had a termination order out on Sasha Banacheck. "We had the CIA announce Roan's death and we are holding his funeral this afternoon. We are hoping she buys it and moves on to other things."
"You won't find her," said Roan, shaking his head. "My guess is she's in Russia already and she won't leave. She'll have enough old friends to protect her there. I suppose she might end up in Belarus, but that's really the only country Russia can call an ally. Maybe Ukraine, but I doubt it. With what she tried to do, she's going to know that her life is forfeit outside of that sort of protection."
Chuck said, "I think you'll be safe at home in Maui. I've fixed up your pension trail, so that's not going to lead to you anymore. We've taken Maui out of all of our reports of this operation. It's an Agency plane, so the crew isn't surprised when I told them I was going to monkey with the flight records. I removed any record of the aircraft landing or taking off in Maui. My team and the flight crew are the only ones who know that's where we headed, and the crew never even got your name. You should be fine to go back...Mr. And Mrs. Mukharjee. You can resume using the Fielding identity once back on home ground."
"Thank God," said Susie.
Chuck held out his hand, palm up, displaying two gold wedding bands. "For the cover."
Susie gasped quietly. Roan reached out for the rings, picked up the smaller of the two, and took Susie's hand. Looking her in the eyes, he slipped the ring onto her finger silently. She started to cry a little bit. She reached out and took the larger ring from Chuck's palm and slipped it onto Roan's finger.
"Honeymoon?" Roan asked with a bit of a sideways grin.
"No, Roan," said Sarah seriously, "Staycation for you. You going to behave?"
"You mean am I going to go hunting for her? I'm not. She almost killed me this time. She laid a trap and I walked right into it like an idiot. Didn't hesitate a moment. Maybe I'm too old and retirement was the right thing to do. I can't say. But I'm not going after her. Next time I might not be so lucky. I might not have the top spy team in the country having my back."
"Don't be too hard on yourself, Roan," said Chuck. "None of us covered ourselves with glory this time around. To the extent she fooled you, she fooled us too."
Roan stepped forward and put a hand on Chuck's shoulder. "Chuck, that's bullshit. When you and your team realized the flashdrive was empty you immediately figured out what was going on. Immediately. You saved hundreds of people on that boat and even managed to save me. You even came up with the fake death thing to throw her off the scent. Your team's performance is going to be the stuff of legend. I'm honored to have been given the opportunity to work with all five of you...even the Major."
"Not calling him Franky anymore?" asked Chuck with a grin.
"Aw...well, maybe Franky." He chuckled. "But seriously, I can tell. Your team is the one that's going to do it...be decisive. Defeat these Fulcrum assholes. I don't doubt that for a single moment. I'm not exaggerating when I say that the fate of the nation is on your shoulders and I couldn't think of a better place for it to rest. Langston and Diane are just lucky as hell that you were somehow assembled at just the right time...the rest of us are too. Take the fight to them, you two. I trust you to do it."
Both Sarah and Chuck were deeply moved by this extraordinary praise from the legendary spy.
"Thank you, Roan. No one can live up to that kind of praise, but we'll do our best," said Chuck.
Sarah said, "I'm sorry. Chuck and I have to go. We have a funeral to attend this afternoon. Two members of my team have flown ahead with a coffin. Now Roan, you take it easy and listen to Susie."
"I'll take good care of him," Susie said, with tears in her eyes.
"I know you will," said Sarah.
Susie pulled Sarah into a crushing hug and whispered, "Thank you."
Sarah whispered back, "You're welcome."
Chuck hugged Susie Case, shook hands with Roan, and left with Sarah.
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Chuck, Sarah, Casey, Bryce and Amy stood in the hot New Orleans sun as the minister bestowed the blessing on the coffin supposedly containing the earthly remains of Mr. Roan Montgomery. They were all in their funeral attire and looking appropriately solemn. Sarah and Amy even appeared to be crying. Chuck handed Sarah a clean handkerchief and she smiled her thanks. As Roan was an only child and his parents had pre-deceased him, they were the only mourners.
After a suitable blessing had been offered the men from the funeral home eased the coffin into the appropriate slot in the Montgomery tomb. By the carved date on the lintel of the small stone building, the tomb had been built almost two hundred years earlier. The white marble was old and weathered, but still bright in the sunlight. All were happy to be wearing their sunglasses.
The ceremony over, they shook hands with the minister and thanked him. Bryce took care of the payments and gratuities and they began to walk out of the cemetery known as St. Louis No. 1. The cemetery was laid out in a grid-like pattern with streets and cross streets, each lined with white (or once white) stone tombs for the interred deceased, some very ornate. There was even one shaped like a small pyramid. Many of them had, like the Montgomery tomb, been there for a very long time. As it was in the center of the French Quarter, and only eight blocks from the Mississippi, leaving the cemetery took them right into the center of the city's renowned entertainment and historical district.
Bryce said, "I read up on this. The Montgomery family must be pretty prominent in town. Historically, at least. St. Louis is the oldest and most famous of the City's cemeteries. And they have some really famous cemeteries here. They give tours and everything. Call them the Cities of the Dead."
Amy said, "Why are they all above-ground? Vaults instead of traditional cemeteries with graves?"
"Water table's too high," explained Bryce. "They tried burying the dead, like every place else does. Whenever there was heavy rain the coffins would pop to the surface and float down the street."
Casey started laughing at the vision that conjured.
Bryce continued, "They put holes in them. Filled them with rocks. All kinds of things, but it didn't help. Eventually, they came to this solution."
"Speaking of flooding," said Chuck, as he looked around at the restaurants and bars and old French-style homes, "I thought Katrina did more damage a couple of years ago. Things look really nice. Did they clean up that quickly?"
"Nope," said Bryce. "French Quarter wasn't flooded. It's the oldest section of the city. And, the highest. It's above sea level, and was ok when Katrina fucked up the rest of the city. The original settlers here didn't have the tech to build the levees that keep the water out."
They had come to a bar Casey knew and went in to take a large table. The host recognizing Casey and greeting them all as old friends as a result.
Sarah got a text message. "No joy," she announced. "The watchers didn't see anyone scoping out Roan's funeral. No sign of Banacheck or anyone who might have been her in disguise."
"So that's it, then. She's still in the wind," said Amy bitterly. She still blamed herself for Banacheck's escape. Sarah gave her a squeeze on the arm and a small smile of comfort. They had all, especially Bryce, assured her that she'd made the right decision.
"Roan told us this morning that he figures she's in Russia and will be there for a long time to come," said Chuck.
"Yeah," said Bryce. "That makes sense."
The proprietor brought them each a Sazerac, the classic New Orleans cocktail made with rye, absinthe and cognac. Chuck raised his in toast and said, "To Roan."
Sarah said, quietly, "And Susie."
As the evening progressed, they went to two more bars before stopping for dinner at a smallish restaurant known only to locals, and to Sarah. The food was spectacular.
They ended the night in a jazz club, all pleasantly relaxed and enjoying themselves. Sarah had her head laying on Chuck's shoulder as his arm cuddled her to him, both of them zoning out to the great music.
As they walked up the center of Bourbon Street on the way back to their hotel, drinks in hand, some shirtless college kid up on a wrought iron balcony holding his own beer can aloft shouted down at Sarah and Amy, "Show us your tits."
Chuck and Bryce glanced at each other and, laughing, grabbed the tails of their shirts and yanked them up to their chins. Everyone started laughing, even the kid on the balcony. Even Casey.
Team B was still laughing when they got back to the hotel.
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A/N2: Right. Everyone here knows how much I like to steal from Ian Fleming, and while the character of my Roan Montgomery was a pretty direct theft of Bond, so was the twist in this chapter. Here's the story. It was 1956, Fleming was getting tired of writing the James Bond books (as he expressed in a letter to his friend Raymond Chandler) and was contemplating an exit strategy. With that in mind, he ended the novel From Russia With Love with what seemed to be Bond's death. In the last few sentences of that book, Bond was poisoned with tetrodotoxin by a Russian woman named Rosa Kleb and collapsed to the carpet. By January of 1957 Fleming had reconsidered his decision to kill Bond and the spy returned in Dr. No having recovered from the poisoning. In a conversation between the Mi-6 doctor and M at the start of that novel, the explanation given for Bond's survival was that his friend, the French spy Rene Mathis, had kept Bond alive with CPR until the doctors arrived. If it's good enough for Fleming, it's certainly good enough for me.
A/N3: Sarah's disguise. I don't want anyone to think that I'm stealing from Mission Imposible here. The mask and gloves are real life CIA stuff. I've mentioned the legendary Tony Mendez in a prior A/N (Chapter 87, A/N5). Mr. Mendez was married to Jonna Mendez, the CIA's chief of disguise, now retired. The CIA's mask disguise technology is now declassified and Ms. Mendez has given multiple interviews discussing them, including one anecdote where she wore one into the Oval Office to show off the technology to President George H.W. Bush (himself a former CIA Director). Check out Ms. Mendez' videos on YouTube discussing disguise. Lots of fun.
A/N4: End of the Banacheck arc. How'd I do? Sasha Banacheck is in the wind, and she's a really dangerous opponent. She's the first of our villains to not only come close to beating the heroes, but also to live to fight another day. I wonder if she'll ever reappear in New Day? Anyone want to take bets? Anyone here surprised that Roan survived? Anyone not surprised because that twist was just too obvious all along (especially to those who know me)? Either way, I'd love to hear from you all.