If you haven't figured it out by now, is there any point in saying it? Oh well. I don't own either Chuck or Burn Notice.

Thanks again to Poa for the proofreading duties for the last chapter. It has been corrected and updated.

CHUCK VERSUS THE BURN NOTICE

CHAPTER 9

The Handoff

Michael stopped the car two blocks from the parking lot for the Calle Sinco club where he was supposed to meet Enrique Obregon again. He turned to Chuck. "I'm really sorry, Chuck, but I think you need to ride the rest of the way in the trunk. Obregon is going to get suspicious if we drive up with you sitting in the passenger seat."

"You ever ridden in a trunk?" Chuck asked. "It's not terribly roomy."

"So you've ridden in a trunk before?" Michael asked.

"More times than I care to admit," Chuck said.

Michael was about to offer a snide comeback, but the look on Chuck's face cut him off. "Last chance. It's not too late to call this off and come up with another plan. We can backtrack Obregon's GPS movements and see if we can correlate where he stops most often. One of them may be the safe house."

Chuck shook his head. "It'd take forever to check out all the locations. Besides, there's no way to be sure that any of them would even check out as the safe house. We've only been tracking him a little more than 24 hours."

Michael couldn't argue with the kid's logic. With a little seasoning, the kid would make a decent operative, he thought. Then corrected himself. No. Chuck had too much heart for this line of work. Best to leave the spying to the cynical realists from dysfunctional families.

"Let's do it," Michael said. He got out and Chuck, after taking a deep breath and making fists with his hands to relieve the tension, got out as well. Michael produced a zip tie and fastened Chuck's in front of him. "Normally you fasten a prisoner's hands behind them," Michael said, "But Obregon doesn't know I'm a trained operative so he will hopefully think I just got sloppy. It's a lot more comfortable to have your hands in front."

Michael shook his head. Why did he keep explaining things to Chuck? Ever since this mission started, he'd been explaining what he was doing, giving the kid pointers on spycraft, essentially mentoring him. This Chuck was really getting to him.

Michael opened the trunk and Chuck climbed in. Michael had taken everything else out in order to make it as comfortable for Chuck as possible, but Michael knew from way too much personal experience that there was no way to make a ride in the trunk anything but unpleasant. He leaned over and put a piece of duct tape over Chuck's mouth. "Can you breathe all right?" he asked.

Chuck nodded.

"Okay, watch your head," he told Chuck as he shut the trunk.

He got back in and started up the car, then called Fiona. "He's in the trunk. I'm going to go make the handoff." He called Sam and relayed the same message, but also asked, "How's Casey?"

"He's moaning pretty regular so he should come out of it fairly soon."

"Yeah," Michael said. "Good luck with that."

"Not to worry," Sam said. "I gotta plan."

Michael drove the last two blocks to the parking lot of the club where Obregon's car was sitting by itself, far from the other cars. Michael pulled up next to him and got out. Obregon waited for a moment, a typical power play move Michael recognized. Then he slowly got out.

"Good morning, Michael," he said. "I was surprised to get your call. I didn't expect to see you again so soon."

"Well," Michael said in his affected drawl. "As soon as I left you, I started to put the plan in effect to bring in the product. Then that son of a bitch customs inspector gets cold feet. I worked for three months to get the dirt on the bastard, and then at the last minute he decided that it ain't enough." Michael popped open the trunk. "So I grabbed Daddy's little boy and told Daddy that unless he played ball, I would mail him the kid back a piece at a time."

"He will not just go to his superiors or the police?" Obregon asked, looking at Chuck the way one might at a bug on the bottom of one's shoe.

"Nah," Michael said. "He's real partial to the kid. Only child, nervous mother, all that. Listen, we've got to make sure nothing happens to the kid. Daddy finds out he's hurt in any way and he will stop playing ball. You said you have somewhere you can stash him? Somewhere safe?"

"He will be safe," Obregon said. "I will put him in the house where I keep the mules. No one but my people know the location."

It was exactly what Michael wanted to hear, but he had to play this carefully. "Are you sure that's such a good idea?"

Chuck's eye went wide. 'Oh my God,' he thought. 'Michael's betrayed me.'

He started to rise up out of the trunk, but Michael harshly pushed him back down. "I mean," Michael said. "Keeping him there with all those girls?"

"He will be fine," Obregon assured him. "You have my word."

Michael shrugged and pulled Chuck roughly out of the trunk. Obregon opened his trunk and they shoved Chuck in. Obregon slammed the trunk shut a little harder than was really necessary and then said, "And now, let us talk about my compensation."

Seven minutes later, Obregon pulled out of the lot. Michael immediately called Fiona. "He's on the move, Fi."

"I was getting worried, Fiona said. "What took so long?"

"Obregon wanted to renegotiate the deal now that he's got leverage. I had to cut my delivery fee for the product by ten percent."

"And that took ten minutes?" Fiona asked.

"I had to haggle," Michael said. "It had to look good. He said he's taking Chuck to the safe house."

"Okay," Fiona said. "I've got him. Visual and Chuck's GPS signal is still strong."

"Don't lose him, Fi."

"Not a chance, Michael," Fiona said. "Not a chance in hell."

Michael called Sam. "Okay, Sam," Michael said. "Obregon took the bait. He's on the way to the safe house. Fiona's on him first. Coordinate with her for the change-over. I've got to get a new car."

Michael pulled his car a block away from the club and parked his car. Then he headed back to the club's lot and went 'car shopping.'

###

Sam pulled over to the side of the road. This next operation, in some ways, was the trickiest one of the entire mission. Sam leaned over and broke a capsule of ammonia under Casey's nose.

Casey thrashed violently and jerked his head back. He blinked back the tears forming in his eyes and looked around, dazed for a moment, then focused an angry gaze on Sam.

"Sam," Casey growled. "I'm going to kill you. Then I'm going to really hurt you." He went to lunge for Sam, but came up short when a sharp pain cut into his wrist. He looked down. He had been zip-tied to the car door.

"Casey, buddy," Sam said, holding his hands up. "It's not what you think."

"I think I was hit over the head, dragged to my own car and zip-tied to the door," Casey said through clenched teeth.

"Okay, Sam said. "It is what you think. But I had nothing to do with this."

"You're driving my car."

"Okay," Sam said. "I had something to do with this. But let me explain, and then I'll cut you loose. As long as you promise not to hurt me."

"Start talking," Casey growled.

"You see," Sam said. "That's not really a promise not to hurt me. A promise would contain the words, well, 'I promise.'"

"I promise," Casey said.

"Close enough," Sam said. "You'd probably kill me anyway even if you did promise."

"Sam," Casey growled.

"Okay, Okay." Sam said. "Fiona hit you."

"What?" Casey asked.

"It was Fiona. You know how women are. Once she heard how Chuck was being all noble to save Sarah and Carina, she got all soft and," here he started speaking in a falsetto, "Oh. Isn't it romantic that Chuck's going to go save those poor girls?"

Casey narrowed his eyes. "Calm center, Casey," Sam said. "Don't lose your calm."

"Too late," Casey said.

"Anyway," Sam said. "I tried to stop her but she walked over and whacked you a good one. Is your head okay?"

"I am going to kill Bartowski," Casey rumbled.

"Who?" Sam asked.

"Never mind," Casey said. "Where's, uh, Carmichael?"

"Michael just delivered him to Obregon. Obregon is taking him to the safe house."

"Then what the hell are we sitting here for?" Casey asked. "Drive!"

Sam turned to and started the car.

"Cut me loose first, you moron."

Sam pulled out a knife and started to lean across Casey to cut the zip tie. He paused. "Remember, you promised."

Casey growled and Sam quickly cut the plastic tie. Casey reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a Sig Sauer P250. He pulled the magazine and checked the rounds in the mag and then rammed the magazine home and chambered a round.

All the while, Sam drove, but kept glancing over at Casey. "Watch the road," Casey said. "I'm not gonna kill you until after the mission."

Sam honestly didn't know whether Casey was joking or not.

###

Sarah and Carina lay upon the mattresses in 'their' room. It was best not to make a play right away, Sarah finally convinced Carina. That's when their captors would expect it. Best to wait a bit to allow their captors to relax their guard. But that meant waiting. Neither woman was particularly good at waiting. Finally, the silence got to Carina.

"So," Carina asked. "Have you and Chuck slept together yet?" Carina asked. This time she was speaking in Farsi, just for practice.

Sarah turned and glared at her. "What kind of question is that?" She likewise spoke Farsi.

"Interesting," Carina said. "That's not a 'no'. So you are sleeping with him."

"Chuck is a member of my team," Sarah said.

"That didn't stop you with Bryce," Carina pointed out.

"Chuck is an asset," Sarah said. "It's different. Besides, Bryce was a mistake."

"Oh, come on, Sarah. What's wrong with a little roll in the hay? I've heard that nerds can be quite passionate in bed." Unfortunately, there was no Farsi word for 'nerd' she had to use English for that.

"How is this even any of your business?" Sarah asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Carina said. "He's kind of cute. Obviously pretty passionate. I was thinking that after this mission I might do him myself."

"You stay away from him," Sarah hissed and sat part way up on her mattress. Fortunately, hissing the phrase was much easier in Farsi.

"Jealous?" Carina asked.

"Hardly," Sarah said. "For one thing Chuck would never… You're not… There's nothing to be jealous about."

"Oh, I don't know," Carina said. "I usually get what I want." She paused. "Come to think of it. I usually get what you want, too."

Sarah grabbed the edges of the mattress and squeezed as hard as she could. She knew Carina was baiting her. It was Carina's second favorite pastime. She lay back down on the mattress and took several deep breaths, just as her academy instructor had told her. She tried to change the subject.

"You think one of the girls might be a mole?" she asked.

Carina chuckled softly. "All right. We don't have to talk about Chuck. For now." She thought for a moment. "Didn't Michael brief us that some of the girls have been mules for Obregon for over a year?"

"Yes," Sarah confirmed.

"Plenty of time for at least one of the girls to develop trauma-bonding," Carina said. Trauma bonding was a phenomenon whereby a victim develops a bond with their abuser and will refuse to leave them, or even assist them, despite a chance to escape the abuse.

"So it may be better to take out the guards before we release the girls," Sarah said. "And we certainly can't tell the girls who we are or why we're here."

"Agreed," Carina said.

"Well, sneaking them out the back was never really an option anyway," Sarah sighed. She stood up. "I guess we've waited long enough."

"Bogotá? The governor's mansion?" Carina asked.

Sarah thought for a moment, and then nodded. "That'll work."

Both women took a moment to get back into character. Then Sarah walked over and knocked gently on the door. "Hello? Hello? Is anybody there? I have to go to the bathroom."

There was no answer. She tried knocking and calling a little louder. Still no response. She banged on the door. "Please! Help. I have to go to the bathroom. Really bad!"

There was a thudding of footsteps coming up the stairs. "Shut up in there," a man's voice called through the door.

"Please," Sarah whined. "I have to pee really, really bad."

There was the sound of someone fumbling with keys, then the scraping of the key in the lock. Sarah stepped back from the door. Weasel-face entered. Sarah stepped back, cringing away from him. He shook his head, stepped toward her, and reached out to grab her arm. With one swift move, Sarah grabbed his arm, swung it around behind his back, and then spun him around to face Carina. Carina's fist lashed out and drove hard into his nose. His head snapped back and there was a sickening crunch as the cartilage in his nose shattered. Sarah had to dodge his head as it whipped backwards, almost catching her in the face.

It all happened so fast, he didn't have time to shout. Sarah released him and he slid to the floor. "Would you be a little more careful?" Sarah whispered angrily. "You almost hit me with his head."

Carina shrugged. "You moved in time."

Sarah shook her head, then pulled out her knife and cut some of the mattress ricking into straps and tied up Weasel-face, not that he was going to be going anywhere anytime soon. Carina searched him for weapons. All she found was a switchblade. She shrugged and slipped it into the waistband of her panties.

Sarah stood and looked at Carina, who nodded. She nodded toward Weasel-face. Carina shook her head 'no.' Sarah made a more emphatic head-nod toward Weasel-face. Carina just smiled and shook her head 'no' again.

With a sigh, Sarah got back down on the mattress and pulled the unconscious Weasel-face over to her so that it looked like he was trying to molest her.

"Ahhhhhhh!" Sarah screamed. "Get off me! Get off me!"

There was more pounding of feet on the stairs and Mano came busting into the room, followed closely by Lupe. Both were disheveled and partly undressed. "Paco!" Mano bellowed as he charged into the room. "I warned you. Get…" He never finished the sentence as Carina's foot came flashing out from beside the door and knocked his head sideways. Sarah pushed the limp form of Weasel-face a/k/a Paco off of her and her hand flashed with a knife that buried itself deep in Mano's thigh. He went down and Lupe, charging in after him, plowed right into him and the two collapsed into a heap on the floor.

Sarah sprang off the mattress and over to the pair. She grabbed a handful of Lupe's hair and slammed Lupe head into the back of Mano's head. Her forehead rebounded nicely and she crumpled in a heap on the floor. "Sorry about that, ma'am," Sarah said.

Mano was moaning and clutching his thigh. Carina stepped over to him and grabbed the back of his head pulled his head backwards. She held the point of the switchblade up to his jugular. "How many more guards?" she asked in Spanish.

Mano moaned. "How many more?" The point of the knife dug into his throat, drawing blood. "Five," he answered.

"Thank you," she said, then slammed the fist holding the knife into his jaw. His head whipped to the side, his eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed. She checked him quickly for weapons. Finding none, Carina pulled Sarah's knife out of his thigh, wiped it on the back of his shirt, and stood. "Sarah," she called, and tossed her the knife. "We were right," she said. "Five more."

'Five more,' Sarah thought. 'And at least one of those is armed.'

###

Author's Note: Another short one, but it's late again and since my son insisted on snuggling on the couch for a movie and popcorn tonight, that cut into my writing time. But it was so worth it.

But he and I did score two sheets of 3-D Chuck glasses this morning. One sheet for us and one sheet for the little neighbor girls he plays with. Ah, young love.