Scene XXVI – CIA Facility, Main Interrogation Room
Chuck and Sarah entered the main interrogation room. During their absence, somebody had wheeled a portable briefing station into the room: a monitor, a camera, and the hardware case that plugged into a cable outlet in the wall. Chuck idly wondered why he hadn't flashed on any of the conferencing equipment; he certainly seemed to flash on every other piece of hardware that the Department of Defense had.
Casey was talking quietly with General Beckman and Director Graham. Chuck noticed both of the directors looked a little less displeased than usual as the pair took positions alongside Casey.
Sarah greeted the officials, "General. Director. Sorry we're late."
General Beckman replied, "Agent Walker. Mr. Bartowski."
Chuck bristled a little bit at the juxtaposition; it served to remind him that he was still nothing but an asset in the eyes of the Department of Defense. However, he didn't have the energy to make a joke about it.
Director Graham said, "Agent Casey was just briefing us on some of yesterday's breakthroughs."
Sarah turned towards Casey, an enthusiastic expression on her face. "Really? What did you learn?"
Casey pointed, not-so-subtly, at Chuck. Sarah managed to hide most, but not all, of her surprise.
Director Graham said, "Mr. Bartowski, Agent Casey has told us some of what you learned, but we would like to hear it from you."
Chuck took a moment to gather his thoughts. Finally, he was able to claim some recognition for a job well done, but he was too tired to properly appreciate it. Figures.
He managed to organize his thoughts. "I was able to crack into Jeremy Cushman's computer yesterday using some CIA software. On this computer was the program that Cushman, or somebody else, apparently used to attack the CIA server."
"How can you be sure?"
"I was able to print out the code and show it to Cushman, who helped to verify how the code functions."
The general said, "I have to confess, Mr. Bartowski, I am curious: how is it that Cushman would talk to you, but not the other agents?"
Casey stepped in, "Sir, Chuck was able to get Cushman to talk by obtaining and offering a substance that the suspect was craving."
"I don't think I like the sound of that. What exactly did you give him?"
Shooting an irritated look at Casey, Chuck said, "I picked up several Red Bull drinks from the cafeteria. Cushman had a box full of empty Red Bull cans in his office; given his symptoms, the source of his withdrawal seemed fairly obvious. Exchanging something from a soda machine for some information seems pretty reasonable to me."
The general was appeased. Casey was not, especially when the general said, "It certainly is. You might remember that, Agents Casey and Walker."
Chuck stole a peek at Sarah, hoping for a little validation. She fixed her eyes on the screen, her posture rigid.
The general continued, "Good work, Intersect. Anything else?"
"Yes, General. The program was designed to install some type of program on a compromised server. That program, however, was on a thumb drive carried by the suspect who escaped the other night."
The general's face went blank. Mistaking her look for confusion, Chuck started to explain, "A thumb drive is…"
The general cut him off. "I know what a thumb drive is, Mr. Bartowski."
Chuck muttered to Casey, "Maybe she could pick up your next shift at the Buy More."
Casey growled in response.
The general continued, "However, that means that the third suspect is the key to all of this."
The director said, "Given the importance of the server that was attacked, this mission is of the highest priority."
Sarah finally had an opportunity to contribute. "Director, that's one thing that has been bothering me. What server was attacked?"
The Director looked at Casey and the general. "It's a highly classified, mission-critical CIA server. That's all I can say at this time."
Chuck knew what the server was from his flash the previous night. But the more he had thought about the flash, the more afraid he was to share what he had learned. He knew the architecture of their entire core computer network, as well as the purpose of each machine.
If the DOD couldn't find a way to get these secrets out of his head, this was a whole new level of secret. Sure, an enemy could extract files on particular agents or missions if they knew the right triggers. But agent files weren't as useful without the pictures, which only Chuck could see, so there was no way to extract them. Mission files would quickly grow stale; they were basically historical documentation.
However, the network infrastructure would likely stay in place for some time, and the purposes of some of the machines were downright frightening. What enemy agents could do if they could access that network...
Chuck swallowed hard. This was the type of secret that could get him killed.
Against everything he stood for, he stood there silently, trying to keep a straight face. Feeling his face slip, he covered it up by asking a question.
"Director?"
"Yes?"
"I did find an IP address of the last server that was attacked by the program. If I give you the address, can you at least verify that this was the CIA server that was attacked? If it isn't, we know Cushman didn't run the code."
The director's face turned deadly serious as he thought for a moment. "Yes, but not via the teleconference. Use Agent Walker's phone. Is there a private place you can communicate from?"
Chuck looked around. "How about an unused interrogation room?"
The director nodded. "That will work." The director wandered off the screen.
Sarah had already dialed the director on her phone; she handed the phone to Chuck with an absolutely blank expression.
Chuck slipped into the middle interrogation room as the phone rang. The director picked up just as Chuck shut the door behind him. Chuck quickly gave him the IP address. There was a pause at the other end, and the director said, "Yes, that's the server. Now forget you ever knew those numbers." Click.
The way the director spoke told Chuck in no uncertain terms that he was right not to reveal his flash. The director was uncomfortable with Chuck even knowing the IP address of the one server. How would he feel if he found out what Chuck really knew?
He walked out of the interrogation room with a pale face, handing the phone back to Sarah with a nod. He turned to nod to Casey as well.
The director re-appeared on the screen and whispered in the general's ear for a moment. The three waited for Graham to finish whatever he was saying. When the director finished, he pulled back, and the general nodded her agreement.
Director Graham said, "You have verified that Cushman's program was designed to break into a key CIA server. This is a federal crime, and given the evidence, we approve keeping the suspects incarcerated at the facility for an additional 48 hours."
The general said, "During that time, you must find a way to track down the third suspect, whether by convincing one of the suspects to give you information or by other means. Try to verify how they knew the IP address. If they cooperate, you may strike an appropriate deal. If they do not, make sure they understand the consequences." The pair signed off.
The moment the screen went blank, Sarah turned to Chuck, her eyes blazing. "Why the hell were you interrogating suspects?"
Scene XXVII – Office
Across town, another teleconference was going on. This one involved only a phone conversation over a secured line; neither participant wanted to know the identity of the other. Sure, there were moments of curiosity, but people had a way of dying once identities came into the open.
The third suspect that Team Chuck wanted so badly spoke into the speaker, a box hard-wired onto the phone line distorting his voice on the other end. "Cushman and Davis are still in custody at the CIA interrogation facility. They haven't moved off the third floor since we took up surveillance.
A similarly distorted voice responded, "I guess they are having trouble getting information out of the two. That's good."
The man ran his hand across his slicked-back hair nervously. "Won't they crack eventually?"
"So what. The important thing is that we get the rest of Cushman's code; we need access to that server. Any progress?"
"No. I've only got an old version of the code, and it's likely the version that triggered the internal alarms that caused the agents to storm their offices the other night."
"And your team can't finish it?"
"Please; Cushman is a genius. We need the new code he wrote."
"Or Cushman."
"Correct. Or Cushman."
"Keep up surveillance on the facility. If Cushman leaves for any reason, grab him. Otherwise, we may need to mount an operation to infiltrate the facility and seize the computer."
Scene XXVIII – CIA Facility, Interrogation Room #2
Sarah pushed Chuck into the interrogation room and slammed the door shut. Her face livid, she laid into Chuck again. "I thought I made it very clear that you were to work on the computers."
"You did, but…"
"Chuck, you even said last night that it only made sense. What was that, a line you were feeding me?"
"I was upset after you left yesterday. Casey asked why. I explained, and then he asked what my idea was. He thought it was a good one."
Chuck could almost hear Casey's grunt. Apparently, so could Sarah. She looked at the mirror, and then up at the corner of the room. The red light on the camera was lit.
Reaching under her skirt, she pulled out a small knife, and with a quick turn whipped it into the camera, producing a shower of sparks as her throw buried the knife up to the haft in the lens. Chuck let out a shocked cry as he realized what she had done.
Sarah glared as if she could see through the mirror to the monitoring desk, a vicious expression on her face. She turned the same expression back on Chuck.
Chuck asked, "Seriously, what was I supposed to do? You were basically out-of-commission. I had pulled everything I could off of Cushman's computer, and I needed help understanding his code. This guy is brilliant, Sarah. I could barely understand half of what he programmed."
Sarah rubbed her temples as she paced across the room. Chuck had forgotten that she probably had a vicious hangover.
"Chuck, you've developed a nasty habit or disobeying orders lately. And that's dangerous."
"How was what I did yesterday dangerous?"
"Maybe that particular case wasn't dangerous, but we need to have the right people perform the right tasks. Have we pulled the information from Davis' computer yet? Have we examined the two other servers? We need that information for the mission, and you're the only one on our team who can do that. Casey could have done the interrogation."
"What, Mr. Bad Cop walking back in there with a six-pack of Red Bull, playing buddy-buddy and asking technical questions about code? Tell me how that would have gone."
Sarah paused, clearly stumped. Her fatigue had clearly not been helped much by the few hours of inebriated sleep the previous night. He was suddenly reminded of how tired he was.
However, her fatigue didn't make her any less angry. She strode purposefully back towards Chuck. "The larger issue here is that you aren't following my orders, and that can be very dangerous."
"What about following Casey's orders?"
Sarah didn't stop walking until she was face-to-face with Chuck. "What: can't handle a woman giving you orders?"
That was clearly unfair, and very unlike Sarah. "Where did that come from? I have no problem with a woman in a position above me ... I mean, I have no problem with a woman on top of ... That just keeps coming out wrong."
"What the hell are you babbling about?"
Chuck gathered his thoughts as best he could with Sarah standing so close to him. "I have no problem with you giving me orders. But am I supposed to follow your orders unquestioningly, or is Casey allowed to give me orders, too? And what do I do when both of you give me conflicting orders?"
"This is different, Chuck. You went behind my back and asked Casey permission to do something that I specifically told you not to do."
"OK, number one, Casey brought it up, not me. Number two, you never told me not to do it, because you never listened to my idea in the first place."
"We're a team, Chuck. The three of us are a team. But we're not a team if you don't trust my orders."
"I do trust your orders. But is that supposed to make me your lapdog?"
"My what?!"
"Lapdog. I'm not just going to hop into your lap and lick your neck every time you … you know, I'm just going to stop speaking for a minute." Sarah's proximity, the leftover tension from the previous night, and his overall fatigue made it difficult to for him to focus. He started to get fairly bitter about the whole thing.
Sarah let out a frustrated growl, and turned to walk away. She kicked a chair so that it skidded into the far wall with a metallic clang.
Chuck was relieved to have her move away; it gave him a fighting chance to think straight. "Sarah, I just don't understand what the problem is. Yesterday, I spent most of the day working on the computers. Then, I had an idea that Casey liked, and it turned out to work. Overall, it seemed like our team had a pretty good day, but here I am getting chewed out. What am I missing?" He got angrier and angrier as he spoke.
"What you're missing is that you're not following orders, Chuck. Orders are orders. They are to be followed, not questioned."
"Really? So you say 'Jump,' and I ask, 'How high?' That type of thing?"
"Exactly that type of thing."
"That would make some sense if I were an agent. But as I'm so often reminded, I clearly am not."
"What, now this is about a title?"
"A title. A job description. A wage. Anything other than the volunteer work I do in my spare time which tends to be half my normal job, half car-sitter. And, oh, by the way, dodging the occasional hailstorm of bullets while hoping I'm not putting my sister and my friends in any danger."
"We all have our roles. I'm sorry if you're unhappy with yours at the present time, but we all have to do things we don't like to do."
Sarah continued, "Do you think Casey enjoyed flirting with Davis? He wasn't happy about it, but he shut up and did what he had to do. That's called being professional."
Chuck's back straightened; he locked eyes with Sarah. "So, that's what you want me to do. To shut up. Do what I have to do. Be professional." Chuck paused for a second as he thought about what she said. "Message received, sir."
"Chuck, that's not what I meant, and you know it."
The anger resurfaced. "Isn't it? All day yesterday you told me to shut up and follow orders. Just now, you were lecturing me about following orders without questioning them. Which part am I misunderstanding?"
Sarah locked up for a moment, her face tense. Chuck just stared her down while she flashed a dozen different emotions.
Chuck had had enough. "That's what I thought. Am I dismissed?"
He stormed out of the interrogation room without waiting for an answer. Casey was over by the monitoring desk, pretending to be looking through a sheaf of papers. Chuck knew he had been watching through the window. "Enjoy the show?" he asked rhetorically.
Walking towards the door without looking back, he didn't see Casey raise an eyebrow and a corner of his mouth in affirmation.
"I'm going to the Buy More."
Sarah came out of the interrogation room. "Chuck, stop. Do not go out that door."
Turning around, Chuck asked, "Is that an order? Besides, who's going to stop me?"
Casey offered, "My guess? The CIA agents walking the halls."
Chuck glanced down at his visitor's badge; that only further proved his point with Sarah as far as he was concerned. He directed a reproachful look at her.
With a tight expression on her face, she offered, "I'll walk you out."
"No, thanks. Casey can walk me out."
Without waiting for Casey, Chuck walked out into the hallway. Casey glanced over at Sarah before following.
Sarah stared after Chuck for a moment before angrily pulling out her phone. She dialed a number as she walked back into the interrogation room. "Maintenance? Agent Walker here. I need a repair crew down in Interrogation Suite 3-Bravo. There's a camera down." She hung up the phone without waiting for a response. She went to retrieve her knife.
Scene XXIX – Buy More
For once, Chuck was glad to be heading back to the Buy More. Things were much less complicated there. Or so he thought.
As he walked in through the front entrance, music was blaring loudly. After a moment, he recognized the song as Amy Winehouse's "Rehab". Staring disbelievingly down the center aisle, he saw most of the store staff gathered around the Nerd Herd desk. They were cheering on Morgan, who was standing on top of the Nerd Herd desk, lip synching and dancing to the music.
Decked out in his usual green Buy More polo with khakis, Morgan was currently shaking a single leg, Elvis-style, pretending to sing into a microphone. Playing to the crowd, he straightened his left arm, swinging his arm in a long arc, his index finger pointing to members of the audience. He repeated it with the opposite hand, leg still moving.
Chuck smelled a rat. He looked for some of the key characters in the store.
He quickly spotted Anna, standing inside the desk area looking slightly embarrassed in a ridiculously short black skirt with a blue top. She tugged on Morgan's pant leg; while he couldn't tell what she said, her expression suggested that she was pleading with him to stop. Instead, Morgan redoubled his efforts, emphasizing each dance move a little more sharply and playing to the crowd. When he started making pelvis thrusts accentuated by arm movements, Anna covered her eyes with her hand.
That made no sense: Morgan brushed off Anna's request to stop? Not likely. Chuck scanned the store a bit more. Jeff and Lester stood off to the side, laughing hysterically and occasionally pointing at one of Morgan's antics. Chuck's eyes narrowed. The two were enjoying Morgan's dance a little too much, hunched over laughing.
He had to put a stop to this. Walking up the center aisle, Chuck quickly found the stereo unit that was blasting the music and turned it off. The crowd groaned in disappointment. Morgan looked relieved.
Chuck walked up to the group; some stared back guiltily, some defiantly. He was about to address the group when a familiar voice bellowed at him from across the store. "Chuck!"
Chuck turned to see Big Mike storming across the floor. "Yes, Big Mike?"
"What the hell is going on out here?"
"Well, it seems like the Buy More crew decided to have a little pre-Grammy Award lip-synching competition. Or something." His tone made it clear that didn't approve; however, Big Mike didn't seem to notice.
Not looking at any of the other employees, he glared at Chuck as he said, "We've got customers to help and orders to fill; we don't have time for this horseplay. Do not let it happen again."
What?! "Big Mike, this wasn't my fault. I just got here."
Big Mike responded, "I didn't say it was your fault; I said I was blaming you. Don't let it happen again." He turned and walked back towards his office.
Jeff and Lester were beside themselves. Lester was laughing so hard that he actually had tears running down his cheeks.
Turning to the rest of the group, Chuck ordered, "Back to work."
The crowd made a collective noise that seemed noncommittal and disparaging at the same time. The group splintered, with people heading back to different parts of the store. Jeff and Lester, still fighting back a few residual chuckles, bee-lined to the home theater room, trying to beat a couple of the green shirts that obviously had the same idea they did.
Only Anna and Morgan remained, with Anna standing behind the desk and Morgan standing on top of the desk. Chuck helped Morgan down; Morgan said, "Thanks, buddy, I owe you one."
"That's OK; you already owe me several hundred, so what's one more. What was the Dance Fever routine all about?"
Morgan looked guiltily back at Anna. He nodded his head to the side, motioning for Chuck to lean over. When Chuck obliged, he whispered, "Jeff and Lester are blackmailing me."
Chuck leaned back so Morgan could see his disbelieved look. "Over what?"
Morgan directed an insistent expression at Chuck, nodding his head again to signal for him to lean back in. After Chuck complied, he whispered, "They have a prescription for a nicotine gum. It's the only thing that's helped me. Plus, they have the video game that Anna gave me for Christmas."
Chuck leaned back. He was amazed how Morgan could turn any molehill into a mountain.
Morgan practically begged, "Chuck, what do I do?"
A plan gradually came to Chuck. "Tell you what, Morgan. Ellie can probably get you something at the hospital to help with the cravings. And I'll figure out a way to deal with the rest."
"Ellie would do that?"
"Sure, Morgan, you're like family to her." He left off that Ellie probably considered Morgan to be the creepy cousin nobody liked to talk to at family reunions, as he didn't think that would really help things.
"Chuck, man, I cannot thank you enough."
Chuck felt better about things until he saw Anna's face. She looked ticked off; he wasn't sure exactly why, but she was clearly unhappy. "Morgan, can I have a word with you? In private?" Her words were deceptively sweet as she stared down Chuck.
Morgan said, "Sure thing, honey bun." The two walked towards the home theater room, with Morgan blissfully unaware of the tongue-lashing he would likely receive. Oh, well. Chuck couldn't fix everything. At least, not immediately.