Scene LXV – El Segundo, Maple Avenue, Surveillance Van
Sarah waited impatiently inside the van. She was taking a bit of a chance calling in Casey, as it delayed the attack on the facility. However, something Chuck had said last night had stuck with her: If you look out for what's important to other people and try to treat them well, it will come back to benefit you.
After the way Casey treated her outside the coffee shop, she certainly didn't owe Casey anything. Heck, it was almost expected for an agent to pad his resume by grabbing glory when offered the opportunity. But she had promised herself she would do all she could to protect Chuck, and if that meant becoming a better partner with Casey, so be it.
"C'mon, Casey," she muttered under her breath. Agents Norris and Phillips were chafing at the bit to begin the attack; she wouldn't be able to hold them off much longer.
The Herder screeched to a halt behind the van. Looking out the window, she saw Casey jump out of Herder and sprint up to the van. He noticeably relaxed when he saw the agents inside, and pulled the door open.
The open door afforded Sarah a full view of Chuck awkwardly spilling out of the passenger door onto his knees, subsequently bending over to kiss the ground. She wasn't sure if he was being completely sarcastic or not, but either way it made her smile. Chuck managed to keep his sense of humor intact in most situations, which was pretty impressive given some of the situations he had been thrown into recently.
Sarah noticed that Casey hadn't changed out of his Buy More uniform. "Um, Casey?"
"I know, I know. We took Chuck's car into work, and I didn't have a change of clothes with me."
Her mind worked quickly. "Well, if we can't get rid of your Buy More clothes…"
Scene LXVI – El Segundo, 729 Lairport Street, Warehouse, Front Room
Aldo Jimenez thumbed through a dog-eared copy of El Mundo, a newspaper from his native city of Caracas. Even though it was a week old, he had been stationed in Los Angeles for so long that any taste of home was a good thing.
A tone indicated that a sensor picked up on somebody approaching the area near the front entrance. He lowered the paper to watch the door, his eyes flickering down to ensure his gun sat within reach in its cubby on the desk. Pedestrians were rare on this street, so he was relatively alert when the man in the green Buy More shirt walked in carrying a clipboard. Jimenez set the paper down, leaning forward so that his hand was near the gun.
"Excuse me," the imposing man offered. "I'm looking for 733 Lairport Street."
Aldo's hand relaxed. It was just a drone from one of the ubiquitous big box stores littering Los Angeles. In a fairly thick accent, Aldo replied, "Sorry. This is 729."
The man gave a rueful smile as he checked the clipboard again. "And the place up the street is 745. Some jerk has been phoning in false assignments all week."
Aldo really didn't care about the sob story. What he did care about was the man's eyes flickered up and left, and then up and right, as if scanning the room. His eyes widened.
The front of the clipboard raised up, and the last thing he saw was the gun the man had hidden there.
Casey's second shot took out the camera mounted in the back right corner of the room; the only noise was the sound of air hissing through the silencer. He yanked the rolling office chair with the body into the back left corner; this allowed him to cover the two interior doors to the room. He figured they had less than thirty seconds before somebody truly panicked that the camera was out. "Secure," he whispered into the mic.
"Still clear," Chuck's voice came through his ear piece; he was monitoring the outside of the building from the safety of the van.
The tone sounded three times. Within ten seconds, the other three agents rushed through the front door, taking standard positions to defend the two doors. The three were wearing relatively dark but casual clothes; Casey definitely stood out in his Buy More gear.
Sarah assessed the situation, then started giving hand signals to the other agents. Casey had gladly ceded command to Sarah on this one. Not only did she have a better knowledge of the reconnaissance on the facility, but he knew he would be distracted by a flash of bright green eyes or a glimpse of slicked-back black hair.
By Sarah's command, Agent Phillips assumed Casey's position; he was to stay and defend this room for the time being. Casey slid over towards the door on the back wall. Sarah gave a silent count, and then yanked the door open quickly. Casey scanned right with his gun, then center, while Sarah scanned left with her piece. With the way clear, the three agents proceeded through the door one by one as they established defensive positions in the next room.
The three agents held their defensive positions while they scrutinized the layout of the next space. A pair of folding tables with chairs flanked a closed door on the right wall, each holding a computer, a Bezier screen-saver flickering in the dimly lit space.
The wall to their left had become an impromptu bulletin board, with articles from Spanish newspapers and magazines crudely taped to the walls, interspersed with glossy photos of scantily clad Hispanic women.
At the far end, a chain link fence closed off the warehouse area beyond; a doorway-shaped gate in the center of the fence stood open.
The agents listened for a moment. Aside from the occasional creaking and scraping of the building, there was little sound.
Sarah detected a slight odor of decay in the air, as if trash had been left so long that only the remnants of the smell truly remained. The dirty floor had obviously been swept recently, but it needed far more than that.
Off in the distance, a pair of voices spoke in Spanish. Their footsteps drew closer as they approached the area beyond the gate.
The two men looked to Sarah. Thinking quickly, she sent a flurry of hand signals to the other agents. The three scurried into action. The two men crouched in the corners near the fence; the five-foot lips of the wall meeting the chain link provided some basic cover.
Sarah took the only remaining cover in the room; she pulled the door they had entered through most of the way open.
Two Hispanic men with medium builds came through the open gate, using their hands to talk animatedly. As best she could decipher their rapid Spanish, the pair was discussing a recent soccer match between the teams the two men supported. Casey and Phillips quietly crept out from their hiding spots after the pair passed, shadowing the two.
About halfway into the room, the man on the left noticed that the front door was open. "What is this?" he asked. The two looked at each other, then pulled guns from their belts.
Casey and Norris each struck a man in the head with the butts of their pistols. The two men fell to the ground, unconscious, their guns clattering loudly as they struck the floor.
Sarah leapt from her hiding spot, running to the closed door. Crouching down, she examined the dark space between the door and the floor, running a finger along it to confirm no light was being blocked by material she couldn't see. The room beyond was dark.
Giving a quick pair of hand signals to the others, she stood up and gently turned the knob. The door was unlocked; she carefully pushed it into the dark room beyond, gun drawn.
She had trouble seeing into the darkness, so she pushed a sequence of three buttons on her watch. The display beamed a bright light into the room; she scanned the room as if it were a flashlight.
The five-foot square space was more a closet than a room. Cleaning supplies were haphazardly lined up along one wall; a pile of rags, some of them dirty and some of them apparently bloody, sat in the far corner.
Casey and Norris dragged their two victims in the room using a fireman's carry, laying them face down against the far wall. They threw a pair of handcuffs on each man, and stuffed one of the rags in their mouths for good measure. They shut the door as they left, rejoining Sarah. Once again, they carefully listened.
Up front, the tone indicating somebody's approach sounded. The three turned to look in alarm. "Chuck," Casey whispered into his mic. "Who's approaching?"
The tone sounded again. And again. And again.
"Chuck!" Casey whispered more urgently. No response.
Agent Phillips retreated through the door into the room. "We've got company. Three men, all of them armed. They're about to storm the entrance."
Walker gave him an odd look. "But there were four tones?"
"That's right," he nodded grimly. "They've got Bartowski."
Scene LXVII – El Segundo, 729 Lairport Street, Warehouse, Exterior
The green-eyed man kept his gun firmly in the back of his prisoner, although it probably wasn't necessary. His captive was definitely the analyst type; if he were any more scared, he might wet himself.
The three were walking back from lunch when he had spotted four agents exit the back of the van about a block ahead. He had held up the two men with him, waiting to confirm that the agents were heading towards their warehouse. As they turned the corner, he made a quick call. Sure enough, about a minute later the agents took out the guard at the front desk.
It had been a simple matter to walk up to the back of the van and capture the man inside. Hell, he hadn't even been armed.
Given that the man was clearly no threat, he decided to keep him alive. One never knew when a hostage could be useful.
Approaching the building, the men deliberately set off the motion sensors hidden in the bushes as they entered the parking lot. It was time to drive their quarry into the jaws of their trap.
Scene LXVIII – El Segundo, 729 Lairport Street, Warehouse, Cage Area
They've got Chuck, Sarah thought helplessly.
She forced herself to calm down. Breathe, Walker. At least he was still alive. That's something.
Desperately searching for a focus, she closed her eyes. She took herself back to the moment in the dark room, when Chuck came in after she thought he was gone. She remembered how it felt to be in his arms, to lay against his shoulder. He was safe. She was safe.
She opened her eyes.
She stared over at Casey; he grimly returned her look. He nodded, affirming her unspoken thought. She needed that; she still couldn't completely trust herself to think rationally about Chuck.
"Norris. Phillips," she hissed. "Bartowski must be kept alive at all costs."
The two couldn't have been more surprised if had started to rain beer.
She emphasized, "At. All. Costs."
Norris nodded. Phillips nodded a moment later, his face making it clear he didn't particularly understand – or like – the order. That didn't matter.
Three men with Chuck were outside. What did they need to do?
Instinct took over. "Back to the front room. Now," she whispered loudly.
"Are you insane?!" Casey asked. "The…"
"NOW!" she repeated urgently.
Not understanding, the three watched her charge into the front room … and into the sights of the three armed men.
Scene LXIX – El Segundo, 729 Lairport Street, Warehouse, Front Room
Walker shoulder-rolled into the front room, taking the man opening the door down with her first shot. The other two scattered at the unexpected attack, the green-eyed man dragging a panicked Chuck off to the left side with him.
"Sarah!" Chuck cried out.
"Walker's lost it," Casey muttered. He knew her feelings for Chuck would eventually get them into trouble.
Wait. Something wasn't right. Why wouldn't the approaching men avoid the motion sensors? Surely they would know…
Suddenly, his eyes widened. "No, she's right! Go! Go!"
At Casey's urging, the other two agents finally sprung into action, able to assume positions behind the desk with the aid of Sarah's cover fire. Casey was the last man through, pulling the door shut as three men with submachine guns and two with handguns opened fire behind them, spraying splinters as the bullets struck the door. He winced as a large shard of wood embedded in the back of his neck; no time to deal with that now.
The two remaining gunmen outside had taken positions beyond the walls in the front corners of the room, blowing out the window, then taking the occasional blind shot to try to keep the four pinned.
The hailstorm of bullets stopped; no doubt their attackers were charging the door. He slid to the left, squeezing off a shot at the opposite attacker to keep him pinned.
Sarah lay on her stomach, trying to get a clean shot at either attacker. Norris and Phillips crouched behind the desk, each covering one of the attackers, firing the occasional shot.
This was not good. They probably had twenty seconds before the door behind them burst open, if that. And they couldn't compete with the firepower.
He looked around the room. The door behind them wasn't an option. The door in front of them wasn't an option. There was only the door to their left.
Casey slid to the wall next to the door, firing the occasional round at the opposite attacker, keeping him pinned.
Along his wall, a frightened Bartowski was suddenly thrust out beyond the cover. Norris barely pulled off a firing at the movement.
Between Chuck and the wall, a pair of bright-green eyes assessed the agents' positions. Casey remembered those eyes. Before he knew what he was doing, he had taken a step towards the green-eyed man.
Sarah planted a bullet in the wall right next to the man's head, causing Chuck to yelp, staring at the bullet hole a few scant inches away from his eyes. The green-eyed man jerked back, pulling Chuck with him.
Casey shook his head. He could no more go after the green-eyed man than Sarah could go after Chuck. Another time, he promised himself.
One more cover shot, and Casey was able to close the last few feet to the side door. He yanked it open, the door swinging towards the front window. The timing was excellent, because the green-eyed man took a blind shot along the wall a moment later, the bullet embedding in the door. He fired again at the opposite attacker.
C'mon!" he ordered, keeping the opposite attacker covered.
Sarah rolled once to her left and onto her feet. Running to the doorway, she paused for the briefest of moments as she scanned the room, then kept running. Norris and Phillips, quickly followed, firing the occasional cover shot as they slid across the room.
Casey fired one more cover shot at the opposite attacker. He was about to exit the room as well when the shattered door behind the desk was kicked in. On pure reflex, he turned and fired a quick shot into the doorway as he retreated, striking a man along the diagonal in the shoulder. The machine gun in his hand fired as the bullet turned his shoulder; a dozen bullets and three cries suggested that his one shot produced three victims, although none of them were likely fatal.
He turned with a grin; as he removed his foot, the weighted door swung shut. He couldn't resist asking Walker, "You gonna give me the combination shot if I didn't call it?"
She was reloading; he quickly did as well. "Given the circumstances, I'd say you can keep shooting." She flashed a tight grin as she locked her clip.
The room was mostly empty except for some flat, unconstructed boxes stacked by the exterior wall. The scarred walls and a couple of shredded targets suggested a number of shooting contests had been held here.
In addition to the door they entered, there was a door on the opposite wall, and one along the left wall. Norris was listening carefully at the left door; Phillips at the opposite.
Again, Casey assessed. He looked at Walker; simultaneously, the pair said, "Straight." It only made sense; the left door could mean being more easily surrounded, and they couldn't count on the element of surprise. However, they did have one advantage. Casey ran to the right of the door, and reached into his pouch.
Phillips nodded, then yanked his door open. Holding it open with his back, he helped to cover the door they had entered. Norris went first, kneeling as he scanned the room. Walker passed behind him, and soon the pair was securing the next room.
Casey carefully listened for action from Walker's room. Hearing nothing, he patiently waited. They would come.
Scene LXX – El Segundo, 729 Lairport Street, Warehouse, Office
The room was secure.
The desk, the filing cabinet, the bulletin board, and the other furnishings made it clear the space was used as an office. Of more interest was the pair of doors: one led back to the interior, and the other led outside. They had their way out. Sarah covered the interior door, while Norris covered the exterior.
Where the hell was Casey? She risked a glance back.
As soon as she spotted him, she understood his plan. Oh, this could be good.
Sarah slid over to Norris, and whispered in his ear. He nodded his understanding, and shifted positions so he could cover both doors.
She looked through the window on the exterior exit. Seeing the coast was clear, she slipped outside into the bright sunlight.
Scene LXXI – El Segundo, 729 Lairport Street, Warehouse, Interior Room
Tick. Tick. They would come.
Tick. Tick. They would come.
Tick. Tick. The door opened about two feet, and a handgun was blindly pointed around the corner.
Casey immediately grabbed the gun and twisted up. A shot fired into the ceiling as he stole the gun with his left hand … and then banked the live flash-bang off the suddenly closing door with his right.
He ran.
He was halfway across the room when panicked cries came from beyond the closed door. Phillips, timing his retreat, pulled away from the weighted door at the last moment, giving Casey just enough time to slip through the door before it slammed shut.
The flash-bang exploded, eliciting another set of cries. Casey dusted off his green polo as he rolled onto his back. He grinned.
Combination shots, bank shots … man, he was on fire.
Scene LXXII – El Segundo, 729 Lairport Street, Warehouse Exterior
After the detonation, Sarah came around the corner of the warehouse, gun drawn. Two disoriented men stumbled blindly in the midday sun. Having been trained with flash-bang grenades, she didn't envy the added burden of needing to adjust to the sunlight on top recovering from the flash of light.
Norris joined her. That was good; that meant Phillips and Casey had the room secured.
The two leveled their guns towards the men as they ran down the side of the building. She looked for Chuck's familiar Buy More uniform; she had been hoping that he and his captor would be incapacitated by the blast. No such luck. Crap.
"Down on the ground," she ordered, repeating the order in Spanish. Squinting blindly in her direction, the pair decided they had no choice, and slowly complied.
With the two on the ground, the agents ran to the edge of the broken window, and peered into the room. Another man lay on the ground, holding his ears as he writhed on the ground. Three more down. But where was Chuck?
Scene – El Segundo, 729 Lairport Street, Warehouse, Storage Space
The green-eyed man pushed Chuck into an open area towards the back of the warehouse. Three other men stood in the area, one of them helping to dress a bullet wound to in another's left forearm.
Gomes came through a door at the side of the room, looking irritated. Before the door shut, Chuck caught a glimpse of a lethargic Davis, obviously bruised and just as obviously alive. The door closed.
Gomes said, "We've lost six men to the attackers, with another one missing? And we've done nothing but capture an analyst?" He glared at the other four men. "How is this possible?"
None of the other men would look Gomes in the eye. He picked up a chair and hurled it against the wall in disgust.
The green-eyed man said, "We have to cut our losses and get out of here. This place will be swarming with agents inside twenty minutes."
Faster than Chuck thought possible, Gomes had a gun pointed at the man's head. Fighting his temper, he forced himself to lower the gun, returning it to the belt in the small of his back. "You may be right. There are, however, loose ends we must tie up first."
Chuck swallowed hard.
The five men surrounded Chuck in a ring. Gomes smirked, then narrowed his eyes as he glared at Chuck. "Tell me," he ordered, "how you found us."
"I really wouldn't know," Chuck lied, not very convincingly. "I was just brought in on this to do the surveillance piece."
Gomes laughed, then gave one of the other men an order is Spanish. The man pulled out a switchblade, flicking it open with an ominous click.
Gomes said, "Tell me, or we'll carve out your liver."
Five men, one with a knife, Chuck thought. Ironic. He decided his best tactic was to stall.
"OK, OK, I'll talk," Chuck conceded. Looking at Gomes, he said, "You are Ernesto Gomes of the Venezuelan secret service. Rayo Negro. You were spotted by one of our agents a little while ago."
He turned to look at the other men in turn, hoping for a flash to give him more intel to stall with. No such luck; none of their faces or markings were giving him anything.
Thinking quickly, he made up a story. "We followed you around town, but you eluded us twice, and were tough to track after you cleaned out the office space. We got a hit off a traffic camera in this area the other day, and tracked you to here."
Gomes shook his head. "That makes no sense. There are only two traffic cameras anywhere close to here, and we avoid them. Even if we didn't, that wouldn't give away our location."
The green-eyed man said, "This is taking far too long. I'll break his wrist." He reached out and grabbed Chuck's right arm with his right hand.
Chuck's eyes widened. He grabbed the man's right wrist with his left hand, and twisted hard. The green-eyed man flipped over onto the ground. Chuck let out a disbelieving gasp of pride.
The green-eyed man landed on his back, and with a smooth pivot, swept Chuck's legs out from under him; Chuck landed hard on his back, his breath whooshing from his lungs.
The man continued his roll back onto his feet, and had his gun drawn and pointed at Chuck's head by the time he regained his footing. "That was very stupid," he said.
Huh, Chuck thought, remarkably calm given the situation. Guess that's why Sarah doesn't want me fighting.
The green-eyed man narrowed his eyes, ready to pull the trigger.
A shot rang out. Then another.
Chuck heard two of the men collapse behind him.
A third shot, and a third collapse.
Gomes was sprinting off into a maze of scattered crates, occasionally dodging side-to-side to make himself a more difficult target. Chuck and his attacker turned to watch. Two more shots rang out, but both were wide of their target, striking crates and sending showers of splinters into the air. Then Gomes was gone.
The two turned back to look at the gunmen. Sarah stood there, gun pointed at the green-eyed man. "Drop it," she ordered.
"Drop it," she ordered again.
"And what?" the man sneered. "You won't shoot me as well?"
"You have my word," Sarah said.
"I'm not sure that I can trust your word. After all, we just met."
With a wicked expression, she countered, "Well, I can guarantee that you will get shot if you don't drop the gun."
The man pondered her words. "Yeah, but I'm thinking I get shot either way. At least this way, I take one of you with me." He turned to Chuck. "Stand up. Slowly."
Chuck saw Sarah's face flicker with doubt as he slowly climbed to his feet, the gun never leaving his temple. C'mon, Sarah, he thought. He tried to give her a reassuring expression; he had no idea whether he was successful in hiding his fear.
The green-eyed man looked back at Sarah. "Well," he asked. "Any last negotiating tactics?"
Coldly, Sarah said, "Just one." She fired off a shot.
The green-eyed man had a confused expression on his face as his arm flew back. He looked down at the gun as if he had expected it to fire. The gun fell lifelessly from his hands.
It was then he saw the blood dripping from the bullet-hole just inside his wrist. Sarah had shot out the tendons that controlled the movement of two of his fingers.
A second shot rang out as Sarah kept her end of the guarantee. The man still carried a stupefied expression when he hit the ground.
Chuck looked over at Sarah with an open mouth. "Nice shot!" he said. His adrenaline failed him and he put his hands on his knees to support himself while he tried to catch his breath.
Sarah slowly lowered her weapon, a concerned expression on her face. She didn't have the heart to tell him she had been aiming for the gun, not the wrist. A few inches the other way…
Scene – El Segundo, 729 Lairport Street, Warehouse, Storage Space
Gomes ran as fast as he could, which was very fast. Nobody would catch him in a footrace.
Straight ahead was the office door, and the exit. He chanced a last look behind to make sure the blonde woman wasn't pursuing him.
Casey quietly stepped out from behind a crate, a bleached white 2x4 in his hand. With Gomes not looking, he took a gentle swing and used Gomes' momentum against him.
With a satisfying crack, the board struck its target. Gomes' legs carried forward as his head stopped cold, and his body dropped to the ground like a ton of bricks.
"Black Lightning, meet white thunder." He threw the 2x4 to the ground next to the unconscious body.