I don't own "Chuck" the Sex Pistols, or anything else involved with this story.
Chapter 6. Taking it On the Roan
February 20, 1977, 4:15 AM, London.
"Give me one good reason why I should bring you in right now!"
Rather than answer Charlotte's question, Roan grabbed her and pulled her into his hotel room.
"There were three men in my hotel room when I returned last night," he explained once he'd shut the door. "They tried to kill me. One of them must have gotten away with my knife."
"And the other two?"
"Probably about to be found by some unlucky dishwasher downstairs. They aren't going to do us any further harm. But the third man…"
"Let me guess. Our friend from the restaurant?"
"Right. He must have killed Amasova, and used my knife to frame me." Seeing that Charlotte remained unconvinced, Roan added, "I told you, I had nothing against the Soviets or this negotiation. And you already told me you agreed about their being a cover-up."
Charlotte sighed. "Even if I do believe you, it doesn't matter. Hamilton knows you're still in London, and there's pressure from Moscow for your head. I don't think there's much chance that you can talk your way out of it."
"Well, we'll just have to fix things ourselves, then." Roan paused when he heard the distant sound of sirens, growing louder by the second.
"Did you really think they would have trouble finding you?" Charlotte asked. "Next time you want to stay in a country uninvited, try switching hotels!"
"Come on!" Roan quickly grabbed his things, and headed out the door.
"How do you plan to get out unnoticed?" Charlotte asked as they carefully made their way through the hallway.
"You go first," Roan suggested. "I'll find a way."
After the British agent reluctantly headed to the elevator, Roan made his way down the hallway, looking for an unlocked door. He needed to find something to help him escape, but he also didn't particularly want to enter an occupied room. Frightening an old woman out of her slumber was a good way to get found quickly.
Finally, he found the floor's laundry area. Entering quietly, he took a look around.
While nothing had been left in any of the machines, he did find some items that had apparently been sent out for dry cleaning and were now waiting to be returned. He first grabbed an old fur coat, and with a pair of scissors that had been left nearby, he lopped off a portion of it. The crudely-fashioned wig wasn't flattering, which was usually a no-no for Roan. But desperate times called for desperate measures.
The next part of his disguise was even more painful. It was brown, though the pockets and overly wide collar were both a sickly version of lime green. The pants legs were wide enough to potentially trip over. Or they would be, if the suit didn't happen to be a couple of sizes too small.
Swallowing his pride, he put on the suit, and left the laundry room. He found the last piece of his temporary camouflage in the hallway bathroom. As he grabbed the forgotten pair of glasses, he carefully avoided looking in the mirror. There were some things he just didn't need to see.
It took a couple of minutes to make his way down the stairwell, mainly due to the slight blurriness caused by the glasses. Finally, he reached the lobby. It was clear that the disguise had been necessary. There were several constables wandering about the hotel, including Roan's chauffer from the previous day. He carefully avoided eye contact, but kept his movements from being noticeably quick. It seemed like it took an hour, but he finally reached the exit door and made his way outside.
The MG was parked about a block away. Charlotte blinked when she saw him, then burst out laughing when she realized who was approaching her.
"It worked, didn't it," Roan growled, then motioned at the sports car. "You'd better stow that somewhere so nobody will find it and recognize it. I'll find a different car and meet you a t the end of the street in a few minutes."
Charlotte hadn't been happy about the grand theft auto, but Roan had argued that it was necessary, and they could always call in with an anonymous tip about the car when the crisis was over. She'd also argued that they didn't actually need to steal a Rolls Royce, but Roan wouldn't budge on that either.
"So where to?" Roan asked as he changed in the back of the Rolls. He'd noticed, to his amusement, that Charlotte had snuck a peek when she thought he hadn't been watching.
"You're not going to be able to get close to anybody in the Soviet delegation now. And I wouldn't count on being able to wander the streets of London unnoticed. We have eyes everywhere."
"Well, I hope you don't think I'm just going to give up."
Charlotte shook her head. "No, I wouldn't. But you're going to have to find a place to hide out for a bit."
"Any suggestions?"
"Not really. At the moment, you're probably safest at my place."
Roan raised an eyebrow. "Works for me."
"To stay out of sight," Charlotte added quickly. "You need someone to watch your back right now, and the easiest way to do that is on familiar ground."
"Whatever you say. You're the boss."
They stopped at a small two-story building in Bayswater. While fairly old, the house was in good shape. Roan imagined that Charlotte must have some help with that, which said as much about her financial stability as the house itself. Perhaps she had family money.
Charlotte climbed out of the Rolls and looked around the neighborhood. Seeing no one around, she motioned for Roan to follow.
As she pulled open the door, the sound of loud music crashed into the air.
"I am an Anti-Christ
I am an anarchist,
Don't know what I want
But I know how to get it"
"I guess my son's awake," Charlotte explained, looking slightly embarrassed. "Sorry about the music. He's going through a bit of a phase."
Once the door had closed, she yelled, "Cole, honey! Could you turn that down!"
A moment later the sound faded away, and a young boy walked in carrying a record jacket. The boy's sullen expression made him seem older, but judging by his size, Roan guessed that he couldn't have been more than eight or nine. He had dark hair, like his mother, with a pair glasses perched on his nose.
"You should get ready for school," Charlotte said to her son.
"What for?" the boy asked petulantly.
"Because I said so, that's why. And don't think I won't know if you skip either. Remember who I work for – I'm very good at recognizing lies."
The boy sighed, and stomped off to his room.
"He knows you're a spy?" Roan asked when the boy had disappeared.
Charlotte nodded. "I had to tell him, when…"
"The man who died in the car crash. The boy's father I guess?"
"Yes, Agent Barker was his father. Cole took it hard when he died." The British agent shook her head. "He's too young to be so angry." She looked back towards the boy's room, then said, "I guess I should at least make him some breakfast."
After Charlotte had left, Roan walked over and briefly examined the record Cole had left. A minute later, the young boy returned, now in a school uniform, a knapsack slung around his shoulder. Seeing Roan, he asked, "Who are you?"
"I'm working with your mother." The boy shrugged, seemingly uninterested. But then he asked, "You're American?"
"I am."
"I don't like Americans," Cole grumbled.
"I don't like a lot of them either. The Osmonds, for example. But some of us aren't so bad." He looked back down at the record. "Interesting music you have."
Cole shrugged. "Unlike most people, they tell the truth."
"I'm sure they do. Still, listening to this can only take you so far. I don't think it's going to be much of a hit with the ladies."
"I'm nine. What would I want with girls?"
Roan laughed. "If you're old enough to listen to the…" he peered closely at the record sleeve, "…Sex Pistols, you're old enough to appreciate the fairer sex."
"Whatever. You're just like my mom and everybody else," the boy grumbled.
"Actually, I'm pretty sure there's hardly anybody out there like me," Roan responded. "Look, you're a tough kid, I can see that. And I get that you're pissed off. Someone was taken from you. And everybody is so intent on 'protecting' you that they won't tell you the truth. But what would you really do if you found out what happened?"
"I'd find who was responsible. And get even."
Roan shook his head. As Charlotte had said, too young to be so angry. "Someday, maybe you can. But you need to give it time."
"And do what?"
"Go to school, for one thing. It's more useful than you think. And put some faith in your mother. There's a lot she could teach you. Certainly more than these guys can." He shook the record for effect.
Cole looked up at Roan for a while, his eyes narrowed in thought. Finally he asked, "What kind of music?"
"Well," Roan replied, "I'd suggest anything that you need to get dressed up to listen to. People will always trust somebody that appreciates classical music. Plus, it's always guaranteed to impress the ladies. It doesn't even matter if you, or they, like the music or not. Any type of music that can lead to dancing is also recommended."
"Dancing? Yuck!"
"Scoff now, but someday you'll thank me."
"Don't you think it's time to eat your breakfast and head off to school?" Both Roan and a still somewhat unconvinced Cole looked over to see Charlotte standing in the doorway, a half smile on her face.
Once the boy had left for the kitchen, she turned to Roan. "Are you really teaching my son how to hit on women?"
"You're never too young to learn the important things."
"Hmm. Well, at least he was listening to you, I guess. He never listens to me. And there hasn't really been a man in his life since his father died."
"Bye Mom! Bye Roan!" they heard from the other end of the house, and then the door slamming.
"No men in your life either?" Roan asked once the house was quiet again, inching closer to Charlotte.
"Well, that's hardly…" Charlotte backed up, flushing slightly. "Uh, what would you like for breakfast?" Charlotte asked, flushing slightly as she felt Roan looking at her. "I've got eggs, toast, tomato…"
"Well, to be honest, Charlotte, I'm not really hungry right now," he replied, leaning in to kiss her. The British agent stepped back momentarily before pushing her lips into his.
"Call me Lottie," she said breathlessly when she finally pulled herself away.
"We just never found the time," Lottie answered Roan's question, stretching slightly underneath the bed covers. "First we were spending both of our times on missions, then Cole came along. Planning a wedding just wasn't practical."
"And MI-5 wasn't too keen on it?"
"'It was unbecoming of a representative of Her Majesty's Secret Service,'" Lottie responded bitterly. "I was demoted. James wasn't, of course. A child out of wedlock was perfectly acceptable for a man at the agency, but a woman? So, you see, I wasn't always the lowly gofer you see now," she smiled as Roan put a hand on her bare shoulder.
"And then James and I started to fight a lot. He was rising through the ranks while I stayed where I was. I think we stayed together for Cole, but it probably wasn't doing him much good. Finally, he got this chance to serve as Head of Security for these negotiations."
"So Agent Barker had the job before Hamilton?"
"Right. Unfortunately, he was very hands-on…" She smiled at Roan's raised eyebrow. "On the job, I mean. So he was driving your American representative when the crash occurred."
"Which you don't believe was an accident."
"James had his faults. Driving wasn't one of them."
"And the MI-5 wasn't interested in investigating it?"
Lottie shrugged. "There was too much at stake. They didn't want to 'ruffle any feathers.' Oh, they were more than happy to give me a large settlement, but that was hush money more than anything. I wouldn't have taken it, but I needed the money for Cole's sake."
"Well, we'll find out who's behind his death soon enough," Roan commented. "I think everything that's happened in the last few days means they're getting desperate. So we're on the right track."
Lottie lay there thoughtful for a moment. "You may be right. But right now you still need to lay low."
"Oh believe me," Roan leered, leaning over her. "There's plenty of laying in my immediate future."
An hour later, the phone rang. Roan watched Lottie get out of bed, and wrap a robe around herself. "It's probably the office. It's supposed to be my day off, but I'm sure things will change due to our current American threat." She gave him a smirk to punctuate her last comment.
"Hello?" Roan listened from the bedroom while the British agent answered the phone. "Yes, Sir. Of course. I'll be right there."
"I was right," she said as she returned to the bedroom to dress. "I'll have to go in for a meeting."
"Any news?" Roan asked.
"I don't know. He wouldn't go into details. But you need to stay here a little while longer. The last thing I need is for you to be seen nearby, and then have to answer a lot of questions I'd rather not."
Roan raised his right hand. "I solemnly swear on the American flag, Old Glory herself. I will not stray from this bed."
Lottie gave him a long look. "Please take this seriously. I could be dragged off to prison or worse for helping you. That's the last thing Cole needs."
Roan nodded. "I swear."
"Ok." Lottie had finished dressing, and was now wearing a prim but fairly stylish suit. She headed over to the bed and kissed him. "I should be back in a couple of hours. Then we can figure out what our next move is."
"Alright. See you later."
As soon as the door shut, Roan jumped to his feet, and prepared to dress. As he was gathering his clothes, he snuck a peek out the window. Lottie was just pushing her key into the lock of the Rolls. Roan chuckled as he realized neither of them had called in with that anonymous tip. As she entered through the driver-side door, he wondered if she was going to leave the car back in London.
A moment later, there was a loud whoosh as the Rolls exploded in the middle of the street.
February 4, 2011. 10:30 PM, Glendale, CA
"Damn it!"
"What the hell's the matter, Bartowski?"
Chuck looked up to see Casey looking at him in the half-annoyed, half-concerned look he'd seemed to have perfected in the past year. He was seated at the other end of the van, a set of binoculars hanging around his neck.
Chuck pushed aside the notebook. He didn't particularly want to have to explain what he'd been reading, so he would need a way to quickly douse Casey's curiosity.
"Oh, I've been starting to work on my vows for the wedding," he quickly said. "But I got stuck. Do you want me to run what I have so far by you?"
"That's ok," Casey replied quickly. He looked longingly at the front of the van, where Sarah was currently immersed in audio surveillance.
For the next few minutes, Chuck tried to pay attention to the van's monitor, keeping an eye on the vantage points the hidden cameras offered them. But nothing happened, and his mind kept straying to what he'd read. Despite their obvious rivalry, Chuck had always liked Cole Barker, and he'd been surprised when his name appeared in the story. He'd never imagined he'd had such a tough childhood, or how it would have affected him. But he guessed that having two spies as parents would be difficult.
"Casey, can I ask you something?"
"What?" the older man growled.
"Have you ever wondered…what it would have been like if you had returned? Been a husband and father to Alex?"
Casey looked at the younger man warily, before finally relenting. "Sometimes."
"Do you think you could have managed it? Being both a spy and a father to her?"
Casey shook his head immediately. "No." As Chuck cast his head downward, the older man said, "Look, shouldn't you be having this conversation with the spy who supposedly loves you?"
"The spy who does love me," Chuck retorted. "And we will. The whole kids thing kind of scares her a bit, though." After a moment, he admitted, "It scares me too."
Casey turned his attention back to his binoculars, but eventually he relented. "It's more about who I am, than anything. I can do the whole father to an adult daughter thing. That's basically giving advice, and intimidating whoever she's dating."
Chuck had to admit he'd been fairly successful with Morgan, though he hadn't completely scared him off.
"But beyond that, I wouldn't have the patience. I'd have been terrible with a newborn. But what does that matter? You and Walker, you're two different people. You'd probably be pretty good parents, spies or no. You actually listen to people, and you care about everybody. And besides," he pointed to Chuck's head, "that gizmo stuck in your head probably has an instruction manual on how to change diapers."
Any further questions that Chuck wanted to ask would have to wait, as Sarah crawled into the back of the van. "I think we've finally got some action going." They all turned their attention to the monitor.
"So General Beckman was right about there being an arms deal here?"
"Intel seemed sound," Casey replied. "There are still some ex-KGB types hanging around, and every time they seem to run low on cash, they seem to want to sell another one of their old toys."
Chuck nodded. Beckman had told them the buyer was an ex-Lieutenant to one of the Ring Elders, and had no apparently been looking to into business for himself. The CIA had been tracking him, and had learned about the prospective meeting. However, they'd known little about who the seller would be, other than that he had formerly worked with the Soviet secret police.
"Wait, I think somebody's coming." Sarah leaned into the monitor. Chuck felt the flash hit as the ex-Ringman appeared on screen.
"Jesus, Bartowski, did you drop the camera before you planted it?" Casey complained as they studied the grainy footage.
"Hey, it's not my fault we were given subpar technology!"
"Would you two be quiet?" Sarah whispered. "Here comes the other." A moment later another shadowy figure appeared.
"Well there's a fashion choice you don't see every day," Casey remarked. "Is our salesman wearing a fez?"
Sorry it took a bit longer to get this chapter out. I didn't have a lot of time last weekend, and I had a bit of trouble with a few of the scenes here.
I suppose I strayed a bit from the "Bond Homage" part of this story here. But I figured I had to get Cole in here somehow, since he was kind of the show's answer to James Bond. I had originally thought about making Roan be Cole's father, but the character (or at least the actor) was too old for that to work. Still, I'm pretty sure no Bond girl in history has ever had a kid.
Next chapter will wrap things up in London, as the story moves on to new ports of call. I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far, and has caught all of the Bond references! As always, reviews are appreciated!