Fate
Chapter 2
A/N: So a lot of people tried but no one got the third cipher. I hope no one feels bad; I made it a decently hard cipher on purpose. I can't make it too easy for Chuck. ;) Don't worry. There will be more puzzles and clues for poor Chuckles to follow in the future.
0001.2 A.L.C.
Naples, Italy
CIA Substation
Agent Walker paced the floor in front of several new agents. The silence in the conference room was deafening. Before being assigned here they had all heard of the living legend that was Agent Sarah Walker. No one had, before now, believed most of the stories. According to the legend, as the leader of a highly secret initiative, Walker, an analyst turned agent and an unknown NSA assassin had single handedly taken down Fulcrum before moving on and all but eliminating The Ring. More recently she'd been known for having nearly half of the agents assigned here sent back to the Farm. The last part was the prevalent thought running though the minds of several of the agents sitting in the room. Their collective breaths hitched as Agent Walker stopped pacing, deepening the silence. Spinning on her heals she faced the green agents waiting for her.
The agent's eyes felt like daggers. Her features reminisce of angry bear as she begun. "I put you in the field for a simple watch and observe mission." Several agents sunk lower in their seats, recalling the almost disastrous mission briefing, most of the agents were so slumped over in there seats already they were in danger of sliding out of their chairs. Agent Garner, in particular, figured if he slumped low enough he'd be out of view behind the agent in front of him. He had been placed in charge of the mission and he figured he was the first one gone. The marker hit him squarely between the eyes. The shock snapped him and several of the agents sitting around him out of their individual introspections.
By the time the agent registered what had happened Agent Walker had turned her attention to someone else. "If it wasn't for the quick thinking of Agent Niebieski here, there would be less agents sitting here feeling sorry for themselves." Agent Kayla Niebieski smiled shyly. She didn't think the call she'd made was all that important.
Sarah continued her brief, "She'll be the field chief from this point on. I need people thinking objectively not stumbling around trying to save their own asses."
"I've seen missions screwed up worse, but not much worse." Sarah continued her chastisement. "What possessed any of you to go outside mission perimeters and engage the contact? Honestly I've never seen a mission go so off the wire and still come though in the end. If it wasn't for Agent Niebieski saving your ass you'd all be headed back to the Farm for a refresher course. I'm granting a rather large reprieve here. You're getting a second chance, so don't mess this it up." Shooting a piercing glare towards the agent she'd used as target practice she added icily. "Agent Garner if you call me by name from the field one more time I'll recommend you for an outpost so remote by the time you get back, your kids would be replacing you."
"Yes, Agent Wal...ah, Ma'am" Agent Garner gulped loudly as he replied. I'm an Idiot.
"Agents, Be back and ready for a covert observation mission in one hour. The briefing will start at 1800. Now get out of my sight. You all look like death warmed over. We will not have a repeat of last night." Sarah finished her verbal beating with another well directed marker to the back of Garner's head as the severely chastised agents scurried out of the room. Apparently, no one needed any extra encouragement to flee from the presence of the obviously perturbed senior agent. This is the last time I accept a babysitting mission regardless of my condition.
Sarah had reluctantly accepted the position as a temporary Assistant Station Chief position at the Naples Substation in Italy. The director had given her the option of returning to the states for her rehabilitation or staying in her operational area and sitting a station chief chair after suffering a gunshot wound to the leg. Her last mission hadn't gone to plan. Sarah had pulled a rabbit out of a hat and it had saved the mission objective. Unfortunately at the same time it had put her in the line fire and she'd paid for it. Now, over a month and a half after the incident, her rehabilitation nearly complete, she looked forward to getting 'back in the shit' as the term was coined. Time went by faster when she was on missions. Sitting around babysitting recruits was not only excruciatingly annoying, time crawled to a snails pace during the inactivity. Time paradoxes aside she needed a way to slide through these years without Chuck as fast as possible. Maybe Chuck will figure out time travel... The only plus to her current situation was she could actively monitor her favorite subject. She had intercepted his online purchase order for the iSat a year ago and had redirected the package temporarily and modified it. Sarah could track his location remotely through his Satellite uplink. It was a risky move which technically voided his warranty. Luckily for her Chuck as technologically adept as he was, was also a stickler with warranties and wouldn't ever notice. The tracker wasn't much in the way of a connection and it was certainly a one sided situation. She had justified it in her mind at the time as a way of being with him even though she couldn't.
Sarah moved towards the gym and away from the conference room to complete yet another painful rehabilitation session. She'd put in a request a new pair of sparring gloves. In her attempt to pass the time she'd spent hours pounding away at the heavy bag she'd set up in the corner of the modest workout station tucked into a corner office of the station.
The permanent station chief was an excellent therapist and Agent Walker was nearly a month ahead of the normal recovery curve. He had been completely surprised at the level of tenacity the stunning female agent had displayed. He'd seen his share of highly motivated people before. He worked with the veritable cream of the crop of over achieving humans. Despite warnings to the contrary from the Director, Walker had displayed a tenacity and drive unmatched in his long experience with the Company. There was something there that he'd yet to put his finger on. Something that drove her outside the normal personal ambition or a call to duty. It was personal, no doubt, but this was something beyond her. What was she running towards?
Sarah was certainly thankful for her ability to heal quickly. She was also thankful the bullet had missed the bone and major tendons in her upper leg. Strangely enough during her entire CIA career she'd never had a truly debilitating injury. This had been the first injury to take her out of the field for more than the obligatory, short, observation period. She hoped her luck would hold for a while longer. The last thing she wanted was to be relegated to a desk any time soon. She vowed to herself she would be more careful in her following missions. No reckless actions to save a mission. She had to survive. Sarah knew that if she returned from a mission in a body bag it would most likely end Chuck. She'd caused enough pain in Chuck's life. She wouldn't be what finally broke him.
During her down time Sarah spent much of her time reading field manuals and cipher guides. Anyone watching her would dismiss the apparent obsession with them as a zeal for her job and a desire to maintain her position as top field agent. The real reason was more subversive in nature. Sarah was devising a way to contact and maintain a dialog with Chuck. Ciphers had never been her strong suit. She had resisted the desire to send a message to him right away. The only thing stopping Sarah from attempting contact right now was the knowledge that if she messed it up she'd loose him forever. As this was not acceptable she'd hold it in and only attempt communication when she was sure of her ability to keep the contacts secure. She would start slow and use blind call back points to make sure Chuck was receiving and understanding the transmissions before actually allowing back and forth communications.
____
0004.11 A.L.C.
Washington D.C.
CIA Headquarters
Sarah was immensely relieved, for the first time since she could remember, to be back on U.S. soil. Before her assignment with Chuck in L.A. Sarah had always preferred to be on foreign soil doing what she did best. On top of her proirity shift her last mission had required her to go off grid, literally, in the jungles of South Africa for over 3 years. She'd had no contact with the civilized world for so long it was a bit of a shock to the system just to fly home. Not, home. Home is with Chuck. Sarah reminded herself. Sarah had kicked herself for not brining her cipher books with her on the extended mission. The mission had only initially required a year long commitment. A string of initial and misinterpreted intelligence reports prior to her insertion had started her off on a badly skewed footing. On top of the numerous intelligence gaps it had required much longer to assimilate into the region than anticipated. The natives had been immensely less forthright with information than assessed. It had been entirely due to the impressive nature of Agent Sarah Walker that the mission wasn't a total scrub from the very beginning. The ass reaming Sarah had prepared and delivered for the analysts responsible for her unwelcome and uncomfortable extended stay in South Africa was epic to say the very least. Two of the agents in the debriefing had actually left in tears. One quit. In reality they were lucky to leave physically unscathed.
Sarah had been called into the Director's office immediately after the debriefing. The rumors of a psychotic deep cover agent roaming the halls looking to exact revenge for bad Intel were already causing considerable amounts of angst within the analyst ranks. When Sarah entered the office she didn't wait for the Director to being speaking. "Director, that was my last deep cover mission. If this is the level of support I can expect from your analysts then I have lost faith in the CIA's ability to properly support my missions. I will conduct short term extractable missions only. If you have a problem with that you can shove it."
The director had expected as much from the formidable woman standing in front of him. Honestly he was as appalled with the Intel failures surrounding the onset of her last mission as she was. "Agent Walker, I couldn't agree more with you on the debriefing you conducted. However, you can't go around scaring all my analysts. Most of these egg heads here have the intestinal fortitude of slugs. You have to stroke their egos to get anything halfway decent out of them nowadays."
Sarah nodded to the director as she began to make her way to the door of the office. She called back over her shoulder as she reached the door. "I'm talking some time off. I'll contact you when I'm ready to return to operational status. That's not a request." As Sarah finished speaking the door to the director office closed behind her. I think that was the nicest conversation I've ever had with the director. Probably because it wasn't really a discussion…
Sarah no longer felt the need for formalities with the new Director. Not only had he put her in this state of purgatory. She'd learned before leaving for South America, he only had one more year of service in the CIA as she did. If she had any desire for his job she could have it in a heart beat. The Director of National Intelligence had offered it to heron two occasions. Sarah had of course turned it down. Putting aside the fact that it was generally a seat you kept till you keeled over into a likely early grave, the position would put her in the spotlight and that would make her and Chuck an impossibility. No, she'd toil away in the trenches until her time was up.
0004.12 A.L.C.
Washington D.C.
Sarah's Apartment
Today had not been a good day. She'd had a bad scare. Sarah had as she often found herself doing sitting in front of a terminal in the office she'd sequestered during her self-approved vacation. The red dot blinking of the screen accompanied by strings of numbers in the various corners of the display indicating location elevation, temperatures and speed/heading all reading out various and ever changing cycles of numbers. The dot blinked out like it always did. It didn't come back. What the?! The Chip operated on its own minute power source. It could operate for a month without drawing power from the device. The improbability of it going dead coupled with the currently logged speed and height of the device caused an instant panic. Chuck had been flying over the pacific when the device simply stopped registering. Sarah went into overdrive. Accessing the FAA's flight computers and logs Sarah pinpointed the flight she had verified earlier.
Still flying normally...Ok, the plane didn't crash. Why isn't it working? Sarah pulled up the tracking program again and ping-ed the device.
Despite Sarah's panicked state a memory of her time with Chuck slipped into her mind as she pressed the button again to test the device's responsiveness. "Again, Comrade. One - ping - only." The face and voice of Sean Connery in a submarine flashing through her mind remembering the comfortable feeling of snuggling next to Chuck on the couch as they had watched The Hunt for Red October for the third or fourth time. Sarah snapped out of the memory. She needed to focus on the present.
The red light began blinking on the screen again. Seconds later the readings surrounding the visual location of the subject came back on line as they re-calibrated and adjusted with the reacquisition of the signal.
A dialog box appeared in the center of the console's screen.
__________________________________________________________
I "Device Status: Active. Fully functional. I
I Target loss due to: Scheduled Satellite program update and reset. I
I Target reacquired at: 0945:43 09122013 GMT I
I Total Target loss elapsed time: 1 min 54 seconds I
I Mission: Within operating parameters" I
__________________________________________________________
Sarah forced herself to begin to breath normally again. She had unconsciously held her breath during the whole incident. She leaned back in her chair forcing herself to relax. This wouldn't even be an issue if I was THERE. Sarah chastised herself for thinking such ridiculously irrational thoughts. There wasn't anything I could have done to stop a plane from crashing.
Sarah sat at her desk staring at the screen before eventually turning it off. Sarah pulled out several books and notepads and began pouring over her notes from the cipher books she 'borrowed' from the headquarters library. She was relatively satisfied now with her ability to set up ciphers. She'd start simple and get his attention first. Checking his location she noted that he was in L.A. Her mind drifted to their last night together. She relived the anguish she'd felt when she got the order to 'leave with no contact'. She had been determined to communicate as much of her feelings as she could before disappearing in the morning. The satisfied and exhausted look that Chuck had plastered on his face as they fell asleep in each others arms that night had carried her through many nights.
___
0003.4 A.S.L.
China
Beijing Capitol International Airport Terminal 3
Chuck walked out of the newest BCIA terminal and hailed a taxi. He had long ago learned to pack what he needed in carry-on bags, making the trip from the gate to the curb a breeze. No more relying on the airlines to actually get the bags into the same plane as him. He'd lost several pieces of luggage that way. As Chuck held his hand up in the air attempting to signal the closest available vehicle he was reminded of the 2008 Olympics and the huge deal that was made of the smog issue. Not much has been done about it. In reality there wasn't much that could be done except some kind of radical shift away from hydrocarbons as a source of fuel. Like that would ever happen. Chuck had thought briefly about bringing along one of those white surgical masks to lessen the impact of the dreadful air quality. Might as well get the full experience. If the athletes can do it, I can. Chuck had finally decided after falling behind on numerous expeditions, climbs and hikes that some measure of exercise would be of benefit. Not to mention that the doctors in his family had been hinting not so lightly that he wasn't getting any younger. Heart attacks, muscle atrophy, etc, etc... Chuck had added simple calisthenics and running to his daily routine. He never thought he would, but jogging in the morning had become one of his favorite parts of the day. With the exception of his ear buds he could leave everything behind and concentrate. It was just him, his breathing and putting one foot in front of the other. He'd started with a simple mile, leaving him severely winded the first dozen or so times. Now, two years later, Chuck wouldn't bother to run if he didn't have time for at least five miles. Chuck had finally found a use for his gangly legs and lanky awkward frame.
A dark sedan pulled up to the curb in front of Chuck, cutting off the taxi attempting to respond to Chuck's raised hand. He was mid step in an attempt to maneuver around the offending car when an unfamiliar voice scared him stiff.
"Mr. Carmichael?" A voice called out from inside the car. Chuck froze, his body tensed, coiled ready to strike at the mention of his old code name, training and latent skills long dormant in his body surfaced to meet the threat. He quickly weighed his options, stay and fight against an opponent of unknown skill and strength or bolt for the terminal. This isn't going to be good. He was leaning towards bolting.
"Mr. Carmichael, I'm Station Chief Marcus Brantley. I'm Agent in charge at the Beijing American Embassy. I take it you've never been here before? I got here as quickly as I could. I'm glad I caught you, the Director would have my ass." The agent was clearly more than a little flustered. "You passport is flagged for executive escort within country. Obviously you don't have to, but the powers that be require that I offer you an escort and transportation during your stay here. If you want I can take you to your hotel and explain on the way." Agent Brantley took a deep breath as he finished.
"Do you have ID Agent Brantley?" Chuck unfroze as he asked, still quite wary of the strange man claiming to be some kind of Station Chief. He'd had a similar experience when he'd landed in Russia and had been truly scared for his life during the initial contact. A quick call to NSA headquarters had cleared his doubts, though. Before the call he was sure it was some element of Fulcrum back to haunt him for the hell Team Chuck had rained down on them. The government never REALLY leaves you alone does it?
"Oh, right sorry." Brantley pulled out his CIA identification badge and let Chuck take a good look at it. Chuck had already started dialing the NSA director's desk phone as he took in the name and badge number. After relaying the information the waiting agent's credentials were verified and the call ended. Chuck through his bags into the rear of the car and pulled himself in after them.
"Thanks for the ride Agent Brantley. If you knew anything about my past you'd understand the lack of arbitrarily placed trust. I'm staying at the Raffles." Even in the early Beijing morning traffic gridlock stretched out the 30 km trip to over an hour and a half. The diplomatic plates maybe bought them ten minutes. The situation regarding the diplomatic status applied to his passport was explained in detail.
Agent Brantley was a bit long winded Chuck had decided. He summarized the situation in head. The diplomatic status on his passport only came in to play in countries where he was likely at risk; Russia, China, South Africa, Iran and North Korea. Like I'd ever go to North Korea or Iran for that matter. Interesting, that at least explains the Russia scare. I wonder what's so dangerous about South Africa. I guess I'll save on taxis while I'm here, although I could do without the agency shadow.
"I'm going to take a risk, here, and surmise that the shadow is somehow non-compulsory?" Chuck asked already knowing what kind of answer he was about to receive.
"That's correct sir, unless you elect to stay within the walls of the embassy compound. Since I'm sure that's not in your plans, the shadow stays in place. It's not only for your safety but for my piece of mind. My career would be worth less than garbage if something happened to you without the shadow present."
Chuck wondered in his mind as he listened to Brantley make light of his lack of privacy. I wonder if this is a 'gift' from General Beckman or the standard, 'you used to know all our secrets' protocol? Chuck spoke up as the agent finished, "I understand. I'd appreciate it if you'd confer to the unlucky agent that I'd prefer be as least aware of his presence as possible."
"As is our policy Mr. Carmichael." Agent Brantley quick responded. He half expected the man to make some crazy request, which unknown to his mystery guest would have to be complied with. Brantley wasn't about to let the man know he practically had carte blanc over the embassy and its subsequent facilities. He'd never seen a man with as high a clearance and theoretical rank in his twenty-five years in the field.
"It's Chuck, Agent Brantley. People call me Chuck." Chuck smiled at the agent in front of him. He's hiding something. Nothing sinister, I don't think, but worth withholding for some reason or another. Chuck opened the door indicating his intent to leave the back of the opulent sedan that had transported him to his hotel. "Since you're my wheels here I'm going to be leaving for my first destination at zero nine hundred tomorrow. I'll be in the lobby. I'm sure it won't be you chauffeuring me. Just have the agent tasked wait at the counter. I'll approach him."
Agent Brantley nodded to Chuck and waited till the man had entered the lobby of the hotel before driving off. Who the hell is this guy? He operates like an agent, looks like an analyst, and has rank rivaling the president.
Chuck went through the process of checking into his room and made his way toward his suite. Now that Chuck had switched from camping to something befitting a guy with the kind of cash he had squirreled away, he had opted to stay in rather opulent suites in nothing short of five star hotels. This place was a far cry from the dirt he'd been practically living in for the past five years. It was a welcome change. Chuck had recently fancied himself as getting too old to be roughing it anymore. I'm going to do some digging on this Agent Brantley and finally look into this whole diplomatic status B.S.. Chuck looked carefully at the room he was standing in.
The latest brush with The Agency had him on edge. Little things that weren't supposed to were standing out to him. The gate of the man that crossed in front of me in the lobby was off, was that the bulge of gun at his back? The tone of voice of the people in the room next door had risen and fallen in the last thirty-seconds. Were they bickering or fighting? Third floor suite, entrance midway from the elevator, with the closest exit being the stairs to the left. Approximate time for ex-fil: 2 minutes running flat out. Staying on the third floor meant he was 26 feet from the ground at the balcony. The heavy bushes lining the pathway that led past the balcony would cushion his fall but slow an escape. A bed sheet would cut the distance to 20 feet and control his fall. I can fall that distance without injury. He could recite to himself all the license plates parked outside the hotel, along with their make and models. There was more to consider... Chuck shook his head and forced himself out of this depressing state of mind. I'm not in danger. This is not a mission. Relax. Enjoy your damn trip already. Damn CIA! He hated what the spy world did to him. It was like there was someone one else with him in his mind. Something else controlled him when his mind drifted back to that heightened state. He felt like…an animal.
Chuck sat on the edge of the bed and wrung his hands out before pressing his thumb against his temple, vainly attempting to massage away the onset of what would assuredly be a wicked headache. He fished through his backpack and brought out his laptop. He remembered why he picked this particular hotel. It was for the Gigabit Wi-fi the website had boasted. Can't live without the internet. He would use his currently "on" agent senses to ferret out the truth on his so called diplomatic status. Then he could order a stiff drink and begin his trip. Chuck had learned the hard way that the government wasn't ever really looking out for him. There was something to be gained or something important to be kept for the kind of trouble they went through to create this shell for him. Chuck had grown up a bit since the L.A. days and developed the social shell he should have a long time ago. He was still the same caring giving Chuck on the inside, but it took a bit of work to get to his soft gooey center.
_____
0005.1 A.S.L.
JetBlue Airways B61304
Flying over Colorado
Chuck was, for once, pleased with a decision the FAA had made. Apparently they had fixed the "interference" problem that cell phones and electronic devices had always caused during landings and takeoffs. Chuck had been more inclined to believe the government had finally realized that cell phones don't make airplanes crash. We'll mine could… of course most people don't have my program installed on their iSat. Calling up a browser on his phone he set to figuring out the codes. After being called out by Anna on the perilous nature of his Nerd status he had buckled down and really thought about the codes. It had helped as well that Anna had cryptically mentioned Sarah in her reply. After a few minutes searching and typing he'd figured out the second one "Call me 4846157113". At the realization of Anna's clue he tried to call the number. He got an out of service notification after hearing several clicks on the line. Great, this call is going cost me. I bet this phone call just got routed around the world and back…
The new code was giving him a little more trouble but he had it partially nailed a few minutes later. Mentioning 'Caesar' made it almost too easy. Now, if I could just figure out the second part… BINGO! …thank you Google translator! Why the heck was it in French?
The cipher is right but something else is wrong somewhere… all I got was "Don't ignore me Chuck. ____" There's something wrong in the translation with the rest of it… Well, whoever you are, I'm not ignoring you. Bring on the ciphers.
Chuck wasn't sure how he felt as he got of the plane in L.A. As he moved though the terminal he felt a little conflicted. He was certainly elated to have solved the puzzles sent to him. Unfortunately, they raised more questions than they answered. Who are you and what do you want? Why the heck do you miss me? Chuck couldn't make a whole lot of sense out of it. If it was Sarah then why was she being so cryptic? Why not just call him? Why ask for a call to a dead number? If she was worried about people listening in there were easier ways around it then archaic ciphers.
Chuck's thoughts were interrupted by the blast of heat that hit him squarely in the chest. The doors of the terminal had opened and he was hit with a wave of L.A. summer heat. It was a dry sapping heat. Chuck liked it. I need to send a message to Anna. Don't want my geek card revoked.
___
2009.10 A.D.
Maracaibo, Venezuela
3rd Warehouse from the wharf
"Stay in the car, Casey." Chuck said with glee. Casey produced a rather dangerous sounding grunt and attempted to grab Chuck's shirt. Chuck was already out of reach and headed for the warehouse. Not only was he in charge of the mission, Casey had been a little out of sorts due his cavalier attitude he'd taken to Chuck's warning about the local water. Chuck finally had his revenge for all the, 'Stay in the Car, Chuck' speeches. Chuck tapped his head as he responded to look of death emanating from his partner. "This never lies buddy. We'll pick you up some Pepto on the way back. Keep in touch. Sidling up to the edge of the dirty warehouse Chuck let his eyes adjust more fully to the night time. The moon was out but only just. When it peaked out from between a solitary cloud only a sliver of it's full self was visible to the human eye. Chuck had planned this mission with that in mind. The less light the better. If everything went according to plan they'd be in and out and no one would be the wiser. The shipping container they were looking for held a lot more than the declared '3mt fertilizer'.
Chuck's grin faded a bit as he recalled Casey's quip about the mission.
"Look's like your finally going to get in 'the shit' out there Chuckles, you excited? Casey had paused mid sentence to frame the important words with his fingers in making mock quote signs. Sarah had shot Chuck a menacing glare at the revelation.
"Chuck what aren't you telling me?" Sarah asked him.
"Uh, we, uh, kind of have to dig through tons, and I do mean literally tons, of fertilizer to find the device." Chuck responded sheepishly.
"Great, when exactly were you going to tell me this? I packed my nice mission clothes. Now I'm going to have to burn another pair…sometimes, Chuck, you're going to actually have to share EVERYTHING you know about a mission." Sarah said as she tossed her pencil at him. He caught it with ease and drilled into the exit sign above Casey's head. Chuck had been beyond elated to have inherited the knife throwing trick from the Intersect. He had always been enraptured by that particular skill of Sarah's.
Directing his biggest Chuck smile at Sarah he responded happily. "I'm sorry, Sarah, I will. Hey, at least we will finally get to see Casey literally shoveling crap."
Noticing the rather serious 'I'm going to cause you bodily harm' look on Casey's face instinct took over.
Chuck ran for the door of the Castle as quickly as he could.
Back from his trip down memory lane, Chuck inched forward along the wall. He had detected a rather sophisticated surveillance system during their recon earlier that week. Casey had been ecstatic. Camera's a surveillance systems seemed to be the only thing that ever elicited real emotions from his hulking partner. Casey was in heaven, Chuck was sure. There were motion detectors and IR enabled cameras everywhere. It had made Chuck and Sarah's job a bit harder. They couldn't sneak around in the dark in front of the cameras. They would have to completely avoid the camera arcs to stay out of the limelight. Pulling his sleeve back revealing his father's parting gift to him, the screen automatically dimming to match the ambient light, Chuck keyed up the quick program on his wrist computer. He'd whipped up a simple program the night before to track the surveillance camera arcs. Counting silently in his head he nodded to Sarah who was employing similar evasion tactics at the other end of the hanger-like warehouse. Chuck burst into action. Running silently around the end of the warehouse as he pulled a throwing knife from his belt, Chuck leaped over the hood of a decrepit car in a headfirst dive, rolling though it and coming to his feet, a millisecond later the guard who had been dutifully standing guard at the door at the other side of the warehouse front slid down the wall and lay in a heap, the gun that had been in his hands already being disassembled in the hands of Chuck. Placing the pieces of the weapon in the lap of the dead goon, Chuck retrieved his favorite throwing knife from the base of the guard's skull, cleaning and stowing it in one motion. His other hand had already fished out his lock pick. Squatting down into position he picked the lock as he flattened his body out against the door. The camera over his head was returning from its pass across the dockyard. Sarah is not beating me to the bad guys this time. It's time for the lock picking practice to pay off. A second or two later Chuck, after checking his wrist again, slipped in through the door only opening it the few requisite inches required to allow his frame to slide though it. The warehouse was almost completely empty. The two crates in the southern corner, his target, were already open. I hope we're not too late. Casey didn't see anything enter of leave the building since the target arrived. Again moving along the wall avoiding the small amount of moonlight filtering in through the filmed over windows at the top of the curved ceiling. So far so good. He noticed the small from of now, not for cover super spy girlfriend, slip into the other end of the building.
"Don't start Chuck. You only had one guard to deal with. I had three. Now, meet me at the crates" Sarah said in a whisper over Chuck's earpiece.
Chuck nodded silently and slipped through the shadows towards the crates. Chuck made it nearly halfway when he sensed something was wrong. He motioned for Sarah to stop. Sarah had learned to trust Chuck's hunches. They had saved their lives at least twice that she knew of. Moving his hand to the small of the back he grasped and fingered off the safety of the gun tucked there. Chuck began retreating to the shadows again, suddenly wary of something. Something wasn't right. Chuck focused on the containers again and focused again, allowing the mission details to swim past his vision. The cargo box dimension's in the mission profile are either wrong or this isn't the cargo piece we're looking for. Chuck relayed that information over his wrist computer to Casey in the surveillance car.
Sarah had moved back into the shadows, mirroring Chuck's movements. She noticed Chuck draw into himself slightly. She knew he was accessing the Intersect to ferret out what was bothering him. She took in her surroundings more objectively. Foolishly she had been relying on Chuck to provide her situational awareness. She'd been relying on him more and more lately. She certainly didn't mind it but it was on occasions like this causing her to fall into a form of apathy. Her ability to take in a situation fully and quickly had been a huge part of her success up until this point. She needed to get that back, fast. She couldn't protect Chuck if she didn't know what was going on. As she took in rest of her surroundings she noticed the web of trip wires lining the floor around the crates. Oh my god, Chuck was inches from that before he stopped. Sarah quickly signaled to Chuck and pointed out the trap on the floor. His eyes went wide at the realization.
Chuck typed into wrist console again and notified Casey that they were pulling back. Someone was expecting company. Chuck was positive the welcome gift wasn't planned for them. No one knew they were even in the country. They had scuba-ed up to the docks from a boat nearly a mile out to sea. They would wait and see who else came for the package.
They didn't have long to wait. Casey keyed in an alert to Chuck indicating that two vehicles had just pulled up to the perimeter fence of the wharf. The men exiting the vehicles were heavily armed.
As they stood waiting for the inevitable revealing of their target, Sarah stood at the edge of a shallow pool of light. Chuck was momentarily shocked into dis-action. Chuck gulped, as a shiver running down his spine. He'd forgotten how absolutely stunning Sarah looked when she was on mission, in agent mode. She stood resolutely, favoring her left leg, her arms effortlessly at her sides, a gun in her right her hand gripped the tool loosely but surely, her left arm hung loosely but ready for action, as always. The light from the window above highlighted her face enough for him to see her eyes and face staring straight forward purposeful and resolute. Her lips were drawn together in straight line portraying a cross between concentration and worry. The form fitting mission clothes didn't hide her curves any and... Chuck needed to stop looking or something very off mission was going to happen. He ripped his eyes from her form. How again did this awe inspiring woman even know he existed? Chuck looked away. She was his personal angel of death.
Chuck distracted himself from the captivating sight by clearing the chamber of his own gun. As he checked it for function and reloaded it the warehouse was suddenly began filling with noise and light. Chuck stole a glance back to where he'd just seen Sarah, knowing she would have already moved back into the fading shadows, out of sight. Chuck scrambled as gracefully as he could manage back towards the safety of the wall and the darkness still clinging to it.
Chuck mentally clicked off pictures of the personnel that had entered the building and stored them in the Intersect. He would pull them up later and sketch them out. It was another gift from the Intersect that would leave with it when it was gone. Chuck couldn't draw to save his life up to that point.
Chuck hadn't flashed on any of the men in the warehouse. Even the apparent boss didn't trigger a flash. Once again referring to the ever useful wrist computer he relayed as much to his two team mates before he and Sarah melted back into the shadows and out of the hangar. During there wait Chuck had figured out that the tripwires were indeed a trap and they were attached to decent amount of C4. Chuck and Sarah didn't feel the need to get blown up with whoever the trap had been set for. They would retreat to a safe distance and wait for the fireworks. Two minutes later Chuck was nearly knocked down from the shock-wave of the blast. What was left of the hangar was a smoldering mess of ashes and crap. The stink was bad, really bad. Chuck couldn't imagine a much worse smell than cooked cow crap.
He spoke into his microphone, "I think it's time to go guys. The package is either somewhere else or blown into nothing."
"I agree" Sarah's voice chimed in over the team's earpieces. "It's time to get out of here. The police are likely already on thier way."
Sarah and chuck met up with each other as they headed for the waiting car. Chuck sidled up next to her as they jogged together towards the rendezvous site. "You do look incredibly sexy when you're in agent mode, Agent Walker." Chuck whispered as he leaned toward her.
"Is that right Agent Carmichael, and what pray tell, do you plan on doing about it?" Sarah whispered back into his ear as they approached the car.
Chuck's face broke into a huge grin and his eyebrows broke into Sarah's kryptonite. The Bartowski Eyebrow Dance.
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A/N: As promised to kayla101blue I included her in the story. You'll find that I threw in a little "code" to help it out. Ok it's not really code it's just in a different language…just like the third cipher.
Thanks for reading. Good karma to those who review...bad karma for those who...well you get the idea.