Scene LVI – CIA Facility, Main Interrogation Room
"Do you think they got them?" Cush asked nervously.
They sat around Cushman's computer, watching the log. The connection had been severed at 10:09; there was no attempt to re-establish the connection.
Chuck looked at the clock; it was now 10:21.
"Dunno," Chuck responded. "Depends where the cars were when they got the call."
Cush shook his head, second-guessing himself. "Maybe something in the dummy logs I wrote into the code tipped them off. Maybe I should have…"
Chuck cut him off, "Should have what? Been more creative with the logging in the twenty minutes you had?"
"Dunno. Something."
"It was your skill that gave us any shot in the first place. Anyone else would have been satisfied with removing the program from the archive." Chuck didn't add that, had that happened, Davis would likely be dead by now. Having some program to download might give the bad guys enough of a reason to keep Davis alive for a while longer. But it wouldn't do any good for Cush to think about that.
Cush was lost in thought, replaying what he had coded, step by step, line by line. Chuck decided to let him be. As Chuck got up, he put a comforting hand on Cush's shoulder, generating a forced smile before Cush went back to analyzing his work.
Chuck wandered aimlessly around the room for a few minutes. The silence became oppressive. He found himself checking the clock frequently, which only made the time pass slower. When he caught himself checking the clock for the second time in thirty seconds, he let out a resigned exhalation. He forced himself to sit at the center table, facing Cush.
To distract himself, he started to think about what would happen to Cush when all was said and done. The guy had attacked a CIA server, but seemingly had no idea about the purpose of that server. The latter part could be his saving grace. Still, Chuck had no idea what Director Graham would decide to do with him.
The real shame of it all is that Cush had real talent, but there was a good chance that any deal he struck could force him never to work in his profession again. That would truly be a loss.
He looked over at the two bored agents guarding the door, as much there to keep Chuck and Cush in the room as to keep anyone else out. The CIA's priorities seemed pretty messed up at times; he only hoped that tendency wouldn't come to haunt Cush in some way.
Cush was still working over his code; Chuck decided Cush had obsessed long enough. Chuck walked back over to his chair, and plopped down.
"So, what do you do with your spare time?"
Cush looked a bit sheepish. "Work on computers. Read about computers. Play with computers."
"C'mon, nothing else?"
"Well, I play a few games."
"Really? Ever play Call of Duty?"
Cush put on a falsely modest expression. "I've been known to dabble."
Chuck grinned. The two began an animated discussion that started with Call of Duty and quickly wandered to a various other subjects. Soon, Cush and Chuck were facing each other in their chairs, the quiet console on his screen not longer distracting either of them.
Scene LVII – CIA Facility, Main Interrogation Room
Chuck and Cush were sharing a laugh when a knock came at the door. One of the agents called over, then signaled the pair to remain quiet. Flanking the door, hand on holster, the other agent challenged the person in the hallway. Apparently the answer the other person gave was correct; the agent relaxed and opened the door.
In strolled Sarah; Chuck didn't need to ask whether they had caught the suspects. While her face might have fooled somebody who didn't know her, Chuck could read her disappointment as she quietly gave some instructions to the two agents. He relayed the thought to Cush, who looked down despondently at the news.
Finished handing out orders, Sarah walked towards the pair. As she crossed the room, her expression shifted into her more usual demeanor; she was actually smiling by the time she addressed them.
"Sorry, guys, but there wasn't anyone at the coffee shop. Jeremy, are you certain you had the location right?"
Cush gave a nod. "Yep. I triple-checked the results."
"Unless they log back in for some reason, that's now probably a dead end. Keep your tracer application running just in case."
"So what happens next?" he asked.
Sarah gave him an understanding smile. "We're not sure, but we have a couple of ideas. Best thing for you right now is try to get some sleep."
Cush nodded again. "Maybe you're right."
Sarah added, "I've arranged to have you stay in nicer quarters tonight. You'll understand if we have to keep you locked up for another night; it's for your own protection as much as anything."
Cush clearly wasn't convinced. He looked over at Chuck for validation.
All things considered, it was probably the best offer Cush was going to get. "It's probably best for tonight," Chuck affirmed.
Cush was clearly more reassured after Chuck's assessment. "OK, Chuck."
Sarah said, "Agents Norris and Tomlinson will show you to your quarters." The two agents who had guarded the room stood a few steps behind Sarah, patiently waiting.
"Well, good night, Chuck."
"Good night, Cush."
The agent escorted Cush out of the room, but not before Cush shot Chuck one last big grin before walking out the door.
Chuck couldn't have stopped his answering smile if he wanted to. The door shut.
The two started walking towards the table. Sarah noted, "Wow, you two really hit it off."
"Yeah, he's a good guy. Kind of reminds me of me: caught up in things a bit beyond his control."
"Well, keep in mind that agents will play that card. Remember Laslo?"
"All too well. Point taken."
"Don't get me wrong; I think you're right about Jeremy. I'm not entirely sold on Davis yet, but I think your assessment of Cushman is pretty accurate." She paused for a moment. "You know, it's really impressive how you got him to trust you so quickly."
"Ah, it's nothing. As you said, we hit it off."
"It's not 'nothing', Chuck. Here the guy is in a CIA detention facility. Both Casey and I come in and ride him really hard, and he doesn't budge. He had good reason not to trust anyone coming through that door, but you're still a trusted friend inside three hours. That's impressive."
"I guess I don't see it that way."
"I do. So, what's your secret?"
"Well, see, my college roommate turned out to be rogue CIA, and he…"
She took a mock swipe at him, trying to control her grin. "Not that. Seriously, how'd you build up trust like that?"
"I don't know. I guess we just talked, and what was important to him was important to me, and we just bonded."
"You make it sound so easy."
"Well, in a way, maybe it is." He leaned forward in his chair. "I guess I believe that, at the end of the day, you should look out for what's important to other people. If you understand that, you know how to treat them well, and it will come back to benefit you. Sure, some people may take advantage, but many more won't."
Sarah mused over what Chuck was saying. He wondered about her interest.
After a moment, he asked, "So, what's going to happen to Cushman?"
She shook her head apologetically. "I don't know. That's above my pay grade."
"Any guesses?"
"Well, it may depend upon what's on that server. Director Graham is acting pretty … protective of it. If it's something serious…" She trailed off.
"What? If it's something serious, what?"
"Chuck, I won't lie: he could be in for a bad time of it."
The color faded from Chuck's face. "How bad a time?"
"Look, let's not worry about that now. We need to figure out what's next."
He couldn't help himself; he had to know about Cush's likely fate. "Sarah, that server? It is really serious stuff."
Sarah eyed him suspiciously. "How do you know that?"
Chuck was torn. He trusted Sarah, but if he told her, she would be obligated to report it in or lie to cover it up. Either outcome was bad. Unfortunately, Sarah was sharp enough that there was no going back.
"Chuck, how do you know that?"
He couldn't look her in the eyes. "I had a flash."
"What?! When?"
"The other night, while you were asleep in my room. Look, it didn't impact the mission, and I probably couldn't tell you the details anyway because you wouldn't have the clearance…"
"That's not the point. We have to report every flash you have. We're still trying to understand how your flashes are triggered."
"This flash is dangerous, Sarah. Graham didn't even want me to know the IP address of the server." He hesitated, knowing he had to trust her. "And I flashed on the entire core CIA network."
Sarah absorbed what he was telling her, carefully keeping a neutral expression. Finally, she shook her head. "It doesn't matter. We have to tell Graham."
Chuck took a moment to choose his words carefully. In a quiet tone, he said, "You just sat here and told me how bad it would be if Cushman only knows the one server. I know all of them. What would that mean for me if Graham ever found out?"
"It's different with you, Chuck."
"How? I'm not an agent. Neither Graham nor Beckman has any reason to protect me. What happens when they decide I'm more of a threat as a security risk?"
She leaned over and placed a hand on top of his. "That won't happen. Sure, you may not be an agent, but you've done your country a tremendous service. Look at what you've done in the past four months: saved a UN general, captured an elusive arms dealer, foiled a Fulcrum operation…"
"Well, you two were key components of all of those as well, and I saw how your superiors treated you two when one mission started to go badly."
She looked him directly in the eyes. "I understand your concern. I really do. You'll just have to trust me, Chuck. I'll look after you."
Once again, those magic words escaped her lips. The necklace around her neck winked back at him as it dangled from her neck, catching the overhead lights as it rocked back and forth. A quiet voice in the back of his mind suggested that blindly trusting her time after time was eventually going to lead him into trouble, but he pushed the voice aside. In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought.
He took a deep breath. "OK, Sarah. Do whatever you think is best."
She directed a dazzling smile at him. "You're doing the right thing."
There was a knock at the door. Before Chuck had even registered what the noise was, Sarah was on her feet, gun in hand.
Scene LVIII – CIA Facility, Main Interrogation Room
Sarah put a finger to her lips. Chuck was puzzled; she was certainly being cautious, considering they were in the middle of a CIA facility. She signaled for Chuck to take cover behind the center table. Chuck crouched down behind the table, wondering what good that would do if a bad guy were knocking at the door.
She took a position opposite the door, gun drawn. "Favorite fruit?" she asked. Quietly, she slid to the right, worried that she might be targeted by her voice.
"Purple apples in springtime," came the countersign.
Sarah was obviously still suspicious, but she slid to the door and jerked it open. One of the guards from the front desk stood there holding a large cardboard box. Seeing her gun, he asked, "A little jumpy, are we?" He handed her a clipboard to sign for the box.
"Can't be too careful. We weren't expecting anyone," she responded, not looking up until she finished checking the form. She handed the clipboard back to the guy. "Could you bring the box over to the table?"
Chuck stood up as the guard brought the box into the room. The guard gave him an amused look as he crossed the room, having seen him emerge from his cover. "I guess chivalry is dead."
His words rankled Chuck, but he tried to laugh it off. "Better chivalry than me, I guess." He felt worse when he realized how cowardly that made him sound.
The guard shook his head as he slid aside a few items so he could set the box on the corner of the table. With a last contemptuous glance, the guard made his way out of the room as Sarah made her way over to the table. She didn't seem to notice the guard's attitude.
Chuck sighed, then cursed as he broke his resolution yet again. The male versus female dynamic of the situation didn't bother him, but he had to admit he felt like a coward because he spent so much of their missions staying out of the way. He said as much to Sarah, who was pulling open the box to take a look inside.
Sarah was clearly distracted by the contents of the cardboard carton, but replied, "People don't understand your situation. They can't. There's no reason to take it personally."
"Yeah, well, I'm not sure my skin is that thick."
Stepping around the table, Sarah began to rearrange some of the stacks of papers to make more room. "Help me clean off the table. We may need some room."
Chuck obliged, walking to the other side and starting to stack the notebooks and file folders. He couldn't get the security guard's disdain out of his head.
Interrupting his thoughts, Sarah asked, "How was your aikido class?"
He looked up, a guilty expression on his face. His pause told her plenty.
She said, "What, you didn't think Casey would tell me?" In the middle of her words, she shot him a quick glance. There was no mocking in her voice or her expression.
"You're not upset?"
Sarah shook her head. "It's admirable to want to be better at all aspects of your job. I'm just not sure it's the best use of your time."
"What do you mean?"
She dropped a heavy stack of papers onto another shorter stack at her corner of the table, and stopped organizing to marshal her thoughts. "Well, consider me. I'm not the best in the world with technology, but I could contribute better to missions like this one if I knew a lot more about computers. Say I dropped everything and started studying. How long do you think it would take for me to catch up to you?"
"A while," he admitted.
"Exactly. But I don't need to do that, because I have people like you working with me. Others fill that role."
Chuck considered what she had said, and found a flaw. "There is a difference. Your lack of computer knowledge won't get you killed in a fight."
"Maybe not, but that's why you have me. And Casey. And Agent Phillips, and Agent Norris, and the rest of the CIA. A big part of our role is to keep you safe. And if we can't do that, odds are good that what you learn in your class isn't going to be the difference."
Again, Chuck took a moment to consider her words. "So, are you saying you don't think I should go?"
"Not at all. Go if you enjoy the class. Go if it makes you feel more confident about yourself. But you shouldn't go because you feel you aren't contributing. And you certainly shouldn't go because you're embarrassed by staying out of the fighting. That's almost always going to be the right tactical decision, and that's what matters."
Chuck was silent for a long moment, gazing down at the table. What she said made too much sense, but his ego still struggled to accept it.
Sarah gave him a kind smile. "C'mon; this box has everything the cleaning crew found at the Grand Avenue office. Let's see if there's anything useful."
The smile helped; Chuck followed her over to the monitoring desk.
Sarah opened one of the bottom drawers, and pulled out four surgeon's gloves, handing two of them to Chuck. He raised an eyebrow as he snapped a glove onto one hand. "Dare I wonder why you have these in an interrogation room?" He extended two gloved fingers, managing to be outrageous, suggestive, and a little bit disgusting all at the same time.
Sarah fought to stay professional, but failed. She giggled despite herself. Chuck grinned; Sarah didn't giggle very often, but it was music to his ears.
As she walked back to the table, he snapped the other glove into place. "Excuse me, ma'am. Airport security." She turned to give him a semi-serious glance that said 'stay away from me'.
The two arrived back at the table. Sarah started pulling items from box and handing them to Chuck. The first few items were miscellaneous office supplies: a few pens, a stapler, some various sized paper clips, among other things. Sarah had Chuck group them together towards the edge of the table Chuck had cleared off; these were the low priority items, ones that might yield fingerprints but were otherwise of little use.
Next came several stacks of neatly printed stationery, with varying amounts in each stack. Stationery in the first stack carried the name "ThirdWay InfoTech", with the "third" in a standard blue font and the "way" in an italicized green font, leaning forward to connote motion. The second stack used "Draaipunt Shipping" in the header, with some words in a foreign language along the bottom edge – German? No; from the name, it was probably Dutch. The third stack had a comparatively plain layout for "Quality Construction".
"Huh," Chuck uttered. "All three share the address of the office we raided."
Sarah continued to sort through the box. "Yep, looks like ThirdWay and the others were just cover companies. This whole thing goes deeper than we ever thought."
Chuck set down the third stack next to the other two. He looked back and forth between the logos on the stationery, and developed a strange sensation: it was like he wanted to flash, but couldn't.
Puzzled, he stepped back for a moment to clear his head, and went back to look at the stationery again. ThirdWay. Draaipunt. Quality. The same sensation filled him; he couldn't quite flash.
"Everything OK?" Sarah asked.
"I'm not sure. Give me a second."
Chuck picked up a piece of each type of stationery, and stacked them. He fanned them out vertically, so he could see all three of the logos at the same time.
The flash came, but slowly.
A picture of a palm tree on a water-covered island.
A six-figure wire transfer, directed from ThirdWay InfoTech to Draaipunt Shipping.
A memo on the Draaipunt stationery, in Dutch. "Port of Los Angeles" and a berth was mentioned, in English, towards the bottom. Invoice # 96233548.
A receipt for delivery of invoice 96233548 to the Port of Los Angeles.
A routing slip for transportation of cargo to Quality Construction, 729 Lairport Street, in El Segundo.
A picture of the palm tree.
Chuck eyes refocused; he gasped. Wow, that one hurt.
He tried to lift his hands to his pulsing temples; only then did he realize that Sarah's hands were wrapped around one arm, helping to steady him. He looked over to see her concerned expression. She asked, "Are you all right?"
Chuck let her help guide him to a nearby chair. "I think so. That was a weird one."
"It certainly was a long one. You flashed for over a minute."
Chuck glanced at her disbelievingly. "Really?"
She knelt down next to the chair. "Was there anything else different about that flash?"
Chuck tried to remember what he could about the flash; the pain had receded to a dull ache. "Yeah," he paused. "I think I flashed on the names of all three companies."
"That is different. What do you think it means?"
He tried to think of himself not as a person, but as a computer. An analogy came to him, "At first, it was like my mind wanted to flash, but couldn't. Kind of like when you want to sneeze, but it just won't happen."
"Then, I put the three names together … and it's like I searched on a compound index."
"Sorry, you lost me."
He leaned forward slightly as he explained. "Before, when I flashed, I would flash on one visual cue or one name, and that would lead me to an encoded imagee. This time, maybe there were multiple pictures out there, but I couldn't pick one until I used all three names to narrow it down to one."
Sarah took a minute to wrap her head around that. "So, there may be more intel on these front companies in there, but you can't get at it yet?"
"Dunno. That's just a guess." He thought for a moment. "Another possibility is that there wasn't a strong enough trigger with just one name, but with all three I could access the image."
A shocking thought occurred to him. "It's possible I needed more than one trigger because my memory of the Intersect images is starting to fade." He wasn't sure whether his expression was horrified or hopeful. Maybe it was both.
Scene LIX – CIA Facility, Main Interrogation Room
Chuck stared helplessly at Sarah. At the beginning of all of this, his fondest hope had been for the images to somehow vanish from his mind. But as time had gone on, more and more he didn't want the images to go away. If the images went away, Sarah would go away as well. And now that he was slowly regaining hope that something might happen…
Sarah immediately assumed the calming smile she always did when he was freaking out. From her kneeling position, she took his hand in hers, although the gloves stole away any true intimacy. At least she wouldn't feel the sweat on his palms of his hands.
She said, "There's no reason to worry. It's just as likely that this is something good as something bad; we'll figure it out."
As always, the way she spoke helped to calm him down, especially since there was an unspoken 'together' at the end of what she said. Still, he couldn't banish the gnawing pangs of worry in the pit of his stomach.
She changed gears. "What was in the flash, Chuck? Anything that can help us?"
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus. "ThirdWay purchased shipping services from Draaipunt. I couldn't read the shipping manifest; it was in Dutch, but whatever was shipped was sent to L.A. Once here, it was transported by the docking authority to 729 Lairport Street in El Segundo."
Sarah's face lit up. "Chuck, that's gotta be them. El Segundo is just a few miles from Playa Del Rey, but far enough away that they wouldn't tip off their location by using the Internet at the coffee shop. They were being careful, but not too careful."
She practically leapt to her feet, pulling her cell phone out and dialing a programmed number. She flashed him a huge grin before turning and walking across the room. "Walker here. I need Agents Phillips and Norris outside with a surveillance unit inside fifteen minutes. I also need any intel you can give me on 729 Lairport Street in El Segundo, as well as the area around it in a three-block radius. Walker out."
By the time she had hung up, she was already by the exit. "Finish going through the box; see if you can trigger any other flashes. If there's nothing else, call the front desk to have an agent escort you out. I'll leave word. Oh, and don't answer the door. Anyone who should be here will have a key."
Chuck felt like he was a babysitter being given instructions by a parent.
She grabbed hold of the door handle. "I feel like I've been saying this a lot lately, but nice work, Chuck." She smiled. Chuck barely had time to return the smile as she pulled the door open and left the room. He heard the lock turn after the door was closed.
"Wow, that happened fast."
Chuck stood up slowly, testing out his head. He was definitely feeling better, but he could really use some aspirin and some water. Unfortunately, he didn't think the front desk guards would take too kindly to delivering room service.
He spent the next half hour going through the box. It was mostly office supplies; there were a few business cards from other companies, likely ones the various front companies interacted with. He didn't flash on any of the names on the cards.
He organized things as best he could on the table, then pulled out his iPhone to call the front desk. The screen was blank.
"What the …?"
He tried turning the phone on, but it only came up far enough to tell him that his battery was dead before shutting itself off.
Chuck looked around the room in horror. There were no other phones; even if there were, he doubted if he could remember the number he needed to call.
All he wanted to do was to crawl into bed … and unless Sarah came back, that wasn't happening.
Scene LX – Casey's apartment
Casey's apartment was filled with the sound of Sinatra. Some times, you just needed to hear from the Chairman of the Board.
It happened in Monterrey
A long time ago
I met her in Monterrey
In old Mexico…
Sinatra likely would have approved of the neat scotch Casey was drinking. He wasn't heading towards getting soused, but a glass or two took some of the sting out of the day.
Plopping down in his leather chair, Casey enjoyed one of the few comforts in his surveillance pad while savoring the big band backing up Sinatra's mellow voice. He voiced a contented sigh; that contentment was short-lived as he forced himself to assess the status of his assignment.
He thought he was being clever by laying the groundwork for the inevitable order that Chuck was to be terminated. Some of that was working, and working well.
Keeping Sarah a little off-balance was ridiculously easy: she was overprotective of Chuck to a fault, especially since she'd started bottling up her feelings for him. Those buttons were easy to push.
But tonight had certainly backfired. He was eager to get to the scene before Sarah was because the first agent there would likely make the capture, and that meant getting the credit in the eyes of their superiors. If Sarah got that credit and Casey were taken down a notch, things might be more difficult later if Casey needed the superiors to overrule one of Sarah's opinions. Any little edge could make the difference, and he was determined to have every edge he could get when the time came.
He had to admit that he didn't relish the idea of going head-to-head with Agent Walker. She was a capable opponent, getting the upper hand in the only combat the two had against each other. Of course, he had underestimated her at the time; he wouldn't make that mistake again. Since then she had proven to be a more than capable partner as well.
Casey never thought he'd enjoy working with a skirt, especially a CIA skirt. He could see why her agency considered her among their best agents; even Casey typically had trouble discerning any flaws with her performance. About the only chink in her armor seemed to be her inexplicable attraction to Chuck.
The guy was nice enough. Casey would even admit that he'd like to believe more of the schlubs he protected in the line of duty were like Chuck. And had somebody told him three months ago that the scrawny computer geek would have contributed at all, let alone display the stones to make a real difference, Casey would have laughed until his ribs ached. But for somebody like Walker to be attracted to him?
Best he could figure, Sarah was just used to being around a certain type of man: ego-driven, self-involved, and all-consumed with their jobs. From that perspective, maybe her attraction was based upon a grass-is-greener view of characteristics like innocence and honesty, along with a longing for a "normal" life. Or maybe he was right and it was just Bryce Larkin all over again: mistaking a partner relationship for something more.
Either way, it was a mystery; one he didn't particularly need, or want, to solve.
What he really wanted was another shot at the greaser who nailed him with the head butt and the green-eyed goon who got away with pointing a gun at his head. He had scores to settle with both of them.
He allowed himself a few moments envisioning how a repeat meeting might go with the two of them. However, as time passed, he realized he was still dodging the real issue he needed to face: the irrational accusations he had hurled at Sarah earlier that night. He had lost control, something he had promised himself he would never do again.
People had a way of developing reputations in the small pools within the intelligence community. Casey was perfectly aware of his: a burnout, a loose cannon, and a cold-blooded killer.
The last he accepted with pride. Killing was a perfectly valid and useful skill in their line of work, and he was one of the best. Nobody debated that.
What people would debate is how good an agent he is. Certainly, nobody in the NSA wanted to be his partner because of his record with previous partners.
When Beckman had permanently assigned him to the Chuck detail, he had to wonder if part of her motivation was to put him in a situation where his other skills would take on more importance. That would give her a chance to evaluate Casey's continued employment with the agency.
In Casey's situation, that took on particular importance. Cold school killers weren't put out to pasture. They were shot behind the barn. That way, they couldn't hurt anyone else.
Ol' Blue Eyes seemed to be in rare form tonight. Casey took another sip of scotch, and tried to figure out when things got so complicated.