Chuck vs. the Seventh Day, Chapter 12
CAST (in order of appearance):
General Diane Beckman - Bonita Fredericy
Sarah Walker Bartowski - Yvonne Strahovski
Captain Will Williamson - Alex O'Loughlin
President Boris Tadić - Mark Harmon
Chuck Bartowski - Zachary Levi
Lt. Colonel John Casey - Adam Baldwin
Abraham Fitzgerald - Ned Beatty
Lt. Commander Rachel Harrison - Zoe Saldana
Bryce Larkin - Matt Bomer
12:15 PM, Eastern Standard Time
February 17th, 2012
Fort Meade, Maryland
General Beckman strode into the conference room, a smile on her face and a purposeful gleam in her eyes. "Alright, people, tell me what we've got."
One aide stood. "Senator Langston Graham was apprehended at El Paso International Airport," he reported. "He claimed to be going to El Paso for a Congressional inspection of the Fort Bliss command facilities. Our man at Fort Bliss saw through that story, and has placed him into custody at the fort."
"Excellent," Beckman said. "What else?"
"CIA Agent Sarah Walker has been spotted in Belgrade," another aide reported. "Not even five minutes ago, one of our people happened to be at the airport and saw her disembarking from a Marine Corps F/A-18 Hornet. She and the pilot got into a car and drove away."
Beckman's smile got a little bigger. "Have our people in Belgrade put surveillance on the plane. When Walker comes back, they are to detain her."
She looked down the table. "Anything else?"
"Oh, I think you'll like this one, General," said yet another aide, rising to his feet. "About two hours ago, there was a report phoned in to the Louisa County, Virginia, sheriff's office. Apparently, there was a large amount of handgun fire in a twenty minute span, and it was heard on several properties in the surrounding area.
"A deputy was sent out to investigate. He was greeted at the door of the house by the property owner, an individual by the name of Abraham Fitzgerald."
That name set off a warning bell in Beckman's head. Why did that sound familiar?
"Our computers picked up on that because Abraham Fitzgerald is apparently a retired off-the-books NSA asset. His controller was John Casey."
And that's when Beckman remembered. A terrifying night in March of 2008. Abducted in her own car by Chuck Bartowski's sister Eleanor. Threatened at gunpoint by Sarah Walker. Dragged into this hillbilly's house by John Casey, and so terrorized that she blurted out the location where Bartowski was being held.
"Who was firing the guns?" Beckman demanded.
"There were two gentlemen in the barn, taking target practice on a makeshift target," the aide replied, a smug grin growing on his face. "They presented California driver's licenses in the names of Charles Carmichael and Casey Johnson. A quick search of the California DMV database gave us…"
He hit a button on the desk, and a large image popped up on the screen. "These two."
The faces of Chuck Bartowski and John Casey stared down at Beckman. "Well, well, well," Beckman said with a grin. "Get an NSA strike team moving. Right now. Tell them not to make any stupid mistakes like the one in California."
Her smile grew larger as she stared at the screen. "I got you now, boys!"
6:20 PM, Belgrade Time (12:20 PM EST)
Belgrade, Serbia
Captain Will Williamson, USMC, drove Sarah through the streets of Belgrade, bound for the National Assembly, where President Boris Tadić kept his offices. The drive alone brought memories back to her – long buried memories.
This was one mission that she HAD shared with Chuck. He had flashed on a newspaper article about the so-called "Phantom of Belgrade". Fearing that he would learn about it without her telling him, she told him all about the mission to take down eight rogue members of what was then Yugoslavia's government – men who wanted to turn the Balkans into the next Aryan state.
Sarah had feared an adverse reaction from Chuck. What she hadn't been expecting was for his jaw to drop, for him to say, "Cooool…" and then for him to tell her that he rather liked the fact that he was married to the female Bond.
She smiled as she remembered that little incident… and the fact that there had been a fair amount of, to put it politely, role-playing fun and games that had spawned from it. Her smile faded, though, as she thought about the fact that if her mission failed, then she and Chuck and their kids would spend the rest of their lives as international fugitives – if they survived.
As Sarah watched the National Assembly building grow in the windshield, she got into what Williamson called her "game mode". She mentally prepared herself for the task at hand, thought out exactly what she was going to say to Tadić, how she could convince him to help her with this task.
The game changed suddenly, though, when they reached the National Assembly, and Sarah saw what could only have been a crowd of reporters out front. "Hmmm," she murmured. "Time to change the game plan."
Williamson shook his head. "I don't know how you spooks do this kind of thing."
"Years and years of training and practice, Will," Sarah replied. "You have a notepad and a pen in your flight suit?"
"Of course I do," he replied. "Pilots never go anywhere without them."
He opened a Velcroed pocket, withdrew a small notepad and a pen, and handed them to Sarah. "Thank you," she said. "Do I look like I could pass as a reporter?"
"Not really," Williamson replied honestly. "But consider where we are – beautiful blue eyed, blonde haired woman in Belgrade with an American accent? You should have no problem getting whatever you want."
Sarah rolled her eyes. "Thanks, Will."
The car stopped across the street from the National Assembly, and Sarah jumped out. Running across the street, she joined the teeming throng of journalists – and sure enough, a moment later, Boris Tadić came walking out the front door.
"MR. PRESIDENT! MR. PRESIDENT!" The shouts sounded all around her, as journalists, desperate to get a quote on the never-ending situation in Kosovo, threw their entreaties at the President of Serbia.
Elbowing her way to the front of the crowd, Sarah waited patiently for the Serbian President to draw even with her. As he approached, she raised her voice and said, "Mr. President! I have information on the Phantom of Belgrade!"
That remark stopped him dead in his tracks. He looked her in the eyes, and pointed. "You. Come here."
The two security line keeping the reporters back parted to allow Sarah through. She jogged over to the President. A bodyguard patted her down, removing her Desert Eagle from her waistband and her throwing knives from her ankle. "A girl's gotta be careful, sir," she said when Tadić gave her an amused look.
"Take a ride with me," he said in accented but fluent English.
His bodyguard held the back door of the Presidential BMW limousine open. Tadić got in, followed by Sarah.
"So, tell me what you know about the Phantom of Belgrade," Tadić began. "My country owes him a great debt."
"I AM the Phantom of Belgrade," Sarah replied. "Agent Sarah Walker, Central Intelligence Agency."
"The CIA, eh?" Tadić replied, the look of amusement on his face growing. "And here all these years I thought it was the FSB. You know, they want another fascist Aryan state about as much as they want the Czars to come back."
Sarah nodded. "Nonetheless, it was me," she said. "I eliminated six of the Belgrade eight, and hired a third party to take care of two of them."
Tadić nodded. "So, we in Serbia owe you a great deal. May I assume you are here to, perhaps, collect?"
"I am," Sarah confirmed. "President Tadić, the President of the United States needs your help."
12:30 PM, Eastern Standard Time
Bumpass, Virginia
After funtime with guns and targets, Chuck and Casey had looked for something else to pass the time – and found it in a pair of fishing rods and two pairs of waders.
Casey had lamented the fact that he hadn't been fishing in years, and Chuck said he'd never gone at all. So Casey decided it was time for the Intersect to do a little fishing.
They had donned the waders and headed down to the creek at the end of Abraham's property. A little consultation with Abraham had revealed that the creek was home to more than a few trout – in fact, if they were going down to the creek, they could feel free to bring dinner back with them.
Chuck had struggled mightily at first. He couldn't figure out how to cast properly, and Casey was just beginning to feel sorry for him, when Chuck had a flash out of nowhere.
When he came out of it, Casey asked, "What the hell did you flash on in the middle of the Virginia countryside?"
"The fishing rod!" Chuck responded in disbelief. "I flashed on it, and now I know how to do this!"
And sure enough, he did a picture-perfect cast, his line reeling out and the bait dropping into the water.
"Un-friggin'-believable," Casey muttered.
They did this for about an hour, and between them, had caught about a half dozen trout, when they heard a bit of a ruckus from up toward the house. Casey heard two separate truck engines, followed by slamming doors.
A moment later, he heard shouting. It was indecipherable from this far away, but he could tell Abraham's voice from a few other men.
And then, there was an unquestionable sound – a gunshot sounded across the countryside.
Chuck and Casey both turned and looked at each other. "Out of the water. Right now!" Casey ordered quietly.
Both men stumbled out of the creek, shucking their waders as they went. Casey pulled his Glock from behind his back, and indicated that Chuck should do the same with Sarah's Colt.
Chuck held the gun nervously as he followed Casey along the creek bank. Then a new noise made both of them freeze.
It was somebody speaking over a bullhorn. "COLONEL CASEY!" the voice called. "MISTER BARTOWSKI! WE KNOW YOU'RE OUT THERE! SURRENDER NOW, OR WE WILL HUNT YOU DOWN!"
8:00 PM, Belgrade Time (2:00 PM EST)
Belgrade, Serbia
Sarah was quite pleased on the drive back to the airport. She now had four heads of state set to fly to Washington tomorrow, to appear with the President on Sunday, to release a joint statement praising the nuclear disarmament treaty. It might not stop Fulcrum from going ahead with the ECOMCON plan, but having the four national leaders there might at least give them pause.
However, when they pulled onto the grounds of Nikola Tesla International Airport, her heart skipped a beat. Williamson, not noticing anything, had turned and headed directly for the Hornet.
"Stop," she ordered him. He didn't say anything – just brought the car to a stop. "There's two black cars parked over by the Hornet, and a number of men in airport uniforms around it."
"They're probably just curious," Williamson replied. "After all, how often do you think they see an American fighter jet?"
"No," Sarah insisted. "Look closely at the men in the uniforms. See how their uniforms bulge around the chest? They're all wearing Kevlar vests."
"Shit," Williamson breathed. "Ramp workers I know don't wear Kevlar."
"No, they certainly don't," Sarah agreed. "Turn the car around – slowly, don't attract attention, and head to the other end of the airport. There's a section with disused aircraft over there – I think we can hide for a while."
Williamson did as Sarah instructed, and headed to the other end of the airport. Reaching the "junkyard", as he termed it, he pulled the old Toyota Camry in between two Piper Cubs that had seen better days.
Sarah got out of the Camry, and Williamson followed. She peeked out from between the aircraft, pointing her binoculars at the other end of the airport. "They're not leaving," she said.
Williamson ducked out as well – and something stopped him dead. "Look at that," he said.
"What?"
Captain Williamson grabbed Sarah's arm, and pointed. "That," he replied. "It's a Grumman C-2A Greyhound. US Navy aircraft, used for delivering items and people to aircraft carriers. It looks to be in pretty good shape, too – I bet there's a fair to middlin' chance we could fly it out of here."
Sarah looked at him. "You've flown one of those before?"
"Agent Walker, I'm rated in every type in the US Marine Corps and US Navy's inventory, helicopters included. If it's got a stick and an engine, I can fly it."
He looked at Sarah, completely seriously. She stared back at him for a moment, and then said, "Wow, you meant that seriously, with no double entendre. I'm impressed."
Williamson played back the comment in his mind, and his face fell. "Damn," he said. "I could've made that so dirty. I can't believe I missed that."
Sarah smiled. "Maybe next time."
And with that, she darted out from between the two Pipers, running across the tarmac to where the Greyhound sat. She reached up to the handle on the hatch, and pulled it open –
Sarah Walker came face to face with a rather well-formed, well-toned naked female behind bouncing up and down in a man's lap. There was really no question what was going on there.
Then she looked a little further upward, and saw the face connected to the lap. Her eyes widened as she recognized the face.
It was all Sarah could do not to laugh as she opened her mouth and said, "Hello, Bryce."
2:15 PM, Eastern Standard Time
Bumpass, Virginia
Chuck and Casey had managed to avoid the NSA strike team for a while by staying within the tree line, but then they heard the unmistakable sound of dogs barking. "In the creek," Casey ordered.
Chuck complied without so much as a word. The two men ran downstream, staying in the water to throw the dogs off of their scent.
But then the trees ended. The creek kept running on through a flat meadow. "There's no cover out there," Casey muttered.
"Yeah, but those men aren't too far behind us!" Chuck replied.
"Alright, stay low and keep going," Casey said.
The two men crouched as low as they could and still keep moving at a rapid rate. They moved along the creek, and seemed to be making progress –
And then Casey heard it. The distinctive whup-whup-whup of the two-blade rotor of a Huey helicopter.
"Shit," he breathed. He looked to the north, where the sound was coming from. Chuck looked up with him.
A UH-1H Huey was flying in, door gunners on both sides. It was accompanied by two AH-1W Huey Cobras, one on either side of it.
Chuck saw the helicopters, and his eyes widened.
"We are so screwed."