As usual, I am indebted to Poa for proofreading Chapter 9. It has been corrected and uploaded.

This Chapter took a little longer. First the Super Bowl. Then my son had poison ivy. Then I had to watch the new 3-D Chuck.

But at last, here is…

CHUCK VERSUS THE BURN NOTICE

CHAPTER 10

An Unexpected Meeting

After turning Chuck over to Obregon, Michael parked his car a block away from the club and hurried back to the club's parking lot on foot. In order to assist Sam and Fiona with tailing Obregon, he needed a car Obregon would not recognize. His own car, an old Charger his father had been fixing up, was much too distinctive. He looked around the lot until he found what he was looking for. An old grey Camaro. With his skills he could have stolen any car, but old cars were much easier. Fewer theft deterrent systems. Further, older cars lacked airbags. That could prove crucial if he ended up having to force Obregon off the road. In a crash, an airbag generally knocked you out for a couple seconds. Sometimes those seconds were crucial. Michael didn't like stealing cars, and he always tried to return them, but sometimes ethics gave way to necessity. A few moments later, he was roaring out of the parking lot.

Once he was on the move, he called Fiona. "He's headed south on 95," she said. "This safe house must be on the other side of town from the one we raided."

"Okay, Fi. You've been on him long enough. Time to let Sam take a turn."

Fiona called Sam and relayed her location, then slowly began to accelerate until she passed Obregon. By the time she did, Sam and Casey in Casey's suburban were tailing Obregon. Sam called Michael. "I'm on him Michael. We've got visual and are tracking both the GPS in our cell-phone bug and Chuck's GPS. Mikey, you should see the tracking system Casey's got built into this Suburban. We really ought to look into getting a setup like this."

"Later Sam, just don't lose him," Michael said.

"No problem, Mike. We're… Wait a minute. He's turning off. Better hurry up and get up here. Okay, he's exited the freeway and we're… You've got to be kidding. Mike! He's going through a Starbucks. Since when do scumbag drug dealers with people in their trunk drive through a Starbucks?"

"Drive on past, Sam," Michael said. Fiona's a block away and she can drive past to check on him while he's in line. I'll be there in a couple minutes."

Michael accelerated. He really didn't like speeding in a stolen car, but sometimes you had to take a chance.

Fortunately, this time the chance paid off. Michael got to the Starbucks just as Obregon was pulling out of the parking lot. Michael was able to swing in behind Obregon as he reentered the freeway, headed south.

###

At the safe house, Sarah motioned Carina to watch the stairs while she went quickly to run a sweep of the upstairs bathroom. Then she went to each of the other three doors, what she assumed were the bedrooms holding the other girls, and listened carefully at the door. From one room she heard the soft whimpering of a girl. There were no sounds from the others. At least none she could hear through the door.

She moved silently to the stairs and whispered in Carina's ear. "The bathroom is clear and there are no sounds coming from the other rooms other than the sound of a girl whimpering."

"Plenty of noise from downstairs," Carina said. Sarah could hear the sound of music and voices. She looked questioningly at Carina. "Telenovela," Carina said. "Not one of the better ones. Think it's our friend with the bad teeth and the needle tracks?"

Sarah looked annoyed. "They're supposed to come running up the stairs when they hear the sounds of the fight," Sarah said.

"Guess they haven't read the bad guy handbook," Carina said. "What now?"

Sarah thought for a moment. She climbed onto the railing above the stairs and then turned around and held the railing and braced her feet just above the opening to the stairwell. Carina stepped out of the line of sight of the stairs and then assumed a 'ready' stance. Sarah cleared her throat and yelled down in her best gravelly-voice Spanish, trying to imitate Lupe's voice, "Get up here. We need a hand with these new girls." From downstairs came the sound of cursing, and then the thud of feet approaching the stairs.

Carina watched the shadow coming up the stairs, and when she judged the moment was right, she nodded to Sarah. Sarah pushed off with her feet and swung back and let go of the railing. Her feet kicked backwards and she started to drop down the stairwell. At the last moment, she grabbed the base of two of the railing spindles. Her downward momentum stopped, her feet now swung in an arc that drove them right into the face of the man coming up the stairs. She let go and allowed her momentum to drive her into her target. She piled into him and he tipped backwards, falling back down the stairs and knocking down a second man who was coming up right behind him. All three landed in a heap at the base of the stairs. Sarah was on top, but temporarily winded by the fall. Beneath her was Needle-tracks, evidently the first one coming up the stairs. He was out cold. Beneath him was another man – the one Sarah had mentally dubbed Smith & Wesson for the weapon he was carrying. He was temporarily stunned and was pinned beneath both Sarah and Needle-tracks. Carina came barreling past the stunned pile of bodies and delivered a swift kick to Smith & Wesson's jaw that snapped his head back and into the floor with a sickening 'crunch.'

Carina immediately crouched to pull the pistol from Smith & Wesson's hand. Sarah untangled herself from Needle-tracks and staggered to her feet. She shook her head to clear the cobwebs and looked over at Carina. Carina held up three fingers. Three guards left.

There came a shout from the other room and bullet whizzed past Sarah and embedded itself in the wall behind Carina. Sarah immediately ducked back into the stairwell while Carina squeezed off two rounds, and then joined her.

"About time we got to the gunplay," Carina said. "I was beginning to think this bunch was going to be a pushover."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "In case you've forgotten, Carina, you're the only one of us with a gun." Another two shots rang out and embedded in the wall at the base of the stairs.

"The report that time was different than the first shot," Carina said. "So we've got at least two shooters."

Two more shots rang out. "Make that three," Carina said.

Carina pulled the clip on her pistol and checked it. "Thirteen shots left," she said. "Check him," she nodded down at Smith & Wesson. Sarah grunted as she grabbed the thug's shoulders and pulled him back into the stairwell where she could check him without exposing herself.

"Nothing," she said to Carina. "If they rush us, can you get all three?"

"Maybe," Carina said. "But they won't. Drug dealers aren't known for their bravery. None of them wants to be the one to take a bullet. They'll keep us pinned down while they call for backup."

"Wonderful," Sarah said.

"You go back upstairs and get the girls out,' Carina said. "I checked. The burglar bars on our window were rusted. You should be able to break them out."

"I'm not leaving you, Carina," Sarah said.

"Don't think I can take all three by myself?" Carina asked.

"I just don't want you to have all the fun," Sarah replied. Then, reaching into the waistband at the back of her panties, she pulled out her knife. For what little good it would do her against three armed assailants.

###

Michael, Fiona, and Sam and Casey rotated following Obregon's car close enough to keep it in visual range. At least Fiona, in her Saab, and Sam and Casey in Casey's Suburban had GPS tracking of both Obregon and Chuck. Michael had no such luxury in his stolen Camaro. He vowed that next time they tried something like this, they were going to get radios. This constant calling each other on their cell phones was getting old.

Currently, Michael was Obregon's 'tail.' When Obregon slowed and cut over to the right hand lane, Michael called Sam. "I think Obregon's getting ready to exit," he said. Indeed, Obregon exited the highway. Michael continued on until the next exit and then immediately looped back. Meanwhile, Fiona took up the tail.

Tailing a subject in a residential area was a little trickier than following them on the freeway where there were generally more cars. Hopefully they would reach their destination soon.

###

Obregon was feeling pretty good. He had renegotiated his percentage with Michael, his new supplier. And the boy in the trunk gave him leverage. With a little work, he could do away with Michael and take over the importation himself. After all, if he had the son, he could control the father, the customs inspector, and the father was the key to the whole smuggling operation.

All he needed was time to grow big enough to challenge either Menocal or Cespedes and take over their organization. Time and men and guns. He would rule Miami. He would rule South Florida. It was his destiny. And now, for the first time, he felt that he was really on the way. Before it had been merely a dream. Now it was becoming a reality. The boy in the trunk was the key.

Damn! He forgot all about calling Lupe. Lupe did not like it when he brought in 'guests' to 'her house' unannounced. Besides, she would need to make arrangements to keep the boy separate from the mules.

He picked up his cell phone and sighed heavily. He was not exactly scared of the old prostitute, Lupe. It was just that she could be so difficult. He had no problem smacking around women. In fact, he did it quite often. It made him feel like more of a man. But Lupe was different. She was not afraid of him like the other girls. If he hit her, she just laughed at him. Besides, she reminded him too much of his mother.

He dialed the number of the safe house. It rang three times, six times, nine times. Finally, on the tenth ring, just as he was about to hang up, someone picked up the phone. "What the hell is going on?" Obregon yelled. "Is everyone too busy to pick up the damned phone?"

"Obregon!" came the voice on the other end. "Thank God. We are under attack!"

"What?" Obregon yelled. "Under attack? What is happening? Put Lupe on the phone."

"Lupe is gone. Probably dead. We are under attack!"

"Who is this? Who's attacking? How many men?"

"This is Pablo," the man on the other end said, his voice rising in pitch. Obregon heard two quick shots in the background. "We don't know who they are. They came out of nowhere. There must be five, six men. Big men. Lots of guns. They got Mano and Lupe and Paco and Che and Rodrigo."

Obregon began to panic. Four of his seven men at the house were down. And some of his best, too. What should he do? He had to go to the house to salvage the situation. But on the other hand, that would mean putting both himself and the prize in his trunk in danger.

And who were these men? Had DEA agents somehow found the safe house and brought in a SWAT team? Or had Cespedes or Menocal found out about his plans and sent some men to take him out?

"What is the situation now?" Obregon asked the nervous Pablo.

"They are in the stairwell. We have them pinned down for now. At least, they are not coming for us yet. Hurry, boss. Hurry. They will overrun us."

"Hold them off as long as you can," Obregon said. "I am on the way. I will bring help."

"We will do all we can, boss. Please hurry."

Obregon cut the connection and dialed a number he hated to use. It was his half-brother, Raul Bolivar (same mother, different fathers). Raul ran one of the local gangs. He had men and guns in plenty, but he was always angling to get a piece of Enrique's business. The price of calling him for help would be high. But the price of not calling for help could be all of Enrique's business.

"Raul, it is Enrique." Enrique Bolivar spoke in English because, as his brother liked to say, 'I am an American, not a Cuban. I speak the language of my country. The country of opportunity. The opportunity to kick the shit out of anyone who disagrees with you.'

"Enrique," Raul said. "What a pleasant surprise, brother. You must be in deep shit."

"Someone is raiding my safe house. Eight to ten men. Lots of guns. I am on my way there. I need your help, Raul. I am about to lose everything. They must be hitting me because they know I am about to greatly expand. You must help me, Raul."

"Of course," Raul said. "But, big brother, it will cost you. It will cost you dearly."

Enrique Obregon paused. The words felt like ash in his mouth. "I will pay it, little brother. But you must hurry."

As soon as they cut the connection, Raul Bolivar smiled. He really did hate his older brother. This was the perfect opportunity to kill him and take over his business, all at the same time.

He threw a beer bottle over at a group of young men in a drunken sleep on a dirty couch across the room. "Wake up the brothers," Raul yelled. "Time to go have a little fun."

###

Back at the safe house, the 'five or six heavily armed men' were discussing their options. "They've probably already called for help," Sarah told Carina. "We need to get to them and take them down fast. How many shots do you have left?"

"Eight," Carina said. "What's the plan?"

Sarah poked her head around the corner just enough to get a good look at the living room. "I've got an idea. You said the burglar bars are weak in the room upstairs?"

"Yes," Carina said. "You reconsidering taking the girls out that way?"

"No," Sarah said. "Just me. I'm going to go out the window and see if I can come up behind them."

Carina looked at Sarah. For just a moment it looked like she was about to say something, but then she swallowed hard and seemed to change her mind. "Just go kick their asses," Carina said.

Sarah ran upstairs and back into the bedroom. Lupe was starting to stir, so she quickly grabbed some strips of mattress ticking to tie up her and Mano, cursing herself for not thinking of it earlier. She opened the windows and studied the burglar bars. The wood had rotted a little and the bars were a little rusty, but they didn't budge when she pulled at them. She pulled out her knife and with a sigh – she hated to dull the blade of one of her good knives - she began hacking at the wood. Within a couple minutes, she had it loosened sufficiently that she was able to give it a kick and send it clattering to the ground below. She cursed the noise. It might have given her position away. She heard two more shots from Carina's gun and knew she would have to move quickly.

It was a long drop to the ground and Sarah fell hard, twisting her ankle. She stood on it and pain shot up her leg, but she ignored it and crept around the side of the house.

She checked each window as she passed it, looking for the three remaining guards. Finally, as she got to the back of the house, she saw two of them, guns drawn, standing against the door-frame of the door from the kitchen to the living room. She couldn't see the third one. That could be a problem, but there was nothing she could do about that now. She crept silently onto the back porch and picked up a steel patio chair that was rusting on the porch. She took three deep breaths, then used the chair as a battering ram, hitting the back door at a dead run.

The door frame splintered and the door burst open. Sarah didn't stop and plowed chair-first into the first man. Trapped as he was between the steel chair and the wall, Sarah heard bones snap at the man was pinned to the wall. Using the advantage of surprise, Sarah dropped the chair with a clang and sent a roundhouse kick into the head of the other man. He recovered just enough to avoid the full force of the blow, but it did knock the gun out of his hand.

He lashed out at Sarah, who dodged his jabbing left, but a stunning right hit her square in the mouth. Sarah reeled, stunned, as her fake braces bit into the flesh of the inside of her lip. She recovered quickly enough to drop under the follow-up blow and sweep the man's leg. He toppled to the side and would have fallen if he had not caught himself against the wall. He smiled a feral grin and lashed out at Sarah with another combination of left and right jabs. This one, Sarah thought ruefully, actually had some training. Of course, so did she. She jabbed with her left and when he moved to block the blow, she swung her foot up in an arc that caught him in the temple. He staggered back and Sarah snapped a kick into groin that sent him sprawling across the floor.

He lay on the floor, moaning in pain, and Sarah looked down at him. She felt something warm on her mouth and reached up the back of her hand to wipe away a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth.

"You're getting a little rusty, Sarah," she heard Carina say as the DEA agent stepped over the body of the thug she had dispatched. "Your current assignment is letting you get a little soft." She grinned. "You know what I've found is great exercise?"

"I know all about your 'exercise routine,' Carina," Sarah panted. "I prefer to be dressed when I exercise."

Carina was about to say something when her eyes narrowed at something behind Sarah.

"Well," said Enrique Obregon. "It seems my new mules have quite the kick."

He had a sawed off shotgun aimed at the back of Sarah's head. "You," he told Carina. "Drop the gun and kick it over here to me."

Carina gave Sarah a little shake of the head. Sarah couldn't see Obregon so she didn't know that he carried the shotgun. A pistol you might be able to dodge. A shotgun's blast pattern made it impossible to avoid. Carina bent slowly down and placed her gun on the ground, then kicked it over to Obregon, making sure to kick it hard enough that it went just past him.

"Nice try," he said, backing up to pick up the pistol and stick it in his waistband.

"Now. Who are you? Clearly not a couple lost little girls from the Mid-West."

He smiled. "It doesn't matter, of course. I think I'll will enjoy…"

He never finished the sentence. His head snapped forward and there was a 'crack' as pieces of wood flew past him. Behind him, Chuck Bartowski stood with the splintered end of a wooden board in his hands.

Sarah looked at him in horror. "Chuck! What are you doing here?"

"It wasn't safe in the car," Chuck shrugged.