ChuckParis9

A/N: Last chance, lurkers.

Chapter 10 – Casey's Booty Call with Alex and Chuck Kicks his Ass

Nothing happened for two weeks. Chuck ran, trained with Panzer in the gym and spent hours on the range becoming familiar with Ring weapons systems. He knew it was a period of 'observation' by the Ring Director General.

"Chuck, the Director wishes to see you in the salon. There is an operation he wants your input on."

"Charles, I would appreciate your input. We have a deep cover mole in the Dutch government who has valuable intelligence for us but has no way to 'meet' safely with our representatives because they are almost all known to the Dutch security services. The Dutch have even managed to infiltrate our cell operating out of The Hague where they influence cases and decisions of the World Court in favor of our clients."

"Does the mole have a social life within the government? Parties, receptions, conferences?" Chuck could see a standard CIA 'meet 'n greet' scenario.

"No. Her position is lower level staff analysis. Nothing that would allow her access to the social setting you're imagining but there is surveillance on her because of the sensitive nature of her work."

"Hobbies, leisure time activities? Surely even a mole has things she does in her free time? Perhaps a vacation to a less restricted environment? Like the beaches in the south of France?"

"She paints and very well, too. She shows her paintings at galleries in Amsterdam and she has a showing next week in Antwerp. I see your idea, Charles. Get to her in neutral territory, and then exchange the data for the payoff."

"Payoff? I thought you said she was one of our operatives, not a paid traitor?"

"Everyone has to eat, Charles. Didn't you receive a paycheck from the Combine?"

Chuck blushed and admitted he wasn't paid until the very end. "No. I had a job when Larkin sent the damned thing to me and the handlers kept me at it. It made operations difficult. I had two lives, sometimes three to balance. And no government check. Well, once the intersect version 1.0 was removed, I got a check and paid for my sister's wedding."

"Cheap bastards. OK, let me investigate the facilities available and where and then we can arrange an exchange. The data is on several compressed discs, no more than 20 or so. I'll get back to you, Charles. In the meantime, take some time off and take Hannah shopping. You'll find suitable financial instruments in the desk of the Carriage House. We pay well for a job well done."

Chuck found Henri in the Chateau kitchen eating one of his perpetual snacks. He found himself comparing the little gnome to Morgan Grimes and smiled at the similarities. 'Except that Morgan only killed people playing Call of Duty.'

"Henri, the Director 'suggested' that I take some time off and take Hannah shopping. Where do you suggest?"

"Why, Paris, of course. I will drive for you as I'm sure you would prefer not having to navigate the streets as well as le parking. Would you like to go this afternoon? You could spend the night in a hotel and have a quiet dinner and then some dancing and then…the next day let her spend your money?" He had a grin on his face that reminded him of Awesome.

"I'll ask her. I have to check on funds. And make a reservation for a room. That sounds great to me though. She loves to shop and haggle."

"Chuck, we own several hotels in Paris. I'll take care of it. As for money, check your desk drawer for cash and credit cards. Note the name though for signature purposes. I shall register your reservations in the name of Charles and Hannah Windsor to match your credit cards. OK?"

"Ironic, don't you think?"

"Oh, the name? Yes. Should I call your maid servant to attend you, Monsieur Le Prince?"

"I suppose you picked the name?" He had a warped sense of humor.

"But of course."

Paris

Henri drove the couple to Paris and dropped them off at their hotel. It was one of the better hotels in Paris and again Chuck was afforded a unique view of how the Ring paid for its operations. Just like the Mafia, they operated legitimate business fronts and used them for multiple purposes.

They registered, surrendered passports, and were taken up to their suite of rooms. Apparently being involved with the Director's daughter carried perks and a suite was one of them.

Hannah looked amused by something, looking at him, looking away but smiling broadly.

"What? Why are you laughing?"

"You didn't notice the passports, did you, sweetie?"

"No. Why? Oh, no, don't tell me my passport doesn't agree with how I registered? Stupid. I should have checked…"

"No. Actually, I meant my passport. It's in the name of Hannah Windsor. Did I miss the honeymoon, honey?" She smiled that slow, seductive smile that always sent messages to his groin…and she used it with wicked intent.

"Um, well, Henri picked the names so I guess we can blame him. As for a honeymoon…we've got hours until we need to get dressed for dinner." He did the patented Bartowski eyebrow dance and it worked…for a change.

Sometime later, she snuggled up against her 'husband' and whispered in his ear, waking him from a doze. "Chuck, we need to get ready for dinner. I'm starved. C'mon, sweetie. You can't be that tired."

"Call the restaurant. See if they deliver. All Chinese restaurants deliver. They invented 'takee-outee'."

"No. We're going out to eat and then hit a club I know of. You'll like it. Slow dancing, cheap booze, good music, easy women…"

"Sounds like heaven. What are you going to be doing?" That earned him an elbow in the stomach. "Move it, Chuck. I'm hungry and I get very disagreeable when I'm not regularly fed. And I get cold and distant and inaccessible. You don't want that, do you?"

"Humph. Sounds like most of the married women I know… Ouch!"

"Smart ass. Now get up and dressed. Feed me."

Alexandra Forrest was in Paris on business…monkey business. Ever since the 49B episode in Burbank, she and John Casey would 'run into each other' and spend as much time together as they could. She hated feeling needy but she loved having the need fulfilled. She was staying at a less than reputable pension owned by a former operative of the French intelligence service and his wife. Alex had met them on her very first operational mission and they'd been friends ever since.

"Casey, secure." He looked at the number and smiled.

"Forrest, horny. I'm in Paris for a week. Can you get free, sugar? I'm between jobs and have a week to spend doing 'Alex things'. Got any ideas?"

"I'm doing nothing important, just waiting for a contact with a deep cover operative. Say an hour?"

"An hour? Where then hell are you, Johnny? Aren't you in Burbank?"

"US Embassy in Paris at the VIP quarters. The Team has been terminated. You heard about Bartowski?"

"No. The nerd finally ran away with the CIA blonde?" She hated Sarah Walker with a purple passion. She paused wondering why he hadn't immediately replied. "John, what happened?"

"He's dead. He walked into something no one understood until it was too late. He was…I killed him, Alex."

"Oh…my. We'll talk when you get here. It's been too long since last time."

"Yeah. Way too long. See you in an hour or so. Maybe we can go to dinner and talk. I've learned to like walking in Paris. Only problem with it is it's full of the damned French!"

She laughed. He'd never forgive the French for their behavior before the Iraq invasion. Never. He was very good at holding a grudge.

"See you then, sugar. Bring a change of clothes this time, OK?"

"Yeah. I'd planned on it, several."

Alex disconnected the call and smiled. Progress. They'd never spent the night together. Not even if they stayed in the same hotel. And 'several' changes of clothes? Oh…my, indeed.

Henri was bored. He hated having to watch the young American. It was obvious where his loyalties lie, with the Ring or more specifically, with Director Dubois. The daughter, of course, was simply lagniappe. He made a decision. He would 'entertain' himself. Perhaps at Madame Rosa's.

He called Chuck, made certain they wouldn't need the car, and told him to enjoy his evening and that he was 'only a call away' if he needed him. Chuckling and feeling very pleased with himself, he drove to the one place he knew he could forget his troubles.

John Casey's cab dropped him at an address about 4 blocks from the small hotel Alex was staying in. He liked to walk. It gave him time to think, plan, or just enjoy being out and about. If he was being tailed it allowed him to shake the tail or take it out. He wouldn't lead anyone to Alex.

Chuck and Hannah finally dressed for dinner and strolled arm in arm down the broad sidewalk to the restaurant Hannah had suggested. She knew Chuck was not an 'adventurous eater' and so she picked a Chinese restaurant because he'd always spoken of how he missed Chinese food.

"Chuck, you know on the plane, the first time I saw you I knew I was going to be with you forever. It was love at first sight for me. The French call it Le Click."

"It wasn't that way for me. Not until you showed me your paintings. It was lust at… OOOF!" She elbowed him in the stomach.

"It was not lust. You were shy and I practically had to rape you, honey. You were so cute."

"Please, change the…" He saw Casey at exactly the same moment Casey saw him. Chuck pushed Hannah into a doorway and sprinted towards the NSA colonel who used to be his handler and, he thought, friend. He had his 9mm out and was screwing on the silencer as he ran. Casey just smiled and stood there, waiting.

Chuck stopped 6 feet from Casey, raised his pistol and sighted in on the Colonel's forehead. "Why? Why did Beckman put out a sanction on me? Was it you who pulled the trigger? Or was it Walker? No, not Walker. Shaw or you. Answer my question, Colonel, it is not a request. Why?"

Casey knew his next words would be his last or the first of an interesting conversation. "Why, indeed. Beckman said you'd call but you haven't. Is there a problem with your cover?"

Chuck was stunned for about 3 seconds, long enough for Casey to close the distance and clap him on the shoulder. "God damn, Chuck, it's good to see you alive. I thought I'd killed you! Beckman only briefed me about your new operation 3 weeks ago and I've been waiting for your call. I'm your case officer, Chuck."

"Shit. Hannah's seen you and she knows who you are. I'm sorry, John, but too much has happened and I'm too close to getting inside to let anything stop me. Are you wearing a vest?"

"What? No. No vest. Shit. Go ahead. Try for the shoulder, left one. Go ahead. Do it. It's gotta be done."

"Sorry, John. I'll be in touch." He floored him with a spin kick to the side of the head and then dragged him into an alley between two apartment buildings. He scribbled a note on a piece of paper he found in Casey's pocket and then hurried back to get Hannah.

"Hannah, we gotta go, baby. My cover's been blown. C'mon. We can't drag ass. This place will be crawling with NSA in minutes. Damn it. I can't have a moment's piece just to take my girl to dinner. Shit."

He used his cell and called Henri, briefed him and asked for suggestions.

"Go to the hotel. Enjoy room service. Tomorrow go shopping. You'll have security all around you. Do not worry. Calling me was the right thing to do. Now, take Hannah and return to the hotel. Chuck, did you kill him?"

"I couldn't risk anyone seeing me kill him, especially Hannah, so I just used some of Panzer's kung fu on him. If he doesn't have a skull fracture, he'll be OK."

"Good, because the Director frowns on any 'business' in France, even when you're being hunted, understand? Now, return to the hotel. All will be taken care of."

Casey staggered out of the alley and into the street. He was glad that Bartowski had the sense to 'take him out' but wished he'd worn a vest instead. He shook his head to clear it and called Alex on his cell to explain his predicament and to ask her to meet him 'half way' since he wasn't sure he wouldn't pass out again. He had a hell of a concussion and that screwed his plans for the night. Alex told him he was less than a block away but to hurry.

He replaced his cell and heard the crinkling of paper in his coat pocket. Bartowski had left him a wise assed note: 'Moron, wear a vest next time.'

He also put in some GPS coordinates and a date and time. Casey memorized the note and then shredded it and dropped a piece in each trash receptacle as he passed one.

"Sorry about dinner, Hannah. What were the odds of running into my old handler in Paris. From the look on his face it wasn't prearranged. He was just walking down the damned street…"

"Hey, room service is fine. I always wanted to dine in the nude in some posh place and this is posh enough. Now, let it go. Shit happens. Coincidence, nothing more." She fed him more pheasant and shivered as he licked her fingers clean of the meat and juices. This was much better than Chinese.

Dubois echoed his daughter's comments when he spoke to Henri. "It sounds like coincidence, bad luck, nothing more. His reaction was tempered and he acted wisely in calling you for counsel. Add two men to his security detail and Henri, stay away from Madame Rosa's. You're too old and those young ladies are young enough to be your grandchildren."

They shared a laugh since Henri was younger than the Director.

"Beckman, secure. Have you a contact report, Colonel Casey?"

"Oh, yeah. A 'contact' report, alright." He related the events and gave her Chuck's message. Beckman fed the GPS into her computer since Casey was 'in the field'. After determining the city, she narrowed the scope and obtained a street address. "Antwerp, Belgium. Apparently our young agent is going to be in Antwerp on that date. Here is the street address; it's an art gallery. Curious."

"General, I need a partner if I'm going to be running around the countryside. Agent Forrest is between assignments and is here in Paris. She's worked with Chuck before."

"I'll send through the paperwork. I assume you can find her and brief her in on the operation? Also, include the intersect host info." Of course she knew about Casey's dalliances. She kept track of him for various reasons.

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you." Things were definitely looking up in Casey's world.

He walked in to the small hotel and found Alex waiting in the lobby chatting with the man behind the desk. She took one look at his face and took him by the hand and up to her room. There was a story there that she wanted to hear.

She pulled some pills from her travel kit and gave him two. "These work wonders for concussion-induced headaches. You'll be doing the tango in a few hours.

He grunted. "I don't tango. Now, you're my new partner. You up for a long-term stay in France? I can guarantee you it will be interesting."

Her smile softened the harsh planes of her face and took years off her as well. 'Interesting' was hardly the word Alexandra Forrest would use in future months.

Alexandra's Tale

Alexandra Forrest was graduated with honors from Sarah Lawrence with degrees in Anthropology and Psychology. She received a Masters in Behavioral Psychology from Columbia University and was recruited into the CIA where she counseled agents returning from deep cover assignments, agents who'd suffered from mental trauma from torture, and evaluated the effectiveness of partnerships in the field using the methodology known as the 49B.

Her last field evaluation had been with Team Intersect where she'd found that the asset was totally emotionally involved with his CIA handler. It had been her evaluation that led to her temporary assignment as Casey's partner while Agent Walker had been transferred. It had been an enlightening experience for her. Not rewarding but certainly enlightening.

She applied for a transfer to field status and served in several roles until she finally was assigned to the 'Circus' Team based in Paris and partnered with her occasional lover, Colonel John Casey, NSA. Occasional became full time and both of them were delighted.

General Beckman saw this as an opportunity to create a cover relationship that would allow the deep cover agent to regularly report to a case officer as well as allow the agent 'venting' space. Agent Forrest was established as a well-documented 'therapist' in Paris with a public relationship with Colonel Casey of the American embassy and a private practice with a very discreet clientele.

Sarah Walker requested and was granted a leave. Beckman knew that the Bartowski 'death' had hit her hard and she wanted her 'back in the game' as quickly as possible. She informed Sarah that she would be coming back to the US and would head up a special task force to locate and take out the remaining Fulcrum hives. Beckman figured she'd focus her anger on her task and she was right as usual.

Daniel Shaw disappeared while conducting investigations into Ring activities 'off the books' in Vienna and was listed as 'missing, presumed dead'. No one shed a tear, least of all the woman who'd tracked him down and killed him, avenging the death of her asset.