A tip of the hat to my editor, Poa, for her tireless and timely tickling of my trashy text.
CHUCK VERSUS THE BUY MORE BOMBER
Chapter 30
Fallout
"Excuse me, young man," the silver-haired woman in the velour jogging suit said to the curly-headed man behind the Nerd Herd desk. When she got no response, she tried again, louder. "Young man, excuse me."
Chuck shook himself a little, blinked, and plastered a smile on his face. "I'm sorry, ma'am. What can I do for you?"
"I need to get this fixed," the woman said, holding out a twisted lump of metal and plastic.
Chuck took the object from the woman and turned it this way and that. "It's a…" he ventured.
"My digital camera," the woman said, nodding. "I left it on the roof of my car and then backed over it when it fell off. When can you have it ready?"
Chuck turned the object over in his hands. "I… ah… I'm really sorry, ma'am, but I don't think I can fix this."
"But the commercials say 'Bring it to the Nerd Herd. The Wizards of Modern Technology. If it computes or clicks, entertains or mixes, cooks or cools, the Wizards will fix it like new.'" By the end, she was half-singing the jingle from the Nerd Herd television ads.
Chuck handed back the pieces. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but you don't need a wizard, you need a mortician. This camera is dead. I'm afraid you're going to simply have to replace it."
"Well!" the woman huffed. "I bet those nice boys over at Large Mart can fix it." She turned and stomped off.
"Yeah, good luck with that," Chuck muttered after her.
He sighed and looked around the store. It was packed. Between pent-up demand from having the stores closed during the Bomber crisis; the news reports of the death of the Bomber; the publicity from Moses Finkelstein (etc.)'s 'martyrdom' to catch the Bomber; the new ad campaign to draw customers back to the store; and the loss of several stores, the Burbank Buy More was busier than Chuck had ever seen it. Even Morgan was actually having to work.
Chuck rubbed his hands on his pants. His palms were healing and the bandages had come off, but they still itched. He glanced over toward the back of the store, where Casey was showing a fawning middle-aged woman the features of a Beastmaster 7500. He sighed. Other than the crowds, it was like the last two weeks hadn't even happened.
No, that wasn't exactly true. Out the front doors and across the parking lot, he knew, there was a shapely blonde behind the counter at the Orange Orange, but it was the wrong shapely blonde. Agent Alex Forrest continued to fill in while Sarah convalesced.
Sarah was at the Twin Oaks Rehabilitation Hospital, a special facility for wounded agents (with a cover as an exclusive celebrity-friendly rehab facility). Chuck had wanted to stay with her, but she had ordered him away. "The last thing we need right now is you rocking the boat, Chuck," she had said. "Just lay low and play along until Casey and I can get this mess straightened out."
'This mess', of course, being Moses' offer of making Chuck his apprentice, Sarah's capture by al Fayed, Chuck and Casey's rogue mission to rescue her, and Agent Forrest's rather forceful removal from that mission. Chuck mentally winced at the memory of the de-briefing following the incident at the Beverly Hills Buy More. He had never seen General Beckman so mad, and hoped he never would again. Only two days of testimony before the Senate Intelligence Committee (thankfully unrelated to Team Bartowski) had prevented her from boarding a plane and flying to Los Angeles immediately. As it was, all of Team Bartowski was on administrative suspension pending a review of the entire Human Intersect project by Beckman herself. In the meantime, Agent Forrest had been ordered to keep an eye on Chuck and Casey, an assignment Agent Forrest was pursuing with ruthless efficiency.
Chuck sighed and his eyes drifted over to the far wall, where the portrait of Moses Finkelstein, Founder and CEO of Buy More, was draped in black crepe paper. His mind drifted back to the day of Moses' death.
Chuck had no memory of the blast itself. One minute he had been hurrying from the store, the next he had awoken to darkness and pain. He had tried to move, but was pinned by debris. "Over here," he had heard a voice call, as if from a great distance. The debris covering him had shifted and he had blinked in the sudden glare of emergency lights.
"Damn," a raspy voice had muttered above him, "I was hoping it was sweet cheeks." He had blinked the dust from his eyes and squinted at the voice. Slowly, a lined face with a cigarette dangling from its lips had come into focus: Captain Barbara Anders, the LAPD detective in charge of the Buy More Bomber investigation. Anders had turned her head and spoken to someone Chuck hadn't been able to see. "It's Agent Carmichael," she had said.
"Sarah," Chuck had rasped, his throat dry and coarse.
"She's right here. We're digging her out now. She's going to be okay," Anders had said. "Where's Johnny? Where's Agent Casey?"
"Back of the store," Chuck had managed. Anders had hurried off while firefighters dug Chuck and Sarah out of the debris before taking them, once again, to the 'special section' at County General.
"Well," a snide voice snapped Chuck out of his remembering. "It seems that with the enforced vacation, some people have forgotten how to work."
Unfortunately, the death of the Bomber and the reopening of the stores meant that everyone had returned, including the officious Emmett Milbarge, the Burbank Buy More's assistant manager. Chuck couldn't keep the scowl off of his face. "So I guess your mother's leukoplakia cleared up, huh Emmett? Moses was rather disappointed you weren't here when he stopped by."
Emmett's face contorted with rage. "Don't you dare talk about our sainted leader in such familiar tones. You're not worthy to kiss the ground…"
"Excuse me." Both Chuck and Emmett turned at the sound of a stern yet pleasant female voice.
Emmett's eyes went wide at the striking woman in the severe suit standing just before him. His tone went instantly from demanding to fawning. "Good afternoon, ma'am. Welcome to Buy More. How may I help you?"
Amelia Banks looked at Emmett as if looking at a bug. "You may not. I am here to speak to Mr. Bartowski."
Emmett turned and glanced at Chuck, before turning back to Amelia. "I am afraid Mr. Bartowski is rather busy at the moment. I think his break is in another thirty-three minutes, if you would…"
Amelia interrupted him by handing him a card. "Amelia Banks, office of the President, Buy More Corporation. This is official Buy More business and I suggest you stand aside."
Emmett's mouth opened and closed several times, like a fish gasping for air, and all the color drained from his face. "Ms. Banks, I apologize. I had no idea…"
"From what I understand, you never do, Mr. Milbarge." She stepped around him and smiled at Chuck. "Hello, Chuck," she said, her voice softening.
"Hello, Amelia," he replied. "I didn't get the chance to talk to you after…" He swallowed. "Anyway, I'm sorry about Moses."
Amelia started to speak, but noticed that Emmett was still standing there, agape. She turned on him and narrowed her eyes. "Mr. Milbarge," she said, her voice cold, "if you have nothing better to do, perhaps I can arrange for a position for you cleaning the Buy More warehouse."
"Oh, excuse me," Emmett sputtered. "I was… That is, I… I was going to… Is that Big Mike calling? Excuse me." He hurried away.
Amelia turned back to Chuck and her expression softened once again. "Thank you," she said. "He was a royal pain in the ass, but I'm going to miss him. Is there somewhere we can talk in private?"
"Sure," Chuck said, stepping out from behind the counter. He glanced over at the home theater room, but there were customers in it, so he turned and looked toward the back of the store. "Come on. We can go back to The Cage."
He led Amelia to the back of the store and down the hall to the The Cage. The room was, fortunately, unoccupied. All of the Nerd Herders were assisting the green shirts with onslaught of the customers. Chuck pulled up a rolling chair for Amelia and propped himself up on the Nerd Herder's work bench.
Amelia dusted off the chair, then took a seat, crossing her long legs. She started to speak, but then paused and looked over Chuck's shoulder, one eyebrow rising questioningly.
"Is that a chinchilla?" she asked, indicating a cage behind Chuck.
"Two, actually," Chuck said, looking back at the chinchilla cage. "It's a long story."
Amelia shrugged. "It's good to see you, Chuck."
Chuck nodded. "You, too."
"How's Agent Walker?" Amelia asked.
"She's doing okay," Chuck said with a slight shrug. "She's in rehab for her arm. al Fayed reinjured it when he took her hostage, but the doctors say she should make a full recovery."
"That's good," Amelia said. "And Agent Casey? How much trouble is he in?"
Chuck frowned and shook his head. "We don't know yet. General… um, our boss is coming out to conduct a review of the operation."
"Whatever I can do to help," Amelia said. "You know that, right?"
"Thanks," Chuck said.
Amelia took a breath. "Well, this is not purely a social call." She reached in her attaché case and pulled out a small object Chuck recognized from his first meeting in Moses Finkelstein (etc.)'s office – a jamming device. She touched a button on it and set it on the floor next to her.
"I assume you're being monitored?" she asked.
Chuck nodded. He frowned. Forrest wasn't going to like this.
Amelia reached back in her attaché case and pulled out some papers. "Charles Irving Bartowski," she said formally, "on behalf of the Board of Directors of the Buy More Corporation, I have the duty and honor to inform you that at a special meeting of the Board convened yesterday, you have been elected as Chairman and Chief Executive Officer of the Buy More Corporation, effective immediately." She reached out to hand Chuck the papers.
"Excuse me?" Chuck stammered.
Amelia broke into a smile. "You're the new boss, Chuck," she said. "It was Moses' last wish."
"But… but… how?" Chuck stammered.
"As soon as you agreed to be Moses' apprentice and heir, he immediately called in the attorneys. The stock of Buy More Corporation is to be divided twenty-four and one-half percent to Rachel Schwartz, twenty-four and one-half percent to a trust for all those killed and injured in the bombings and fifty-one percent to one Charles Bartowski. And he gave me a proxy to vote the shares until probate of his estate was complete and the stock could be transferred. He also left you the remainder of his estate. You're a very wealthy man, Chuck Bartowski."
The door to the back room burst open and Casey came charging in, gun drawn. Chuck jumped to his feet, but Amelia merely turned and smiled. "Hello, Agent Casey. How nice to see you," she said evenly.
"Forrest called," Casey said, ignoring Amelia. "She lost the feed to the back room when you two came in here."
Amelia picked up the small device. "That is because Mr. Bartowski and I were having a private conversation, Agent Casey," Amelia said.
"I'll bet," Casey growled.
"Mr. Casey, I resent your tone and your implication," Amelia said, rising from her chair. "Further, I would expect more respect shown toward your new employer, even if it is merely your cover job."
"My what?" Casey exploded.
"Mr. Bartowski has been duly elected the chairman and CEO of Buy More Corporation," Amelia said. "With all the rights and privileges appertaining thereto. As such, he is entitled to the utmost deference and respect."
"In Hell," Casey muttered. "Listen, sister. It's my job to protect this bone-head and I don't appreciate…"
"Your services in that area will no longer be necessary," Amelia said, cutting him off. "I will be acting as Mr. Bartowski's administrative assistant and body guard, effective immediately."
"A… A… Amelia?" Chuck stammered.
Amelia turned back to Chuck. "Unfortunately, we were interrupted before I could explain. "Mister Finkelstein directed, before he died, that I was to continue on in the same capacity for you as I did for him, as your personal assistant and body guard. A duty I am pleased and honored to perform."
Casey couldn't help sneering suggestively, "And what other services did you provide?"
Amelia suddenly turned on Casey in a blur of motion, whipped out her Desert Eagle, and stuck the gun's barrel under his chin. "I do not care for your tone nor your implications, Agent Casey," she hissed.
"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Let's all calm down here," Chuck said, trying unsuccessfully to insert himself between Casey and Amelia.
After a moment, Amelia stepped back and lowered her gun. "As you wish, Mr. Bartowski," she said formally. "But Agent Casey owes me an apology."
Chuck turned to Casey. "Casey?"
"What?" Casey snapped.
"Apologize."
"Like hell."
"Casey!"
"Oh, all right," Casey muttered. Then he mumbled something that could maybe possibly have been 'I apologize.' He was looking at the floor, but Chuck noticed that his eyes drifted upward to take in Amelia's rather pleasing form.
The door burst open again and Agent Forrest barreled in to find herself facing the barrels of both Casey's and Amelia's guns. She skidded to a halt and her eyes narrowed. "You," she hissed at Amelia.
"Stand down, Forrest," Casey said, lowering his weapon. "I've got this covered."
Amelia, Chuck noticed, didn't lower her weapon.
"But the surveillance feed…" Forrest said.
"Obviously a malfunction," Casey said. "Why don't you go back and run a full diagnostic. As you can see, Chuck is not in any danger."
"Protocol dictates…" Forrest started.
"Add it to the list," Casey snarled and turned his back on her.
Forrest sputtered a couple times, glared at Amelia, and then backed out of the room. Only then did Amelia lower her gun.
"I really don't like that woman," Amelia said.
Casey turned to her. "Okay, now explain to me just what in the hell is going on."
"Simple," Amelia said, returning her gun to the holster under her jacket. "Chuck is the heir to the Finkelstein fortune and he is now the new Chairman and CEO of the Buy More Corporation."
"Chuck me," Casey muttered.
Amelia turned back to Chuck. "There's something else."
Chuck's head was swimming. "That's not enough?"
"It might be easier if I show you rather than tell you. You'll have to come with me."
"No," Casey said.
Amelia turned and looked at him, her face settling into a scowl. "Mr. Casey, you are simply going to have to accept that Mr. Bartowski now has certainly responsibilities… and certain prerogatives… given his new position and status. Further, Mr. Bartowski's security is now my responsibility and I will do everything in my power to make sure that he is protected."
"Worked well for Finkelstein, didn't it," Casey said.
Seeing Amelia draw in a sharp breath and take a step toward Casey, Chuck stepped between them. "Why don't you come with us, Casey?"
"I'm not sure that's…" Amelia began. At a pleading look from Chuck, she took a step back and relaxed. "Of course, sir. If you would be more comfortable having Mr. Casey accompany us, then I'm sure that would not be a problem." Her tone was even, but her narrowed eyes were fixed firmly on Casey as she spoke.
"Shall we, then?" Chuck asked, motioning for Amelia to lead the way.
They walked out of the back room, Amelia in front and Casey in the rear.
Emmett looked up just as Chuck and Casey were about to leave the store, Amelia having already stepped through the doors. "Not one more step!" he cried loudly. "Where do you think you two are going?" Chuck and Casey stopped and turned back to face him, and then the doors opened and Amelia stepped back into the store. At a single look from her, Emmett dropped the clipboard he had been holding.
Chuck smiled condescendingly at Emmett. "We're leaving, Emmett. I don't know when we'll be back. Is that a problem?"
Emmett's eyes darted from Amelia, to Chuck, and back to Amelia. "No. No problem. Take your time."
The trio turned and exited the store. Davis, the chauffer, was waiting by the rear door of the limousine. He gave Chuck a small nod as Chuck climbed into the car. "Mr. Bartowski," he said, a slight smile on his face.
As Chuck, Casey and Amelia settled into the back of the limo, Chuck turned nervously to Amelia. "You still haven't told him about the 'Lurch' comment, have you?"
Amelia smiled. "No, Mr. Bartowski. And as Davis is now your driver, you can call him 'Lurch' if you want."
Chuck watched the huge man climb into the driver's seat and shook his head. "I think Davis will do," he said.
Amelia tapped on the glass and the limo glided slowly away from the curb.
The drive to Buy More Corporate Headquarters was tense, with Casey and Amelia glaring at each other. To pass the time, Chuck started playing with the buttons on the console next to his seat. First, the divider between the driver's and passenger's compartment slid down and back up, then a small video screen popped down from the roof. When he touched the next button, music began playing, rather loudly, through hidden speakers. Casey growled, but Amelia smiled and stifled a chuckle. Chuck frantically stabbed buttons until the music turned off. With a sheepish smile and a shrug, he settled back in his seat and watched the scenery for the rest of the trip.
As they neared their destination, Amelia pulled a paper from her attaché case. "Mr. Casey, I am afraid that before we reach our destination, we will require your signature on this Non-Disclosure Agreement." She handed the paper to Casey.
Casey threw it back at her. "Like hell."
Amelia turned and rapped on the glass leading to the driver's compartment. The limo slowed.
"Casey," Chuck said. "It's not like you can't keep a secret."
"Hell," Casey grumbled, but he reached down, picked up the document, scribbled his signature on it without reading it and threw it back at Amelia.
Amelia smiled, nodded, and tapped on the glass again. The limo sped back up.
A short while later, the limo pulled around to the back of the Buy More Corporate headquarters and stopped before a large steel door. Davis rolled down his window and leaned forward. He punched in a code and a device popped out to scan his retina. It popped back in and the door slid slowly up. Davis pulled into an immaculately clean, well-lit underground garage and pulled into a spot at the end of a line of identical limousines. He got out and hurried around to open the door.
Amelia was the first out of the limo, followed by Casey and then Chuck. "Thank you, Davis," Amelia said with a slight nod.
"Yes, thank you, Davis," Chuck said and then hurried to follow Amelia as she walked toward a pair of elevator doors. She chose the elevator to the right, laid her hand on a scanning panel for identification, and then leaned forward for a retinal scan. The door to the elevator opened and she stepped to the side. "I'm afraid I will have to ask each of you for a handprint and retinal scan," she said to Chuck and Casey. "It's an automated security precaution."
Chuck readily complied, growing more curious by the moment.
Casey grunted, but complied. Chuck suspected Casey was as curious as he was.
Amelia boarded the elevator and as soon as Chuck and Casey were on board, the doors closed and the elevator began a rapid stomach-churning descent for several floors before easing to a stop. Casey's eyes narrowed. "How deep?" he asked.
"Ten stories," Amelia replied. "The first five are the parking garage for headquarters. Level six and seven are mechanical. Level eight is bedrock and level nine is mechanical and electronics." The doors opened. "And this," she said, indicating with a sweep of her hand, "is Level Ten."
Chuck stepped out of the elevator and looked around, his mouth falling open.
It was nerd heaven.
Chuck immediately thought of Mission Control. Or maybe the War Room from 'War Games.' There were two massive screens on the far wall displaying a world map and satellite plots, as well as video feeds from various news organizations. Men and women dressed in green Buy More shirts huddled before consoles beneath the large screens.
"What is this place?" he asked.
"Mr. Finklestein told you that the Buy More was only the tip of the iceberg with regard to his holdings," Amelia said. "This is the true heart of the empire-- espionage for hire. From here, Mr. Finkelstein collected intelligence and dispatched agents for corporate espionage, provided freelance intelligence work for friendly governments, and performed other activities requiring Mr. Finkelstein's… unique skill set and expertise."
Chuck glanced over at Casey. Casey's eyes were wide.
"This… This is wrong," Chuck said. He turned to Amelia, aghast. "We have to shut this down. We can't…"
He was brought up short by Casey's iron-like grip on his arm. "Not so fast, Bartowski," Casey said, a strange light in his eyes. "Not so fast."
