I know, I'm a few hours late (again) in posting the chapter, but a friend from out of town came and I had to spend time with him. This chapter was made a bit longer to compensate you for the wait. By the way, I don't know if Big Bear Lake building regs allow the kind of structure described below, but hey, it's AU and it works for the story, so please bear with me.
Also, it never gets old to repeat how much your comments help and say thank you for taking the time to leave them.
"Come on! Just pick up the damn phone!" Casey growled impatiently, pounding his huge paw against the steering wheel of the hulking Suburban in frustration. He'd taken the SUV instead of his beloved Crown Vic for this road trip, figuring the all-terrain capability might come in handy. When the call went to voicemail, he angrily stabbed at a button on the wheel and ended the call. "Try calling her," he brusquely told Cole.
The Scot obliged and took his cell phone out, dialing Sarah's number. "She's not picking up," he said eventually.
They couldn't know that both Chuck and Sarah had left their phones in their jackets, which they had left in the car during their stop. All the time Cole and Casey were trying to call them, they were having their breakfast and happily chatting completely unaware of the storm brewing around them.
In the meantime, Graham was going over the reports sent over by the LAPD and the prison. He noted the time other prisoners reported Delgado having gotten pretty agitated and tapped his pen thoughtfully on the desktop. Something didn't quite track. According to the reports, Delgado had been watching the news on TV when he suddenly went ballistic and returned to his cell, presumably to start implementing an escaped plan. A plan he'd probably hatched the moment he arrived at the prison. "What did he see that set him off?" Graham wondered. Fortunately, there was a comprehensive library of news broadcasts kept for reference by intelligence agencies. He ordered the copies of the broadcasts, specifically the segments about the Los Angeles area, sent to him and Beckman immediately. When they arrived shortly after, they settled down to watch them.
"There!" Graham exclaimed suddenly, pausing the video. "That's Sarah!"
"I see her," Beckman confirmed. "Is she working at a frozen yogurt shop?"
Graham picked up Casey's report and speed-read it. "It's mentioned in here, too," he said, handing the printouts to his NSA counterpart.
"After everything I've learned about her, I can't help but admire her. She built a new life from scratch."
"She's resilient and resourceful," he agreed. "So much in fact, that I'd once sent her on a mission even before she graduated from the Farm."
-o-
"Good thing you'd made a map with the directions to the cabins this Mr. Decker rents out," said Chuck. The Big Bear Lake shore was studded with cabins of all sizes and without a map they would have had to resort to asking around.
She hummed in agreement and concentrated on driving.
"I wonder if we're going to see any bears around," Chuck wondered aloud.
"Later," she said. "We're on serious business here, remember?"
"How can I forget? Anything having to do with the mystery that is you, has my complete and undivided attention."
She stopped at a stop sign and leaned over the center console to give him a quick kiss on the lips. "Play your cards right and we might come here on vacation some day, Mr. Bartowski."
"Oh, I like the way you think. Maybe we should rent a cabin from this Mr. Decker."
"Uh-huh. Where do I turn?"
"Keep going straight for now. I'll tell you when to turn."
-o-
Casey didn't bother calling Chuck and Sarah again. For all he knew, they were already in Decker's hands and he didn't want to tip him off. Instead, he drove as fast as he could without resorting to turning on the gumball and the siren the Suburban was equipped with.
"Are you packing?"
The sudden question after several minutes of silence took Cole by surprise, but he recovered quickly. "Yes," he replied. "I never go anywhere without my piece when I'm on the job."
"Good, because we may need to shoot some people," said Casey.
"I hope you don't mind me saying so, mate, but you look happy at the prospect of a gunfight."
Casey turned to look at his temporary partner. "If they're foolish enough to draw on us, they'll get what's coming to them. Besides, they broke the law and that's a big no-no in my book."
"Can't argue with that kind of logic, I suppose. Do you think we'll get there on time?"
"Maybe. I don't know. I sure hope so."
"Me too. I kind of like Ms. Walker… She's polite, pays on time… Her boyfriend is a nice guy as well."
"Truth be told, I haven't been around them long, but I understand why you like them. They're all good people." Casey had also read Sarah's service record and although he wasn't easy to impress, he'd had to admit that the young woman was a damn fine agent, of the kind everyone would want on their team.
-o-
Beckman was thinking about the day's events so far. What had initially appeared to be an attempt to exploit a potential weakness of someone involved in a highly secret project was rapidly turning out into something akin to what Hollywood could – and indeed had on occasion – come up with. Still, there were questions needing to be answered and she wanted said answers and fast. "Director," she began, cautiously. Among the things Graham was known for, his mercurial temper stood out. It was said that even the President was loath to get on the CIA Director's bad side.
Fortunately, he appeared more than a little preoccupied. "Yes, General?"
"I know you're concerned about your agent, and to tell you the truth I'm curious as to how she managed to survive the plane crash as well as a night in the ocean, but I need to know this: Have the Unit and Project Omaha been compromised in any way?"
"It's a long story," Graham replied wearily.
"We've got some time."
Graham nodded. "The Philippines operation was Sarah's first mission with the Unit," he said, referring to the dramatic rescue of a US Navy helicopter crew. An Islamist militant group in the Southern Philippines had sent out a fake distress call from a hijacked fishing boat, luring the helicopter sent from an American warship to help into an ambush, shooting it down and taking the crew hostage, threatening to behead them unless the Philippine government freed some of its members held in prison for acts of terrorism. The Unit had been inserted and successfully freed the hostages, both the helicopter's crew and the Filipino fishermen. "But before she joined the Unit, she took part in another operation," he continued.
"And this is where Decker comes in," Beckman deduced.
"Exactly," Graham confirmed. "He, along with Delgado and another agent had set up a nice little scam, trying to get rich and retire early. Sarah caught on to it after they tried to use her for their plan while on a legitimate mission in Hungary. She killed one of them, captured Delgado and handed him off to Internal Affairs. She must have been on Decker's trail when she was recalled and attached to the Unit. She's one of the best, so I had no compunctions about pulling her off what was essentially a cleanup and assigning her to a more important mission. With the clock running out, she wasn't even debriefed about her progress on finding Decker and any other associates of his. I was planning to debrief her personally when she returned, but then the plane crashed. As to how she survived, I hope one of the scientists who worked on the U Project can add his two cents. I've scheduled a videoconference with him."
Right then, a screen came alive and a man's voice with a distinctly British accent boomed from the speakers. "Langston, old chap, where's the fire?"
"Hartley," Graham greeted him. "You remember General Beckman, right?"
"Of course I do. How do you do, ma'am?"
"Very well, thank you," replied Beckman. "We have some questions regarding the U Project."
Hartley, who bore a remarkable resemblance to an actor who had starred in a couple of James Bond movies smiled, took off his lab coat and tossed out of view of the webcam, smiling as it presumably ended up hanging from a coat stand. "By all means, ask away."
"How is it possible for a Unit member to survive an entire night in the ocean?" Graham asked without preamble.
"We have another survivor?" Hartley asked, his curiosity piqued.
"Yes, and both the General and I are wondering how it was possible," said Graham.
"Isn't the Project beautiful?" Seeing the frowns on the two directors' faces, Hartley quickly explained: "As you know, part of the U Project was increasing the subjects' stamina and strength without any damage to their health. For the last mission, they were given a modified version of the Serum, which provided the same increase for their abilities, only it lasted longer and delayed the onset of the steep rise in body temperature compared to the previous versions. Of course, letting the subjects cool off in their pods was still necessary. Now, it's possible that your boy…"
"Girl," Graham interrupted Hartley. "It was a girl."
"Ah, I see. Well then, your girl's body temperature was still above normal when the plane crashed, so it protected her from hypothermia, while the water was cool enough to replace the pod in keeping her from suffering a massive heat stroke. As to how she got ashore, maybe she clung to a piece of flotsam or something. With favorable winds and currents, she could have made it to shore before the Serum wore off completely and she became vulnerable to hypothermia. I'd be interested to seeing her medical records, if available."
"I'll see what I can do," said Graham. "Thank you Hartley."
"You're most welcome, old boy. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have plans with my daughter. Langston, General, it was nice talking to you again."
"Thank you for your help, Dr. Winterbottom," said Beckman before the good doctor signed off with a friendly wave.
-o-
"Nice place," commented Chuck, seeing the lakefront property where a small cluster of cabins was located. The biggest one, right down by the lake, even had a combination boathouse and garage with an enclosed dock, according to a brochure he'd found in Sarah's computer.
"Well, we would have made it here sooner had someone not insisted that we take our time having breakfast."
"I was hungry!" Chuck protested vehemently. "And so were you," he reminded her.
"Whatever," she huffed. "Let's get this over and done with." She parked the car and they both got out, passing through an open gate and walking along the driveway towards the cabins. Although it wasn't yet as cold as it could get, the weather at the lake was different than Los Angeles and they zipped up their jackets to ward off the chill.
"Welcome to Lakeshore Cabins," a petite brunette sitting behind the reception desk greeted them. "I'm Lizzie. How may I help you?"
Sarah smiled warmly. "Hi," she said. "We don't have an appointment or a reservation, but I'd like to speak with Mr. Decker regarding a personal matter. My name is Sarah Walker."
"Please take a seat," she said, pointing to the comfortable chairs and couches arranged around coffee tables in the reception area. "I'll let him know you're here and when he'll be available."
"Thank you."
They sat down and immediately Chuck picked up an information pamphlet. "This is a very nice place," he told Sarah.
"You've never been here?"
"Just passing through," he admitted. "Back when I was working at the Buy More, a client wanted an install in his vacation home. Besides, I never had any reason to come here. My Dad owns a cabin near Bishop, so we prefer to use it."
A few minutes later, a tall, distinguished looking man in a grey suit descended the stairs and approached them when Lizzie the receptionist gave a nod in their direction.
"Ms. Walker?"
"You must be Mr. Decker, right?" Sarah asked, getting up and extending her hand. "Thank you for seeing us so quickly."
"Ms. Shafai said you are here for a personal matter and your name was vaguely familiar," said Decker.
"Yes. By the way, this is Mr. Charles Bartowski, my boyfriend."
"Nice to meet you," said Chuck politely.
"Likewise, Mr. Bartowski. So, what can I do for you?"
"To cut a very long story short, I had an accident and suffered memory loss," replied Sarah. "I only recently found out my true name and identity, plus I found correspondence with you from a few months back, around September to be precise. We decided to visit you and see if I had ever checked in. Something might help jog my memory."
"I see," said Decker, rubbing a hand over his chin. "Well, would you like to take a walk with me around the area?"
"Thank you, I'd appreciate it," Sarah said honestly. "Lead the way."
The stop Chuck and Sarah had taken along the way had allowed Casey and Cole to almost catch up with them. In fact, they arrived at the cabins just as Decker was coming down to greet the unexpected arrivals.
"Bugger," muttered Cole. "There she is."
"And she's with Decker," added Casey. "The man is on the CIA's wanted list."
"What are we going to do?"
"We tail them," replied Casey. "When we can grab him and get the others out without being noticed, we make our move."
The two made their way as stealthily as they could into the property, trying to keep Chuck, Sarah and Decker in sight. What they didn't know was that there were cameras hidden in the trees and they had been spotted. They'd barely covered fifty yards when they were surrounded by nine armed men, frisked and disarmed.
At the same time, Decker got a report of the events through an earpiece he was wearing. He could have killed both the man and the woman walking with him, asking him about the cabins and if she'd ever made a reservation there, but instead preferred to keep them alive and question them later. Also, although Sarah's story sounded convincing, he'd heard about her and her role in Ryker's death and Delgado's imprisonment. He excused himself, ostensibly to check something on his phone, let them walk ahead, pulled out an airgun and shot tranq darts into them. They collapsed on the ground unconscious.
-o-
Cold. It was cold. At least it felt that way to Sarah as she clawed her way back to full consciousness… which was strange, because she'd dressed adequately for the weather expected at the lake. Something else was wrong, too, namely an unfamiliar pressure to her wrists and ankles, a tightness. Also, her arms felt like they were supporting her entire weight. No, it definitely didn't feel right.
"Sleeping Beauty is waking up," said an unfamiliar voice. Her head snapped up towards the source of the sound even as she blinked trying to clear her vision. She saw Decker, grinning smugly at her. Next to him was another man, whom she did not recognize.
"What the…" she began as a shiver wracked her body. She looked down and then up, her jaw dropping in shock. She was wearing only her underwear and her camisole. Not only that, but she was bound to the vertical supports of a cradle suspended from an overhead gantry, that was used to lift boats out of the water inside a boathouse. "What's going on?"
"Maybe she was telling the truth," Decker told the other man. "Look at her. She doesn't even remember me." He was keeping his voice low, but the acoustics inside the boathouse allowed Sarah to hear every word.
The other man nodded. "Maybe," he said finally. "On the other hand, she's good. Just ask Ryker and Delgado."
"What do you suggest then, Shaw?"
"Question her, of course. Don't stop until you're satisfied she's telling the truth."
"What are you going to do?"
"Me? I'll just go check if our little project has been compromised in any way." With that, he left Decker alone with his prisoner.
"Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on here? If you are kidnapping us for ransom, I don't really have that much money. There are people who know I was coming to meet you, you know."
"I know, all right," Decker said flippantly. "They're in the other room. Now tell me, how much does Graham know?"
"Who the hell is this Graham?" Sarah shot back.
"Have it your way," said Decker, pressing a button on a control panel. An electric motor whirred and the cradle began to be lowered into the water. Sarah shivered again as first her feet and then the rest of her body was immersed in the frigid water of the lake. It almost made her want to scream, but she was completely submerged, so after the initial panic she tried to exhale slowly. Not much later, though, the cradle began its journey back up. The cold was far worse when she was completely out of the water. She coughed, sputtered and spat out a mouthful of water. "Wha-what d-do you want f-from m-m-m-me? I'm… I'm j-just tr-trying to find out wh-who I am," she managed to say through wildly chattering teeth.
"Graham is your boss."
"NO! My b-boss is Scooter! I work at an Orange Orange!" Sarah protested.
"Bullshit! You are an officer of the Central Intelligence Agency, an assassin for the US Government!"
"It… It can't be! I am a Harvard gr-graduate! I u-used to have my own bu-business!"
Decker just smiled coldly as he pressed the button again and the cradle began its journey downwards. The cycle of questioning and dunking was repeated a couple more times, until Sarah was shivering so violently she couldn't talk. Decker spoke into small portable radio. In less than a minute, two men entered, pushing a trussed-up Casey ahead of them.
"Mr. Casey!" Sarah exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"
"Ah, so you know each other. This makes things easier for me. Sarah, you either talk or he dies, slowly."
"But I told you, I don't fucking know anything!"
"Watch your language, missy!" He then turned to his men. "Throw him in, but make sure his head is above water. I want him to freeze slowly, not drown." To Sarah he said: "You have a chance to save him. Talk and you both live. Stay stubborn and he dies. His partner and your boyfriend will be next." Casey was soon up to his neck in the water. Decker's radio crackled to life and he listened to whatever the person at the other end had to say. "I'll leave you two alone to make your decisions. When I get back, one of you better talk."
"Is it true?" Sarah hissed at Casey the moment Decker and his goons left them alone. "Was he telling the truth when he said I am with the CIA?" She managed to keep from chattering as she asked the questions.
"Yes," replied Casey. "You are CIA and one of the best."
"No, it can't be."
"Yes it can. Listen carefully, Walker. I have a gun in my pants, right next to my prick. They didn't find it when they searched me, because no one is comfortable feeling up another guy's package. Try and free a hand and take it when they dunk you again."
She just looked at him as if he'd grown a second head.
"Dammit Walker, just try to get back to your old self!" Casey growled.
Just then, Decker reentered the boathouse. "Well? Are you two going to talk?"
"Fuck you!" Sarah spat. "I told you I don't remember anything!"
"Have it your way," said Decker, grinning coldly and pressed the button again.
Sarah was submerged again in seconds. And her captor was keeping her down for longer than before. She tried to fend off the onset of panic, but as she did, the floodgates opened and memories came rushing back: she remembered parts of her life, her career as an agent, saving the baby in Budapest, killing Ryker, the mission in the Philippines and its aftermath. Using her training, she twisted her right wrist around, until she managed to loosen the rope holding it to the cradle's suspension rod enough to free her hand. Without hesitation she plunged it inside the waistband of Casey's pants, until her fingers closed around a gun. She turned it around to grasp it by the grip as the cradle began to be raised again. When her head cleared the water, she let out the breath she'd been holding with a guttural, primal cry and leveled the gun at Decker.
He was so surprised he didn't react for a split second. It was enough for Sarah to pull the trigger twice, shooting out his kneecaps. He screamed in pain as he fell to the wooden deck of the boathouse.
"You fucked with the wrong person, you piece of shit," she growled as he tried to sit up. "Had you left me in peace, I'd have never known you were stringing me along. Now, I get to finish the job. Say hi to Ryker for me in Hell, you bastard." She pulled the trigger of the Glock 26 again, putting a bullet between Decker's eyes and painting the wall with his brains. She used three more rounds to shoot off the knots binding her ankles and left wrist, then quickly freed Casey before handing him his gun back, taking the dead man's sidearm for herself. All she wanted now was to find Chuck and get the hell out of there.