FATE
Chapter 4
A/N: SEVERE CHARAH WARNING IN EFFECT, proceed with caution. Otherwise, enjoy! This was originally MUCH longer. So the double Charah got put into chapter 5. It was just too long. It's definitely strong T ahead so keep that in mind. Thanks to Kroblues for the beta.
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Time stamp missing
Location data corrupted
Partial report
Surveillance report corrupted from time stamp 1632 local time till 0832 local time.......partial file recovery transcript available....
The morning sunlight spilt through the sheer curtains pulled mostly across the window and onto the bed sheets and across the bare skin of the goddess lying entangled between him and the mattress. He tentatively slid his fingers along the visible skin of the lithe form draped across him. Tracing unrecognizable patterns on her damp skin with his fingers, he noted with delight the perspiration of their night together had not fully dissipated, trapped in between their bodies. He lifted and shifted his hips slightly grazing against the intersection of her legs beginning his attempt to wake her in the most pleasurable way he could manage. He craned his head down as far as he could manage capturing her upper lips between his. Sucking lightly, he pulled it further in between his nibbling softly at the edges. Sensing her exit her slumber he shifted slowly further along bringing his arm around her waist. Placing his hand on the small of her back he pulled her hips up off the bed and up against him as he moved again to straddle her. He leaned his head back slowly releasing her from the extended and acrobatic kiss. As he slid his free hand up the inside of her leg she moaned slightly as he stopped just short of it's likely target. It stayed there clamped across her leg, his thumb brushing ever so lightly against her.
"Good Morning" he said, hovering as closely as he could above her without making contact.
She groaned and pulled him down against her. "You better have more than that planned. You leave me like that and I'm likely to use this knife in unpleasant ways." As she finished his eye caught the glint of a knife pressed gently against one his most prized body parts. Sliding slowly down her frame stopping just above her belly button as he began planting a slow and thorough trail of kisses south of the border. Pausing slightly, "I would dream of it. I'm leaving you there." He sprung off the bed as he finished his trail of kisses, smiling as widely as he could manage. The knife swinging slowly between his index finger and thumb.
A growl emanated from the bed as he dove for the doorway of the bathroom only just closing it in time. Glimpsing the flying form of a woman launching herself a from the bed at him.
"I hope you plan on living in there for the next year. You come out of there and your a dead man!" The woman's voice yelled through the door.
"Or, you could just join me in here. I think both of us could use a shower. I kind of stink after last night." The man issued in rebuttal.
The door opened slowly and she peeked her head through in time to catch one of the funniest sights she'd ever seen. Leg cocked across his body one hand desperately trying to cover his up his family jewels his other hand covering his face. Hs body cringed in anticipation of an inevitable beating. He looked through his hand to catch the sight of her practically balled up on the floor, fits of mirth racking her body, in an uncontrollable bout of laughter.
"Babe?"
She just continued to laugh. He looked a bit dejected; he had been looking forward to some quality shower time.
"Um, I'm going to set up breakfast." The man offered.
Suddenly recovering from her laughing fit and responded, "The hell with that. In the shower mister. I don't actually need the knife, you know."
The grin returned quickly to his face, "Yes ma'am."
Disappearing behind the curtain of the shower, he yelped at the insanely cold water.
The laughing began again, until the curtains flew open and the jet of frigid water was directed towards her. A look of mock rage adorned her face as she jumped into the shower with him grasping at the controls as she wrapped her arms around his body, trapping him against the wall of the shower. The water temperature quickly returned to a more agreeable level as she reached for the shampoo spinning around and holding over her shoulder for the man to take.
"Wash" The woman demanded as he took the bottle from her.
He began to slowly massage soap through her hair mostly abandoning his task as he placed several kisses along her neck. The shampooing was quickly forgotten as she ground herself back against him rocking her hips up and down. Pausing a moment, she looked expectantly over her should at her lover waiting for something specific to happen. He only smiled as he grasped her waist, pulling himself into her.
He got his quality shower time......corrupted file portion detected.
The Red Sun was setting as he boarded the plane. Looking back one more time at her he let the door close behind him as the Lear began moving towards the runway.
.........partial file recover end.
Slamming shut the laptop the laptop cursing could be heard as a figure moved away from his desk. "Fucking Chinese crap tech..."
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0001.2 A.S.L.
Vancouver, B.C.
Highway 99
Chuck was as usual, treating the local speed restrictions as loose and disregardable guidelines. However at this stage he was only begin held back by the physical limitations of his vehicle. Chuck took the Ferrari 599 GTB's twelve cylinder engine up to its rev limiter as he popped the clutch scooting the back end around just a little faster than the manufacturer had intended sending the beautiful machine into a well executed rear wheel slide, moving Chuck along with it as he skirted around a series of slower vehicles. The engine was singing to him as he shot quickly up a particularly straight section of road. Chuck preferred the simplicity of a standard stick shift but the carbon fiber paddle shifters mounted behind the wheel were too sexy too complain about. Dropping the car into six on the straight he was determined the find the advertised top speed of 205 mph, traffic be dammed. The engine's vocals now conducting a well orchestrated and constant scream. He was in such a heated state that not much besides a nuclear attack on his position would have slowed his progress. He had been skiing and his mind had wandered to Sarah's case files. Sarah had been shot. From the mission files it was apparent the incompetent local CIA team had left her hanging and she'd paid for it with a bullet to the leg in order to pull off some damned capture. At the realization he'd been mid run and had nearly taken out a group of skiers as suddenly barreled his way down the mountain. Someone's head is going to roll for this one, and I know just who it's going to be.
Vancouver International Airport
Pulling up to the terminal, red and blue lights trying desperately to catch up to the gunmetal grey sports car that had eluded them for the last half hour. He left the still running Ferrari sitting at the departure terminal valet Chuck slowed his sprint to a trot as he pulled out his all access pass and slid through security toward the private jet departure area. He chartered the first flight that said they could get him into D.C. in less than three hours. The pilot was waiting in the cockpit as Chuck practically jumped into the fuselage of the small twin engine Lear.
"Evening sir, we should be off the ground in two minutes. I've already cleared it with the tower." The pilot said from the cockpit, the copilot pulling closed the cabin door. "We'll be in D.C. sometime after three A.M. their time. Enjoy the ride. It's likely to get a bit bumpy as we'll have the engines at one hundred percent."
Chuck nodded briefly to the copilot as he squeezed himself back into the vacant co-pilot seat. Chuck sat down and picked up the sat phone from its receiver in his captain's chair, simultaneously dialing a memorized number.
"Good evening director. Unsecured. Enjoy your last night as the Director of the CIA." Chuck dropped the phone back into it cradle as he finished delivering his rather cryptic message. He pulled out his iSat and keyed up a line to General Beckman. She's going to come in handy tonight for once. "Black. Secure."
"Beckman. Secure."
"How do you feel about screwing the current CIA director? I know he had a run in with a certain young lady that may or may not be related to you?"
"How did you...never mind. What is it this time Bartowski?"
"I've done an analysis of the currently running and recently concluded operations conducted during this new director's purview. There has been an unacceptable amount of collateral damage and some not so collateral damage that is personally unacceptable to me. I think with your help we can rid the intelligence community of him."
"Send me what you have. If it's enough I doubt he'll hold an office tomorrow. If you ever pull up my personal file again I'll redact Walker's files from the Intersect. I don't need a sanctioned hit to make your life hell Agent Bartowski. Next time call me at damn decent hour." Beckman ended the phone call as she finished speaking. Chuck was going to be in place to witness the disposal of the current CIA director. You screw with the people I care for you screw with me.
Chuck's plane landed ten minutes ahead of schedule. Just enough time to 'run a physical security check' on the CIA headquarters. Chuck was going to leave a little goodbye present for the nearly defunct director.
The note was simple.
"You screw around unnecessarily with Agent Walker's well being and this is what happens. Pass it along."
There was no greeting and no signature, just a clear concise message.
Chuck snuck back out of the building and headed back to the airport. He was going to finish his weekend in the mountain. Sarah was safe and should be for a while. Someday I'll share all this with you, Sarah. You'll pretend to be incensed, I'll apologize. I can't stand to see you mad at me. Just come back to me when you can.
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0006.5 A.S.L.
Simi Valley, CA
Assumption Cemetery
"Colonel John Casey saved my life. Not just once, but day in and day out, for the better part of three years. One might consider that strange since when I met him on a roof of a sky scraper in Los Angeles, he was assigned to eliminate me.
Casey spent the better part of his life ensuring that the freedoms we now enjoy remained intact. He sacrificed his right to a 'normal' life so that we could have it instead. John Casey was a leader, a mentor, a savior and above all a patriot. It's no random event that brings us to Simi Valley, California. Most of us here are fully aware who Casey's hero was. So it should come to no surprise that the former president is interned not three miles from here.
You'd have to know Casey to get this next part, but the people who call him friend will agree, he lived by a code.
These are his life lessons:
1. Life isn't fair. Get over it!
2. Freedom isn't free, someone has to pay the price, and it might as well be you.
3. Things often get worse before they get worse.
4. No whining.
5. Take care of your own business.
6. Sometimes you just need to find your backbone to do the right thing.
7. People who do the right thing aren't heroes; they are just doing the right thing.
8. You are probably not entitled to any thing you didn't work for.
He was a soldier's soldier who would not like this part of the service. He was mostly modest, he really was, and he believed that the best soldier was the soldier who fought quietly for his country, not out of any Hollywood styled sense of patriotism but rather because it was an inherent duty and part of his obligation as a citizen living in this country.
John Casey was not just a hero, but a hero of mine. A friend. One of the saddest parts of soldiering is how many friends become heroes. I think I can safely speak for everyone, when I say we salute you Casey. You were the best kind of soldier. We'll miss you."
As Chuck finished he stumbled from his place at the head of closed casket as it sat ready to be lowered into the ground. He caught himself quickly, moving to his place off to the side. A preacher moved into the space vacated by Chuck as he settled in.
The preacher began, "We gather here today to give thanks for the life of Colonel John Casey, who at times shared his life with us. It is in his memory that we gather and for his life that we are thankful.
Eternal spirit, before whom generations rise and pass away, we find that even in the face of death, our words can be those of thanksgiving. We are thankful for one who shared his life with us...One for whom honor and duty were so important.... For the struggles of life, and for the triumph of character over trial, of courage over difficulty, of faith over sorrow, we give thanks. God grant us such strength in the memory of our friend that we might be thankful for the gift of life that is given to each of us, and in our hearts, may this loss be balanced by thanksgiving for the life that was shared with us. Amen.
So it is that we gather to commemorate the passing of one who was with us and is no more. We keep in our minds and hearts those memories of his life with us; and we commit his body to the ground and his spirit into the keeping of Almighty God."
There was no flag. No crying widow to console. Even the ones who were in attendance seemed irreverently tearless. Anyone watching would have cocked his head in wonderment. A heartfelt speech was given but one seemed all that sad. There were only a handful of people in attendance and they left in silence without words or gestures of condolence being exchanged between each other. Many to separate waiting cars, most of them not looking back before heading off to their respective destinations. Only one person lingered, helping the cemetery workers lower and then cover the casket. One other solitary figure watched the scene, sitting in her car, giving her old partner her own kind of farewell, unnoticed by the other attendees. If Casey could see the attendees he could have been proud. They were the veritable who's who of the intelligence community from the CIA, NSA, DEA, FBI, and the Air Force.
Back on the East coast a star was hung on a wall. The first of its kind, actually. An honor usually reserved solely for those who died during their service in the CIA. His was the first and likely the last to have a star hung from outside the agency.
Sarah had practically ordered the Director to have it hung. After all Casey had spent several years working with the CIA. It was only fitting. She went so far as threatening to put one up herself if it wasn't done officially. The Director who had blanched and dismissed it at first was finally convinced when one of Sarah's knives came to rest not inches from a very sensitive region of his lap.
Chuck finished helping the curators with the final shovelfuls of dirt now covering his once protector. He smiled slightly as the Intersect allowed him to review the fallen soldiers last hours. He had gone doing what he love most, gun play. He had taken a bullet to cover one of his men left vulnerable to enemy fire during a rather intense firefight with insurgents deep in the mountains of Afghanistan. Tough as ever he, according to the report, had lit up and begun smoking his victory cigar as his wounds took him under. I guess you're not going to make it the ten year reunion, Casey. It's too bad. I'll miss you, you big insufferable teddy bear.
_____
Sarah used every ounce of self restraint she had within her to remain in the car and not run into Chuck's arms. It was torture being this close and not being able to approach him, talk to him, and let him hold her. She stopped her train of thought. It was a bit irreverent considering why she was there. She waited for an hour after she lost sight of Chuck. She moved slowly to the sight of John Casey's grave. Ensuring she was alone she approached the site. She knelt down next to grave, her knees pulled up to her chest. I don't have a lot of friends Casey. You were a good partner, and an even better friend. One couldn't ask for more dedicated patriot. Sarah would have said it aloud, but speaking feelings weren't exactly something she was good at, let alone talking out loud to a dead guy.
Sarah moved to her feet, her spy instincts alerted. She scanned the area as nonchalantly as possible, but came up empty. She moved to her car ensuring herself again that whatever had alerted her was a fluke. She pulled open the door to her car and let herself fall into her seat. Sighing deeply she put her head on the steering wheel, her hands gripping it on either side of her head as it rested there. After a moment she gathered herself together and went to turn on the ignition. She realized she left her keys in her pocket and reached in to grab them. Next to her keys was a piece of paper. Not this again.
She pulled out the contents of her pocket and separated the note from her keys. Sticking the key into the ignition she started up the car and pulled away from the curb. She placed the note on steering wheel and unfolded it. It was an address of sorts.
"PSC 46 Box 36"
That was all it said. She recognized the format from several packages that she had received after going through the military mail system during her time overseas. Sarah wondered if it was the "-CB" that had so stealthily left her a note last time. Part of Sarah was angry at this mystery note leaver, and part was intrigued by the more than apparent skills of stealth this person possessed. He or she had snuck up on her, twice. Both times she had been fully alert. To say her pride was a bit damaged would be an understatement. Parts of her may have been conflicted but all of her hoped it was Chuck. If it was, the rest truly didn't matter.
_____
Chuck watched from a distance as Sarah's car pulled out from the curb. He had almost given himself away when he'd seen a look of real anguish on Sarah's face as she sat next to Casey's grave. Chuck had moved forward suddenly, no doubt almost giving himself away. It broke his heart to see her like that and not be able to comfort her. A silent tear fell down his face. He had fought internally with himself for the past hour on whether to just go out and meet her. In the end his overly developed sense of right and wrong had won out. He had sworn not to meet with her and he would keep his promise. No matter how much he wanted to speak with her. A few years ago he would have simply broken the rules and gone rushing out to meet her. But time is a teacher of many things and one thing he had learned was that when he went against the rules bad things invariably happened. Since his and her happiness relied on bad things not happening between them, he would simply wait. Of course, that didn't mean they could talk to each other from a great distance.
His father had been right, he was a better engineer than him and great things were in his destiny. Chuck had spent nearly three years perfecting his latest project. The one point six million bit encrypted cell phone waiting for her was one of two. The biometrics alone would keep even the most determined hacker out of the phones system. On top of that, Chuck's encryption was decades ahead of the latest government anti-intrusion methods, and any conversation had on it was without a doubt as secure as could be imagined. On top of everything else the phone had the latest in bug and listening device jamming onboard and would mask even the most sophisticated listening devices. After Sarah's attempts at contacting him through code he was compelled to make something more viable. The codes she was using were, unfortunately rather rudimentary and if intercepted would be broken in minutes by the egg heads at NSA. Chuck had finally worked around the routing protocols embedded in the text messages and had found the source number. He had initially considered sending her something personal but sighting his earlier concerns he was able to dissuade himself and had faked a rebuking reply from the NSA offices. He made sure the NSA or CIA would never catch wind of it. It wouldn't do to get Sarah in trouble. He was uncomfortable with the obvious consternation and worry it would no doubt cause her, but it had been the safest way, and above all Sarah's safety was his concern.
Chuck checked his surroundings again. It was an old habit. One he wished he didn't have. He donned his helmet and straddled his new ride. After returning to L.A. he'd needed a new one. The old one had a certain notoriety that he didn't need. It had been a bit of a challenge to find the right one. The highly customized 2006 Ducati 999R was, in Chuck's opinion, the pinnacle of Italian ingenuity and awesomeness. It was more Carbon fiber than anything else. 'Custom' didn't begin to explain this bike. He'd have to tone it down now. Having such a distinct ride would make it harder to evade the local blokes. Starting the bike up Chuck enjoyed for a second the deep growl of the exotic twin and tight organized clatter of the rather unique dry clutch spinning in its socket waiting patiently to spring the waiting cycle into action.
Dropping the bike into gear Chuck grinned again, it felt like he was returning to some of his past. Before the dark years...well they're still dark without her. Chuck moved into traffic about a block or so behind his target. Unable to let the sight of her go he decided, however unfair, that he would spend some, albeit one-sided, time with his Sarah. Moving through traffic he followed her to her hotel. He had kind of hoped she was staying the night, but minutes later she was back in her car, obviously on her way to somewhere in a hurry. He thought maybe she was rushing off on a last minute mission or simply returning to whatever mission she may currently be on. Either way, he'd know in a week or so. He was scheduled for an update. It was the clinching move in his gambit to finally rid himself of the 'missions'. Continuing with the Intersect updates until he either was able to make a standalone Intersect or he was unable to recall the information anymore. Bryce, albeit with the best intentions, really did screw me for life. 'You're a hero' blah, blah, blah... I fell for that one hook, line and sinker.
Chuck couldn't contain his curiosity; he wanted to know where she was headed. He was due for a vacation and he'd decided he would accompany Sarah where ever she was headed. Probably somewhere exotic, knowing the new, new Director. It was time again to let the Intersect work for him.
Chuck hadn't been a good boy recently. At about the third year mark of the dark years as Chuck had now coined them Chuck had finally managed to add write access into the Intersect uploads. After rigging up a way for a computer to read his neural patterns, he'd created a way for his file connections and thoughts to be turned into returned updates for banks of analysts to waste days poring over. Chuck had decided on the project during one of trips after becoming incensed with the General obsessive need for instant 'mission reports'. While using his 'skills' to kill was the worst part of his life, the aftershocks brought on by reliving it for Beckman was a close second. If he could avoid any portion of time interacting with that illustrious and demanding midget he would do just about anything to get to that place.
Moving again into traffic he tempted fate and pulled up alongside Sarah's car revving the throttle up a bit. It was purely a testosterone driven move and was certainly ill advised. Lucky for Chuck it was enough out of character than Sarah didn't pick up on it. Chuck wasn't looking for attention or even a reaction. He just needed to connect with her, somehow. He accelerated off the line and faded to the side traffic toward the airport. He'd ensure she was still headed that way through his rear camera. Chuck resisted the urge to show off again and moved into position in short term parking, grateful that motorcycles were able to park just about anywhere. The rental lot was all the way in long term parking but he wasn't going to take any chances. Chuck broke into a jog from the parking structure to the main terminal and headed for the security desk there was no way to know whether she was staying domestic or going global.
Chuck was patient with the Airport security agent, it wasn't every day that someone threw a badge with a bunch of fancy words on it in his face and he knew he was just doing his job. Despite that, Chuck was eager to get in the booth. He didn't want to miss his chance to relocate Sarah. The agent came back with his badge in hand; obviously apprehensive for holding Chuck up with his desire to ensure his job remained intact.
"Geez, I'm sorry..." The security guard glanced again at the badge. "Mr. Carmichael. I didn't mean to impede an investigation; I've just never seen that kind of badge before. I'm sorry again, Mr. Carmichael, please come in and do what you do. I'm going to grab some coffee, you want some?"
Chuck laughed a small laugh and patted the guards back in a friendly gesture. "It's completely fine, dude. I'd love some coffee. Don't worry; I'd have done exactly what you did in your shoes. I'll take it with cream." As Chuck finished his response he moved into the security room. Apparently they had been informed of his arrival as they were seemingly waiting for his command. Chuck noted this; he'd only used his badge once and was a bit taken back by the reception he was being treated to. So this is what it's like to be "an agent"... Recovering from his moment of revelry he kicked into action. "OK, people this is a national security matter, detail are classified as you'd expect. I have a person of interest. I need to know where she is and track her progress. I want to know who she talks to, bumps into and gives a second glance to. She should be unmolested and left completely alone. No one approaches or talks to the subject. Now, who's got a terminal with upload capability?
"Uh, sir, that's me."
"Good." Chuck moved to the terminal and uploaded several profile pictures of Sarah into the system.
"Okay, facial recognition should pick her up soon. She was last seen in the long term parking headed this way. Do we have the shuttle video feeds available?"
"Yes, sir, I'm pulling them up now. Please, look at the screens to the left. Chuck spent the next few seconds scanning the dozens of feeds now scrolling through the large set of screens on the surveillance wall. "There." Exclaimed one of the security guards, pointing at one of the lower feeds on the screen.
"Good work, now we just track her through the terminal. I don't need to know her name so don't bring it up. Just inform me of her destination upon arrival and anyone she interacts with.
You with the command screen. Be aware that when this is over I'm going to personally supervise the erasure of this footage from your records."
"Yes, sir. Will do." Responded the obviously senior technician.
"All right, I'm going to step out for a second..." Chuck stopped mid sentence, his face a mixture of ghost and dismay.
"Um, everyone stop. Did you know Osama bin Laden was in terminal 3?" Now that's truly funny, international terrorists use Horizon Air. That's just freaking hilarious. "All right, obviously this trumps my previous target. We'll leave one person on the blonde everyone else focus on the grey haired hunchback ordering a mocha-frap at the Starbucks. I've got some phone calls to make."
Chuck moved out of the surveillance room and placed a call to his least favorite person. Of all the airports and of all the times...
"Beckman. Secure."
"Black. Secure"
"Bartowski, this had better be good. I'm rather busy at the moment."
"Oh this is good trust me, but...I've got a condition." Chuck waited for a moment for effect before continuing. "I've got a certain individual under surveillance that's, shall we say, of great interest to the U.S. government. I'm not going to help however, unless you meet my terms, and believe me, you screw this one away and you'll have more than your job to worry about."
"Mr. Bartowski, are saying that you are going to withhold information from your employer at what seems like the peril of the public's safety?"
"Exactly, Ms. Beckman. That's exactly what I'm saying."
"OK, Bartowski, go ahead, try me."
"I'm requiring that the asinine restriction of my contact with a CIA agent Sarah Walker be lifted on both ends. I'll wait for confirmation. Oh, to sweeten the deal I'm sending you the identification of my current target." Chuck smiled to himself, for his rather ingenious off the cuff plan. Pulling out his phone he texted one line of text to Beckman's personal cell phone. A number he wasn't supposed to know. Hrmf..that'll piss her off.
Chuck held the phone to his ear as he moved from the hallway back into the surveillance room. After nodding to the technician in charge and being directed to the screens currently following their mark he let his gaze direct toward the lone screen following the progress of his favorite blonde. Okay, blonde aside, his favorite thing of all.
"Mr. Bartowski....Mr. Bartowski are you there?!"
"I'm here, Ms. Beckman, what's the good news?" Chuck said, using the 'Ms.' for emphasis, highlighting what would surely be her new title if she screwed this up.
"I'm going to acquiesce to your request, Mr. Bartowski, but...only if you are successful in bringing your target. If you screw this up, I'm going to burn your world to the ground."
"That's awful nice of you General Beckman, but you and I both know that burning me would be the end of, well, everything you care about. This has come to a head. I'm no longer going to take you crap. I will continue to uphold my part of the bargain as I said I would, but I'm going to dictate my own terms. You created me, now you have to deal with me."
"Just bring me the target, and this will work out. We'll go from there." Beckman responded uncharacteristically full of apprehension.
"Black. Out." Chuck spoke into the receiver before pulling the phone from his ear and ending the call. For once, I'm ending the conversation, you self righteous bitch.
"All right, what's your name?" Chuck directed at the senior tech.
"Lawrence, sir, Lawrence" The tech replied. "The target is still holding at the coffee shop."
"Good job Lawrence, I want to be sure. Get me a many up close shots as you can and get me a pair of strike teams on hold. My teams may not be able to get here in time to apprehend." Chuck said as he again moved toward the door. "I'm going to make a few passes myself to be sure of our target. I'll contact you soon." Chuck said as he reached the door. "Do you have a radio or something for me to communicate with you on?"
"Uh yeah, and if you don't mind I've got an armed man to go with you." Offered Lawrence as he handed Chuck a rather sophisticated looking radio.
"Just press to talk? Chuck asked in an attempt at humor.
Lawrence laughed shortly, catching himself, mid laugh apparently embarrassed at his outburst.
"I'm going to be all right, Lawrence, this is my job." Chuck said revealing a rather imposing weapon under his coat.
Only Chuck knew it was just for show. Not once in his entire 'career', if you could call it that, had he fired a gun at someone. He was solely attracted to knives entirely dismissing firearms except as a final stop gap between him and death. He didn't reveal the multiple knives concealed around his body. Ceramic of course, for travel purposes. They didn't fly as well due to the lightness but they did the job if you knew how to handle them. Chuck figured if he was going to be forced to take lives he do it in a personal way.
"Status check, Lawrence. I need info." Chuck said as keyed up the radio. Moving though the terminal toward Osama's last known location.
The radio crackled to life. "Uh, sir he's sitting across from the cafe drinking. One of the guys up here thinks there's someone else watching him. Young guy still at the cafe with the beard." The radio informed him.
"Roger. Feed me updates on any movements of our friends, don't wait for my requests. I'm still out at least five minutes. What's the status on my assault team?" Chuck replied moving quickly through the next terminal. Here we go.
"They are in position, sir, holding in the adjacent hallway waiting for your signal." The radio responded again.
Chuck moved into position a minute early. Chuck had already learned by way of the Intersect the complete operations of the radio he was holding and switch channels over to the strike team. "Strike team this is the agent in charge. Do you copy?"
The radio scrambled into secure mode squawking a bit in the process. "Sir, this is Team Leader of Alpha squad standing by."
"Copy. Are you briefed on your target?" Chuck asked.
"That's an affirmative AIC, been eavesdropping on your channel. Hope you don't mind. Out."
Moving into position behind his target Chuck checked over his target much closer, searching for any telltale signs of traps or explosives. He didn't see anything obvious but he felt something was off about his not so inconspicuous observer sitting, still, across the way in the cafe. That boy could use a few lessons in stealth.
Moving back again he notified the surveillance room that they should secure the public entrances, people should be allowed and encouraged to leave but no one was to get in. Lawrence dutifully began arranging it and notified Chuck that the blocks were in place only a few minutes later. Efficient bastards, aren't they?
Not satisfied with the possible level of collateral damage Chuck wracked his brain for a way to rid the area of more or better yet, all the innocents. Moving around the terminal Chuck began bumping into people and generally making an ass of himself. If I can't make them leave I'll make him leave. Moving his attention towards bin Laden, he had to play this carefully. Too much and he cause too much of a scene. Enough and he could get this end well. Chuck sat down next to Osama and breathed heavily on the old man. Chuck had swished a mouthful of vodka on his way to his target. The man was obviously perturbed and shifted his weight in the chair away from Chuck and continued his attempt to ignore what appeared to be a highly inebriated man. The continual bantering Chuck was laying on bin Laden was having the desired effect and Chuck keyed the radio in his pocket to have an airport official to intervene on his behalf.
Addressing Chuck the official attempted to intervene. "Sir, sir, could you come with me please? We have a nicer area for you to wait in."
Chuck dismissed the official with a grunt, "I'm...fiiine right here, talking with my new friend." He poked Osama in the ribs and drew him into a sideways hug. "See..officcccer? Friends." Chuck continued, wagging his finger between them. Osama was looking slightly sick and highly uncomfortable at the last actions of his "new friend", his eyes pleading now with the official standing in front of him.
"Well, sir I think your friends flight is here and he needs to leave." The official said, playing it perfectly. Looking at Osama, noting his obvious distress at the physical proximity of the inebriated man. "Sir, let me escort you to your plane." Indicating to the older man that he should follow him elsewhere. bin Laden was all too happy to follow the man away from Chuck and trailed quickly behind the airport official as he led them away.
"Sir, I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience. Let me show you to the executive waiting area. The drunks in there are well behaved, or at least they keep to themselves."
Osama nodded in agreement and continued to follow the official into the private elevator to the executive waiting area, cleared of all its guest temporarily of course. The assault teams had been redirected to the flanks of the room and were waiting again for the go code.
Without breaking character he moved over to the not so subtle overwatch, who was clearly a bit panicked as his charge was whisked away. Chuck moved up next to him and slid a sticky film against the man's arm. Seconds later he was fast asleep on the table as Chuck removed the tape. Signaling a waiting security guard team they moved over to Chuck and took charge of the man. Searching quickly for any surprises and finding nothing they picked up the unconscious man headed for the holding cell next to Osama's. The old man didn't put up a fight. He after all he was quite old and appeared to be terminally sick. Chuck smiled as he received the update on the duo's new digs. Satisfied with the outcome and wholly relieved that nothing extreme had come down he moved back to the surveillance center.
Chuck smiled to himself. There was more to this than everyone else realized. He was going to be with his Sarah. Chuck couldn't care less about some old man and his nephew getting captured. If it bought him his freedom to be with Sarah he'd do it again and another thousand times after that. Sarah! Chuck broke into a dead run. He had to catch her before she left to wherever she was headed. Chuck burst into the control room and stopped short. The occupants burst into an enthusiastic volley of applause and whoops. They surrounded Chuck in a circle of congratulatory pats and bumps. Chuck smiled wanly trying to show the proper level of enthusiasm of and thanks for the show of thanks. Chuck began inching towards the monitor that was tracking Sarah. The tech not present at the station, Chuck sat down at the terminal signaling with his hand for a pause in the attention. Remembering the agents indicated status they relegated themselves back to their stations.
"Really, thanks guys, but much of the credit goes to you guys. You did a good job. Now, I still have a very important mission underway and I still need your help with that." Chuck said standing up from the terminal when he didn't see Sarah's figure on it.
"Oh, right, I got it right here sir." Lawrence said over the still simmering din emanating from the group of elated techs. "Uh, she moved through terminal four straight to the gate and boarded flight AA 169. It's a 777 American Airlines plane headed for Tokyo. According to Marks over there" Lawrence pointed at the young tech who had been monitoring the single terminal, "According to his notes, she talked only to the desk clerk, a security official who, let her through the side gate and moved straight to the gate." I've queued up all the footage and the notes from the surveillance and they are ready for deletion at your discretion."
"Well, I must say this was all done very professionally. You guys make the local PD look like amateurs. Honestly, it was quite refreshing. I'm sure this is going to highly promotion worthy for you guys. In fact, I'd like you guys to take the standing government reward, what is it like 10 million dollars?" Chuck finished. The last line had the desired effect. The room had become silent with several of the men's jaws extended as far as they could go.
Chuck laughed as he plugged a thumb drive into Lawrence's terminal. "It'll be in my report. I'll catch you on the flip side!" pressing a series of buttons on the consoles keypad the screen went through a series of changes before returning to its original state. Chuck pulled out the thumb drive, stood erect, saluted the men in the room, and practically evaporated out of the room.
I haven't been to Tokyo in a while.
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A/N: Thanks for reading, your one of the 3 or 4 who still are. Please review and let me know what YOU think.