A/N: At this point, I have to wonder who does own Chuck. It's not you or me, so it's a mystery.
A/N2: There were a boatload of A/N's at the start of the last chapter that have applicability to this chapter as well. If you need to look back to figure some stuff out, go ahead. I won't tell anyone. But I'm not going to repeat them here, which just seems silly.
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Bakersfield, California, KPFG Studios, 21:20 UTC (47 minutes from shootdown)
Special Agent in Charge Prescott, from the Bureau's Critical Incident Response Group, looked at his technician and asked, for the fifth time, "So this is just the news helicopters?"
"Well, it's just the frequency that they use. I can't promise there isn't some kid nearby with a walkie-talkie that..."
"Ok, ok. Fine." Prescott pressed a button on the mic he was holding and said, "Four news helicopters. This is Special Agent Prescott, Special Agent in Charge of the scene you are broadcasting. I need you to go to ground for ten minutes in the parking lot two streets west. It's marked with yellow tape and can hold you all."
The radio's speaker began to chatter with objections. First amendment. The public's right to know. Frankly, Prescott was in favor of all of those things. Unless they put lives at risk. Right now, they put lives at risk.
He pressed the button on the mic and spoke again, his voice harsh and borderline yelling. "Understand something. You will do exactly as I say or I will personally make sure that the most complicated thing you will ever fly again for the rest of your life is a paper airplane. That is a stone-cold threat. Deal with it."
He watched with satisfaction as all four helicopters left the air above the building and made their way to the marked parking lot.
He spoke to the man next to him.
"Tell Carmichael's team they have a clear run."
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CIA Helicopter over Bakersfield, California, 21:25 UTC (42 minutes to shootdown)
Chuck's hair was whipping in the wind from the open helicopter doors. It had been a frantic hour. Chuck, Sarah, Casey and Fitz and his guys had agreed upon a plan, donned their black fatigues, collected their gear and run outside into the Castle Studio grounds to a waiting CIA black chopper, its rotors already turning. The flight time was about forty minutes. Although they wore headsets, permitting them to talk to each other over the noise of the engines, they were mostly silent. Chuck and Sarah held hands, but none of the others did.
They got the confirmation from the FBI that the news feeds to the building, which they knew the terrorists were monitoring, would not show the roof of the building. And the building's security had no cameras on the roof. So, as long as the news feeds were blind, so were the terrorists.
As they approached, Chuck and Sarah, on one side of the aircraft, and Casey, on the other, stood on the landing skids, mostly outside the copter. Chuck had never done anything remotely like that before. Excitement and terror were in a strange mix in his bloodstream, but more than either of them, was concentration. He had to get to the laptop and shut down the launch. He knew the military was prepared to try to knock down the satellite if he couldn't do it, but that might not work. The best way to stop them was to use the same mechanism they had used to cause the problem to begin with. Chuck knew he was the best shot at doing that. With Sarah and Casey with him, it was the best shot they all had.
Sarah squeezed his hand and gave him an encouraging look. He responded with (what he hoped) was an equally encouraging look; one which didn't reveal the extent of the fear he felt with nothing between him and the ground but a single metal rod under his feet. For a moment, he considered how strange it was that he was about to enter a building full of terrorists (which the DNI had called suicide) and he was most afraid of falling down. Ah, well.
They saw the building approaching. Chuck looked around for the news helicopters and, not seeing any, breathed a sigh of relief.
The aircraft flew rapidly at the roof of the building, paused for a couple of seconds for Chuck, Sarah and Casey to jump off and instantly made its way over the top and to the front of the building, where all the news camera trucks were broadcasting its arrival. Fitz and his guys, dressed all in black and festooned with weapons, clambered down. They took their time and made a bit of a show of it.
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Bakersfield, California, KPFG Studios, 21:27 UTC (40 minutes from shootdown)
Fitz, dressed like a huge sci-fi stormtrooper, marched over to the command tent. He went in, but Leo, Billy and Marco remained outside. Once he got into the tent, he pulled off the helmet and said, "I'm Fitz."
"Prescott," said the FBI man. "Until a moment ago, I was in charge here. But, as of right now, you and your team are in command." The men shook hands.
"Understood. So, tell me, Prescott, am I famous?"
"Yeah," said Prescott. "All the news cameras are showing your landing. You wanted to make a splash, you got it. And the assholes inside are watching on the TV's, so they won't be paying attention to the roof."
"Excellent. That was the plan. You can put the news choppers back up," he said.
"So soon? What if your guys are still getting through the locks on the roof door?"
Fitz smiled without mirth and said, "They're not. Shit like locks aren't going to slow my guys for long. I'm sure they are in already. Get those birds back up before someone inside notices they're down."
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White House Situation Room, Washington, DC, 21:27 UTC (40 minutes from shootdown)
"Are they in?" asked the National Security Advisor.
The DNI looked down at the monitor one of his technical guys had running, showing the radio station's security cameras.
"Yeah. They're in," he responded.
The President said, "John, have your guys put that feed up on the big screen here, so we can all watch."
At the press of a few buttons, the main screen in the Situation Room came alive with Casey, Chuck and Sarah making their way down a hallway. All three had weapons in their hands.
The President said, "Don't we need a tech guy to run the computer, John? Not just spies and commandoes."
The DNI pointed at the screen. "That man in the middle, Sir, with the dark curly hair...that's Carmichael, the best tech guy we have."
The President nodded, but looked a little surprised.
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COBRA Meeting Room, London, 21:30 UTC (37 minutes from shootdown)
"George, did your men make it in?"
"Thank goodness, they are in and so far, undetected, Gordon."
"Superb. Good luck and godspeed to them," said the British Prime Minister.
"Amen to that. I'm watching them now," said POTUS.
"How?"
"We have the live feed from the station's security cameras."
"How would you feel about sharing that with your cousins?"
"Of course..." speaking to someone else in the room, the President said, "Get this link to the COBRA meeting. And set us up with an open line. They need to know what's happening as it happens."
Less than a minute later the screen in the COBRA meeting room came alive with the footage from the security cameras and the two rooms were linked by an open phone line.
Sir Trevor Broadchurch, the Director of the Secret Intelligence Service, mumbled something when he saw the first of the footage.
"Sir Trevor?" asked the Prime Minister.
"I said, thank God, Sir. Thank God it's them."
"You know them?"
"By reputation, yes, the whole team, but I actually shared some pints with the men a few weeks ago. They are top-flight. Absolutely top-flight. One of my most hard-headed men, a veteran of the Regiment, who's seen them in action, he tells me that they are the best he's ever seen."
"Smashing," said the Prime Minister.
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Bakersfield, California, KPFG Studios, 21:32 UTC (35 minutes from shootdown)
'No, his mind is not for rent, to any god or government...'
All the speakers in the building were playing the same song, seemingly on repeat.
Casey said, "Elevator coming up." They could see the lights on the panel above the double doors increasing.
Casey went into an office to the right, Sarah and Chuck one to the left. The elevator binged and they heard two men talking and walking down the corridor, the voice getting louder as they approached. In his ear Chuck heard Casey say, "One...two...three."
On three Casey and Sarah stepped out of the offices on either side of the corridor, their silenced weapons held at full extension. The two men looked at them with shocked expressions. The guns spit their deadly messages and the two terrorists collapsed to the carpet.
The three of them stepped over the bodies and moved down the hallway, turning right at the end, finding the stairs.
'And what you say about his company, is what you say about society...'
Leo began to speak into their ears, "Guys, we are set up outside and I have the security camera feed. You are clear in the stairs to two floors down."
"Roger," said Casey.
As they got to the fifth floor, where they would find the rack room, Leo said, "Two armed men outside the rack room on guard in the hallway."
Chuck, Sarah and Casey stopped just around the corner from the two men. Sarah, in front, whispered, "You take the high road and I'll take the low road?"
"Roger. On three," Casey said.
'Exit the warrior, today's Tom Sawyer'
After the count Casey and Sarah moved out from the corner, facing the two men on guard. Sarah was on one knee with her weapon extended and Casey was standing immediately behind her his weapon held over her head. Both guns fired at the same time and the guards went down.
Chuck sprinted past his partners, hurdling over the bodies, to the rack room door. The man at the laptop computer looked up startled, but was clearly trying to accomplish something on the computer before Chuck could get to him. Chuck put two trank darts into the man and moved to catch the computer before it fell off the table.
Casey and Sarah followed Chuck, more slowly, checking the rooms along the hallway for the enemy. In one, labeled 'Station Manager' they found the bullet riddled body of a middle-aged man behind a desk.
Getting to Chuck in the rack room, Casey pulled the unconscious body to the side, out of their way.
Chuck was sitting in the man's seat and tapping on the computer.
"Well, kid?"
"We're good. He tried to disconnect, but it's easy to see where he was. I'm going back in. Give me a few."
"Right," said Sarah.
'Love and life are deep, Maybe as his skies are wide...'
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White House Situation Room, Washington, DC, 21:38 UTC (29 minutes from shootdown)
POTUS, watching the screen with the same rapt attention of everyone in the room, said, "Damn. Now I just wish these cameras had audio."
One of the techs tapped the DNI on the arm and spoke to him for a moment.
Malone turned to the President and said, "We can do that, Sir. The watches the team wears have microphones for internal communication. We can activate them and hear what's going on in that room."
"Do it, please, John."
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Bakersfield, California, KPFG Studios, 21:40 UTC (27 minutes from shootdown)
Chuck was tapping at the keyboard frantically, his fingers moving so fast they seemed to blur.
Into their ears they heard, "Team B, this is the DNI. We've accessed your internal net just to stay in the loop with what's going on. We'll be on mute, but will be here if you need us."
"Yes, Sir," said Sarah.
Into the same communications net, Leo spoke, "Heads up, team. The guys on the ground floor are starting to get nervous. They are sending up another three guys to check out where you are...and...smart guys, they are coming up the stairs on either side, not all together."
"Roger that, thanks, Leo," said Casey. "Looks like stealth is no longer necessary."
"Yeah," said Sarah, holstering her pistol and pulling her H&K MP-5 submachine gun on its sling to her front. Things were about to get interesting. Casey looked to the right of the door and Sarah to the left.
'Don't put him down as arrogant, his reserve a quiet defense..'
It took only a few minutes, but two armed men came into the corridor to the left of the rack room door. With short bursts from her weapon, Sarah killed them both. The man coming up on Casey's side, ducked back around the corner and began to yell into his walkie-talkie.
Sarah said, "How're you doing, Chuck?"
"Good progress. Only a few more minutes."
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White House Situation Room, Washington, DC, 21:45 UTC (22 minutes from shootdown)
The President asked, "Why is Tom Sawyer playing over and over?"
"We think it has to keep transmitting to maintain the connection with the satellite. Best guess is that someone just hit repeat on the song that was playing at the time they took the station and let it keep repeating forever," said the Secretary of Defense.
"Shit. I used to like that song."
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Bakersfield, California, KPFG Studios, 21:46 UTC (21 minutes from shootdown)
Leo, looking at the screens, said, "Heads up, Team. The gunfire is bringing a shitstorm your way. Another four guys heading upstairs...and they look pissed."
"Roger that," said the Major. "We'll be waiting."
Fitz turned to Captain Day, of Bakersfield SWAT, and the FBI man, Prescott. "Any minute now the hostages on the ground floor are going to start to pay the price for what's going on upstairs. Alert your snipers. When the four leave to hit my team, there's only five guys left downstairs. That math works."
"Right," said Day.
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COBRA Meeting Room, London, 21:46 UTC (21 minutes from shootdown)
The Prime Minister said, "Well, Sir Trevor, seems you were right. Seems this team can do it."
Sir Trevor smiled at his boss and said, "Yes, Sir." Inside, he cursed the man for calling a win before the match had ended. Bad luck was sure to follow.
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Bakersfield, California, KPFG Studios, 21:48 UTC (19 minutes from shootdown)
There was no subtlety in the attack. The men didn't care if they lived or died, so long as they could stop Team B in the rack room. They ran down the corridor firing their weapons. Casey and Sarah didn't enjoy the sick task, but felt no remorse as they mowed the men down with full auto fire from their own weapons. The men had made the choice and died with the consequences of that choice.
The last man standing threw a fist sized object before he died at Casey's hand. It flew through the air, hit the doorframe over Sarah's head and ricocheted into the rack room.
"GRENADE," bellowed Casey.
Chuck glanced up from the keyboard and saw the ugly black object skittering across the floor towards him. Instinctively, he kicked it, knocking it aside. Less than a second later he was knocked off his chair by Sarah, who covered his body with hers as they hit the floor. A moment later, Casey landed atop both of them, driving the wind from Chuck's lungs.
The grenade exploded with a harsh, deafening bang and shrapnel sprayed everywhere. With karmic justice, the tranked body of the terrorist on the floor took the brunt of it, but all three members of Team B were wounded by vicious bits of flying metal. Chuck's adrenaline was pumping out at prodigious levels and acting as a painkiller. He barely noticed the wounds.
As the three untangled themselves from the ground, and glanced at each other quickly, Chuck grabbed at the computer he'd been working on. It had been blown off the table by the blast and was on the floor next to them. There was a hole straight through, showing the inner electronics.
"Aw, shit, Guys. This computer is fucked. Goddammit."
'He knows changes aren't permanent, but change is..'
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White House Situation Room, Washington, DC, 21:50 UTC (17 minutes from shootdown)
"Goddamit," growled the President. "Ok. John, your team gave it a great try. Bob, up to you. Tell Offut to knock it down."
Secretary of Defense Bob Gates said, "Yes, sir."
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Bakersfield, California, KPFG Studios, 21:50 UTC (17 minutes from shootdown)
Captain Day said to Fitz, "My snipers have shots on four of the five."
Leo, from his seat at the monitor said, "Fitz, the last guy is not in the same room as the hostages. If one of us should breach..."
"Right. That's it then. Day, have your men take the shots when I give the word." Fitz left the tent and said, "Billy, you're with me."
The two men ran across the parking lot to stand on either side of the door to the building. They knew the hostages and five terrorists were just on the other side. The door opened outwards, so there were hinges in addition to the lock to breach. He and Billy slapped small breaching charges onto the door.
Fitz said, "Day, your guys still have the shots?"
"Affirmative."
"Ok. Have them take the shots on three...one...two...three." The bang of the breaching charges mixed with the crack of four sniper rifles firing at the same time. As the door fell outward, Fitz and Billy rushed through the breach.
Four terrorists lay dead on the floor near the hostages. Billy went through a door to his right and was met with thankfully inaccurate gunfire. A burst of fire from his MP-5 killed the remaining man.
"Clear," said Billy.
"Clear here," said Fitz.
Leo said, enthusiastically, "Building clear of hostiles. Go get our guys, Fitz."
"On my way, Leo."
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Bakersfield, California, KPFG Studios, 21:50 UTC (17 minutes from shootdown)
"Fuck," growled Chuck. "I need another computer."
They were silent for a moment, until Sarah said, "Station manager's office. He's dead, but he's got to have a computer."
With Casey and Sarah covering him, Chuck ran to the manager's office. He ignored the dead man and just looked at his desktop computer. It had been destroyed by the same gunfire that had murdered its owner.
Another path closed. Chuck stood in the room as his mind worked as hard as it ever had. He closed his eyes and pictured everything he had seen in the last ten minutes. YES.
'Catch the witness, catch the wit, catch the spirit, catch the spit'
Chuck's eyes popped open and focused on the TV on the wall. Yes. "Casey, help me with this."
He went to the giant screen and unplugged it from the wall. He reached behind it and quickly unhooked it from the cable connection. He and Casey lifted and pulled. It had been screwed into a bracket and the plastic began to crack.
Casey said, "It's breaking."
"Not the parts I give a fuck about," said Chuck.
With a loud crack of plastic, the TV came off the wall. In their ears they heard Fitz say, "Building cleared. We're on our way up to you."
Chuck glanced at Sarah. The whole right side of her face was covered in blood.
"You're hurt," he said, lugging the heavy screen back to the rack room.
"We're all hurt, Chuck. Look at your hand," Chuck looked at his hand and saw blood dripping from it to the floor.
"Right. Problem for later, I guess."
'He gets right on to the friction of the day...'
They got the TV into the rack room and began to hook it up to cables at Chuck's urgent direction.
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White House Situation Room, Washington, DC, 21:54 UTC (13 minutes from shootdown)
POTUS said, startled, "What's he doing?"
DNI Malone said, "I have no idea, Sir. Want me to ask him?"
"No, John. Leave him be. Don't interrupt."
Over the communications net they heard Chuck say, quietly, "Yup, Linux."
At the far end of the Situation Room, one of the DNI's technical men said, maybe a little too loudly, "Motherfucker." He sounded awestruck.
The President looked up at the man and said, pointing, "You...yeah, come over here. Do you have any idea what he's doing?"
"Ummm... yeah, Sir. I think I might."
"Ok, what's your name?"
"I'm Frank, Sir. Frank Wallace."
"Ok, Frank. You're the narrator. You tell us what you think is happening here."
Frank was studying the screen as if he was seeing a unicorn for the first time, as if he couldn't quite believe his eyes. Chuck was muttering a bit to himself, meaningless nonsense to everyone listening...except Frank Wallace.
"Sir, that's a new smart TV. It has a CPU inside so you can program functions. A CPU is the brain of a computer."
"So, the TV is actually a computer?" asked the President, confused.
"Yes, Sir, sort of, but one that is limited to a very narrow set of functions, like watching movies or listening to music over the Internet. Carmichael has somehow accessed the root commands of the underlying operating system and is expanding those functions. Christ, he's re-writing the base code! He is effectively making it a much more robust system - much more like an actual computer." Frank pauses for a moment as he continues to watch the action on the screen and listen to Chuck's mutterings. "Until now, I sort of thought everything I'd heard about Carmichael was an exaggeration, but this is insane!" Frank looked across the table at the DNI, who was at least two or three tiers above his own boss, and asked, "Director Malone, how the hell did he even know this was possible?" From the blank expression he got in reply, he knew his curiosity was going to go unsatisfied.
"Why is this so unusual, Frank?" asked the President.
"Sir, that TV is brand new on the market and costs like ten grand or more. He obviously had prior knowledge about its core software, but how? I would have had no clue, sir, and I'm one of the senior tech guys at ODNI. This represents a whole area of tech research that we'll have to start looking into sooner than we thought. Smart TVs are on our radar but I had no idea they would have this kind of power in the hands of someone who understood them. We're definitely behind the curve on this one, Sir."
After watching for a few more moments, the President asks, "So you're saying you can't do what Carmichael is doing, Frank?"
"Oh, shit no, Sir. Five minutes ago, I wouldn't have believed it was possible."
The President looked at the DNI, who shrugged and nodded, as if to say 'I told you so.'
As they were listening in, Chuck said, "Sarah, can you put a tourniquet or something around my arm? The blood is getting onto the keyboard and my fingers are slipping."
POTUS murmured, "Damn, son."
He watched as the blonde woman with the bloody face began to cut away the man's sleeve.
"Damn," he said again, quietly.
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Demon's F-15, over the Pacific Ocean, 21:59 UTC (8 minutes from shootdown)
Demon ran through the procedure in her head.
Take the speed up to at least Mach 1, execute a zoom climb at about 4 gees to climb towards the target at about 65 degrees. When the missile signals a lock, release the missile and pull away, letting the missile do its thing from that point forward.
She checked her control panel and everything looked good.
Ok. Only another few minutes.
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Bakersfield, California, KPFG Studios, 22:02 UTC (5 minutes from shootdown)
Fitz and Billy had joined them in the room, watching Chuck and tending to the minor cuts Casey and Sarah had sustained from the grenade blast. No one was making much noise, for fear of distracting Chuck.
Chuck was working with frightening intensity and speed. He was talking to himself a little bit, but none of them could understand what he was saying.
'Modern day warrior, mean mean stride...'
Another few minutes passed and Chuck announced, "OK. I'm in. Annnnnnddd...launch sequence stopped. We're good." Chuck let out a long shaky breath. "Director Malone, you still here?"
"I'm here, Chuck. Great job. Great fucking job." It sounded like there was noise in the background.
"Thank you, Sir. Where do you want control of the satellite transferred to?"
"Transfer it to Offut. I'll get you the details."
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White House Situation Room, Washington, DC, 22:05 UTC (2 minutes from shootdown)
"OK. I'm in. Annnnnnddd...launch sequence stopped. We're good...Director Malone, You still here?"
On two continents, the most important men and women in two governments erupted in loud cheers, some jumping to their feet in their joy and relief.
As Malone answered Chuck, with a huge grin on his face the president said, "Bob, abort the knockdown."
His fist raised in the air in exuberance, the Secretary of Defense said, "Yes, Sir. Delighted to."
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Demon's F-15, over the Pacific Ocean, 22:06 UTC (1 minute from shootdown)
Demon lined up the nose of her aircraft with the flight path of the satellite and pressed the throttles forward. Her speed began to climb. She was approaching Mach 1 when she received a message. "Demon, this is Offut Command. Abort launch. Repeat. Abort launch. Return to base. Good job, Demon."
"Roger that, Offut. Launch aborted."
'What the hell was this about?' she wondered. If this was just another stupid exercise she was going to be pissed.
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White House Situation Room, Washington, DC, 22:09 UTC
POTUS watched the screen with surprise as the blonde woman wrapped the curly haired guy in a hug an gave him a clearly passionate kiss. He glanced at Malone who said, through his smile, "They're getting married in December, Sir."
The President nodded and smiled. He said, "Josh, call the Congress people we talked to and the candidates. Tell them this all worked out."
"Yes, Sir," said the Chief of Staff.
People around the Situation Room were still grinning from delight and relief. Both Graham and Beckman might have had tears in their eyes.
From Air Force Two, over a speaker, the VPOTUS said, "Great job."
From the other speaker phone Prime Minister Brown said, "Outstanding, George. Outstanding. Well done. Your people pulled it off."
"Thank you, Gordon. Thank God it worked."
"Brilliant," said Brown in reply.
Men and women came over to DNI Malone and slapped him on the back, congratulating him on the performance of the three spies who had saved the day. He was grinning and thanking the well-wishers. Beckman and Graham were similarly congratulated and beamed with pride.
The President shook his hand and said, "You were right, John. He is the best we have. The whole team, honestly. I need something from you, John."
"Of course, Sir."
"I want the complete files on all three of them...the unredacted files. On my desk asap, please. This …" he gestured at the screen, "...is something I need to understand."
"Yes, Sir."
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A/N3: Chuck rewriting the base code to use the smart TV as a computer. So cool. And, those of you who have been around me for a while, know exactly what I'm going to say now. Thank you, Steelejay. Again. You are truly the 'tech-whisperer.'
A/N4: This was fun to write. The ticking clock. Chuck's brilliance mixed with the deadly skills of Sarah and Casey. The good judgment of Fitz. Our heroes getting the job done. And now they have come to the President's attention. What do you guys think?