Hello again. Hope everybody is enjoying the story. And the first thing I do after establishing my update schedule is to fall behind. In my defense, I was taking care of a few financial/domestic issues, so I apologize for the updates. But let's face it: how many authors keep up a 7000-word-per-week pace? Or maybe I should take my time with these so I don't feel like I rushed through them.

A special shout-out to LittleChuckFan, who is one of the coolest, most dedicated Chuck fans out there. So much so, she helped raise over $5,000 for the St. Jude Children's Research Hospital with the help of Chuck fans. Way to go!

As always, please leave reviews. It's a good night. Chuck got a fourth season! (hopefully, but that's the news going around)

L Apparemment Café
March 31, 2011
9:00 PM

It was the end of another long day of reconnaissance. She was yawning a bit, but she tried to minimize it. At least it was a pleasant spring day in Paris, which meant more crowds. The sun was warm on her face when she was outside taking orders and pretending to blend in. But the day wore on, and without a new handoff, it was more tiresome than anything else.

She gave a quick goodbye to the night manager and began to walk down Rue des Coutures St-Gervais, heading back to her small apartment. As she looked down the street, she started to get that feeling. That extrasensory feeling most spies had when someone was watching them. Much to the consternation of her bosses, she trusted her instincts more than any other agent, and those instincts were telling her something was very wrong this particular night. She kept her movements as natural as possible, as any quick head turn would surely scare away all but the most clueless of individuals. A thief she could deal with quite easily. But it was rare someone went after her just for the twenty euros in her small purse.

She carefully fingered the Smith and Wesson Centennial 442 .38-caliber gun in her coat pocket. She found it personally insulting the DGSE still issued .22-caliber arms to its female agents, thinking they couldn't handle anything else. These days, most female agents had enough upper-body strength to handle a more powerful gun, but the higher-ups couldn't be convinced of it. She used to carry a Walther, but a trip to the States a few years back convinced her that the 442 would be easier to carry while doing the same job as the Walther. She had to admit almost having a change of heart about buying them when she found out they came in pink and lavender colors as well.

She made the turn onto the Rue Barbette and ducked behind the entrance to an art gallery. She heard two pairs of footsteps running towards her. Judging by the sound, both had to be male and rather large. She had respectable skills in hand-to-hand combat, but there were few female agents who could take on two large men if all three were equally skilled, and she wasn't one of them. She shallowed her breathing to not make a sound. She observed the two men go by. Unfortunately, her instincts were dead-on accurate. Based on the way they ran and looked around carefully, these were professionals after her. She waited until they got a safe distance away before she carefully peeked out from the gallery.

Unfortunately, she underestimated them by thinking they would underestimate her. They sent a three-man team after her, and the third grabbed her from behind.

She struggled hard against the third man. She tried to bring her foot up to break the man's shin, but he was keeping as much of his body away from her as possible. He tried to pin back her right arm while his left arm was around her neck. That was his mistake. His grip loosened slightly around her neck, and she used the opportunity to bite down hard on his hand. He screamed in pain, and it freed her hand enough to reach for her knife. She slashed at him and cut him across his arm. He recoiled at the pain and fell back from her. It was what she needed. She quick-drew her gun and drilled him through the head with a single shot.

Unfortunately, between his scream and the gunshot, the two sets of footprints were in a full sprint and heading back to her. She put a silencer on her gun and ran quickly, thankful that the waitress cover allowed her to wear shoes far more appropriate for running than high-heels. She got around the corner and waited. The two men stopped to check their partner. She admired agents who always had their partners' backs, but these were not agents. She may not have been able to take them on in a fight, but few people would ever out duel her on the pistol range. She shot them dead with a bullet through the chest for each.

She quickly turned and headed for the Metro. She couldn't go home, but she was enough of a rebel in the DGSE to realize she might run into this situation one day. She needed some time to figure things out, and the safehouse she arranged for herself, little more than a room at a hostel, would be needed tonight. She knew the person who worked there at night, and he would always accommodate her when she needed it. She always treated him well, and a little harmless flirtation still went a long way.

Fullerton's Bar, Tempe
April 2, 2011
5:00 PM

Erin Bailey knew this would be a long day. Unfortunately, the raucousness started early and would be ending late. The bar had been crowded since 2 PM with fans watching the Final Four. She wasn't even sure why people would be here. She didn't know much about basketball, but she knew there were no Pac 10 teams playing in either National Semifinal game today. However, given the sunburn several of the patrons in the bar had, she guessed they were from out of town, and perhaps their team was playing. She had to give them credit, though: they were more likely to tip well than the college kids.

She went back to the table where the lone person was sitting. He was fairly quiet. But when she checked on him, he certainly had manners. He wasn't bad to look at either.

"Can I get you anything else, sir?"

He flashed that same warm, sympathetic smile he had for the last two hours. He held up his drink. "I'm doing fine with this, but thank you for checking up on me."

Erin tried to give a smile. "Are you rooting for any team in particular?"

"Not really. I just like to watch the games. College basketball is more fun because of the fans."

Erin looked back at the screaming crowd. "Ordinarily I'd agree with you, but…"

"Awww. Rough night, huh."

She nodded. "Very rough. And it's just getting started."

"You never know. Maybe things will improve."

She smiled. "I can hope. Call me if you need anything."

Mr. Diaz watched the woman walk away. Fortunately, he was able to keep her at the table long enough during the afternoon for the device hiding in the booth across from him to scan her eyes. It operated on a low-powered beam so the person being scanned wouldn't notice it, other than feeling like their eyes were getting tired. That was the point of scanning her now; she would write it off as being stressed out. The bad news was, it would take time for the scan to compile and to be compared against the databases in The Ring's computer systems.

He observed Erin as she checked other tables. She was very attractive, but The Ring certainly had more than their fair share of attractive agents, both male and female. Erin appeared to be the right height, age, and build, but women who looked like her were a dime a dozen in Arizona, just like they were in California. But if this was Jill Roberts, he knew he needed time. Agents were easier to deal with once you captured them because so few people knew them personally. That was how it was supposed to work. Civilians were different. He couldn't just kidnap her and inject her like he did with Cole. Questions would be raised.

A little gaining of confidence and a spiked drink at just the right time would give him what he needed. Besides, the weather was really nice here, and The Ring would get the information they desire soon enough.

Malibu, CA
April 6, 2011
8:45 PM

Chuck couldn't lie. It was too damn tempting right now. How could you look at her and not want to kiss and caress her for the rest of your life?

He was starting to think this might be why Sarah said 'yes' to marrying him. He must have had the goofiest wide-eyed grin on his face right now in seeing Sarah in an elegant red dress. Her hair was pinned up so that one spot on her neck that drove her wild when Chuck kissed it was just sitting there, almost daring him to plant his lips on it.

Discipline, Chuck. Discipline, he thought.

Somehow he didn't think Sarah would appreciate it. Even though she had been stealing the occasional glance at Chuck in his tuxedo, they were on their way to a mission, and she liked to concentrate on the task at hand. It was always best to let her be unless he had a mission-related question to ask.

Besides, Morgan was less likely to put up the privacy screen in the front of the limo as quickly as Casey would if he had been driving them tonight.

Morgan's constant pestering about being more involved in missions was starting to wear on Chuck. Morgan's contributions thus far had been primarily of the intellectual variety, which Casey considered the ultimate irony. Tonight, however, he could be put to good use. At the very least, it allowed Casey to provide extra surveillance inside rather than having him in disguise as a limousine driver. Fortunately, the weekends he spent with Morgan practicing driving a stretch limo paid off. Morgan was really good at it.

The limousine pulled up to the mansion of Gray Matheson, a billionaire tycoon whom the CIA was investigating for passing top secret software programs to the Syrian government. Chuck and Sarah would have to sneak upstairs in the mansion to Matheson's office to plant a wireless transmitter on his computer, which would transmit all of the data to the servers at the CIA substation in Oxnard. It was a little trick he tried seven months ago in Las Vegas, and it worked to perfection. General Beckman decided to put his idea to use more often. It made things much easier, because it didn't require as much time as downloading the files to a memory stick. When you didn't want someone to know where you were, time was something you didn't want to waste.

"Morgan, keep an eye on things out here and let us know if anything looks out of the ordinary," Sarah told him.

"You got it. Are you sure you don't need me to in there and, like, create some sort of diversion? You know, they go after me and you two can slip out?"

"Uh no, Morgan," Chuck quickly replied. "As much as I appreciate your ability to cause trouble, I think it's best if you stay in the car on this one."

The door opened, and Chuck and Sarah exited. They walked up the steps to the mansion arm-in-arm.

"I get the feeling you're really starting to like telling people to stay in the car," Sarah said quietly to Chuck.

"I think it's best if he stays outside, don't you?" Chuck looked over at Sarah, who was assessing him with an amused gaze. "OK, I enjoy it a little."

They walked slowly through the grand entrance of the mansion. Chuck tried not to stare in awe at the staircase that spiraled above the entrance. Sarah was a bit more concerned.

"Casey, the main stairwell is too exposed. Anybody and everybody would see us walk up. Any alternate ways upstairs?"

Casey finished serving a drink to one of the guests and turned around behind the bar with his back to the crowd. "There's a stairwell just off the kitchen that the staff uses to get to the upper levels."

"And how do we sneak up that way without raising suspicion?" Chuck asked.

Chuck, Sarah, and Morgan could hear Casey's disgusted growl. "Really? I hope you registered for that Sex for Dummies book if you don't know the answer."

"OK, Casey. We get the idea," Sarah tiredly replied.

Chuck and Sarah made their way to the back of the ballroom near the kitchen. They had to wait for their moment to slip out of the crowd. Standing near the kitchen area, they quietly observed Matheson greet the crowd and give the typical self-congratulatory speech Sarah had heard at too many of these types of functions. She kept her arms around Chuck and kissed him in a more-than-friendly manner once or twice. Chuck got the message and played a little more hands-on with her. Certainly this would not be a problem now, but he still thought it a bit funny that two people who really were in love would have to pretend to be in love on a mission.

He wrapped his arms around Sarah and gave her a passionate kiss, and she replied by pressing up against him and hooking her leg around his to sell the cover…primarily. He started kissing along her neck on the side that didn't have an earpiece.

"I bet you're glad I'm here and not Casey," Chuck whispered with a bit of silliness.

Sarah couldn't help but laugh. "And what if I did make out with Casey for a mission?"

"I'd suggest you submit yourself for psychological evaluation."

Her smile got even wider. "OK, what if it was Jimmy?"

"HE'D suggest you submit yourself for psychological evaluation."

Sarah had to hold on tightly to stop herself from laughing hysterically. This was certainly not the time for it. "Chuck, it's mission time. And that was mean!"

"You're right. I'm sorry. But Jimmy would have come up with something even meaner."

Sarah smiled. "True, and I probably would have smacked him."

Matheson was starting to introduce a few guests, and the servers in the room were passing out champagne flutes for a toast. Chuck and Sarah quietly slipped into the kitchen, kissing and groping each other passionately to sell the cover of two lovers who needed some privacy. They made their way to the stairwell without a single person saying anything. Reluctantly, they split up and checked to see if anybody was following them.

They slowly ascended the stairs to a hallway connecting the three bedrooms on the third floor and an office next to the master bedroom. Chuck took out an electronic device to scan for the signal from the computer system. They quietly made their way to Matheson's office. Chuck kept watch in the hallway while Sarah picked the electronic lock. They entered the office, and Chuck pulled out a device he created in Castle to handle the data transfer even faster than his first successful attempt seven months ago. He plugged the device into the wireless connection and hid it underneath the desk.

"Uh, fellow agents?" Morgan's voice came over their earpieces. "Does it mean anything when ten or twelve guys who look like they could host their own pro wrestling show start putting their hands to their ear…and I mean ear, like, singular…and start running around?"

"It means you should get the car to the entrance right now," replied Sarah with a bit of tension behind it.

"Got it, boss." Morgan ran back to the limousine and started looking for the valet in a panic. "I'm buried back here! Can you move these things? Come on! Hot couple wants to do the No Way Out thing in my limo!"

Casey served his last drink and quietly slipped out from behind the bar, heading for the kitchen.

Chuck and Sarah went quickly to the door. Two guards were right outside. They ducked back inside and looked for another exit. Twenty feet down, they found another one. It wasn't enough for the both of them to escape undetected. Sarah pushed Chuck back into the room and dropped one of the straps on her dress. She stumbled into the hall.

"Baby, where are you? You can't hide all night from me," Sarah slurred as she stumbled around the hall, pretending to be drunk. The two guards immediately turned towards her.

"What are you doing up here?" One of the men asked in a commanding voice.

Sarah pretended to stumble and used the wall to hold herself up. "I'm looking for that cute guy I came here with. He said he had a big surprise for me and that I should meet him in the bedroom."

"You have to go back downstairs, miss," he replied in a tone growing in anger.

"But, where'm I going to find my date?" Sarah swayed back and forth, trying to sell her cover.

The guard turned to his partner. "Check the office." His partner entered the office where Chuck was. Sarah stumbled forward to the guard in the hall. She pointed to the stairs behind the guard.

"Awww, there you are, baby!" The guard turned, and Sarah gave him a shot to the back of the head. The guard fell forward down the stairwell. Sarah rushed into the office, and the other guard turned. He threw a punch at her, which she blocked and tried to return one of her own. She pivoted and swung her leg around to try and trip the guard. However, he jumped and turned in the air, landing 90 degrees from his original position…just in time to meet a roundhouse kick from Chuck. The second guard promptly went down.

"Casey, location," Sarah commanded into her watch.

"I'm in the kitchen. I'm heading your way," was Casey's reply.

"Stay down there. Go around the back and make your way to the front entrance. Morgan, get the limo up there, fast!"

Chuck checked the door again. The guard who fell down the stairs was running back up at a furious clip along with six others.

"I don't think we can act drunk again," Chuck said in a building panic.

Sarah went to the window by the desk. "Only one option left." She opened the window, and Chuck waited for her to climb out onto the roof. A piece of a shingle broke loose from under Sarah's feet and she tripped. She started tumbling down the roof.

"Sarah!" Chuck jumped out of the window and slid down the roof. He grabbed Sarah's wrist as she fell off the edge of the roof. He held on for dear life as he continued to slide down. He caught a rain gutter at the edge of the roof with his other hand.

"Chuck!" Sarah looked up at him as she grabbed his wrist as well. He looked underneath her.

"I'm going to swing you to that balcony. Jump down!"

Sarah nodded, and Chuck swung his arm back and forth in a pendulum. Sarah waited until the timing was perfect and jumped down onto the second floor balcony. Chuck tried to bring his arm back up, but he slid forward and fell off the roof. He desperately reached out with his hands and caught the balcony. Sarah reached over the balcony and grabbed his arm. He pulled himself up with much effort to get his knee on the edge of the balcony. Sarah held onto him until he swung his legs over the balcony and stood safely on it. Both of them were gasping for air, partly from exertion and partly from relief.

They looked up to see the guards look outside and run back, presumably running for the stairs. Chuck looked down and saw it was a much shorter drop to the lawn behind the house from the second floor balcony. He dropped to the ground and then caught Sarah as she leaped down as well.

They pressed themselves against the building and slowly made their way around to the front. A guard spotted them as they made around the side of the mansion. He pulled out his radio, only to be met by Casey's fist. The guard fell to the ground. Casey noticed their disheveled appearance and haggard breathing.

"Tell me you didn't stop for a quickie on the way out," he sneered.

Chuck shook his head. "You're a riot, Case."

They made a beeline for the limousine, and Morgan drove away quickly, heading back to Burbank.

Moscow, Russia
April 7, 2011
11:00 AM

Taytia Amasova exited the Metro line at the Oktyabrskaya Station. At least, anybody who asked her would find out she is Taytia. The good news about her brunette hair and smoky brown eyes was that she blended in perfectly in so many different countries, with Russia being one of them. She walked out of the station with her coat wrapped tightly around her like so many Muscovites walking near her. Like them, her head was tipped slightly towards the ground, but her eyes would dart up on occasion to make sure she knew where she was going. The French Embassy was her destination.

It was a trip that she didn't want to take. However, she had a day or two to think about the three men who attacked her. Clearly they were professional; their demeanor and skill gave that away. Mere thieves would not be so comprehensive and methodical attacking her. The one or two who ever tried did not live to tell the tale. The reasons behind the attack were also very clear. Someone betrayed her at the DGSE. Was it Laurent? Was it Dr. Gauthier? She had known both of them for at least ten years. She couldn't believe either of them would want her dead. Whoever was behind the attack on her, they did not want her finding out about the connection between her mark and the Consulate in Moscow.

She walked slowly past the Consulate and noted the security measures. If she wanted to stay alive, she needed the evidence. A photo of a letterhead taken with a mobile phone was far from solid proof. She had to discover what was going on. Her surveillance on one end almost got her killed. Perhaps she could find out what was going on from the other end.

Echo Park
April 7, 2011
11:30 PM

Chuck and Sarah prepared for bed at the end of a very long day. Following last night's near-disaster at Gray Matheson's mansion, they crashed in their bedroom, not the least bit interested in filling out paperwork. Today was spent in Castle writing reports and trying to explain themselves to Beckman. The General was not one to listen to excuses, no matter how valid they were. Beckman also chose to ignore the fact that they got the incriminating information off of Matheson's computer; she still wanted to know how a few bodyguards almost resulted in the deaths of two of her agents, particularly one holding government secrets in his head.

Sarah emerged from the bathroom after brushing her teeth in a pair of long shorts and one of Chuck's t-shirts. Although she wore her barely-there panties or lingerie more than a few times recently, clearly she was in no mood to make love tonight. If she was, Chuck never would have made it to the bed in his standard plain t-shirt and boxers. Facts were facts. If someone like Sarah Walker wanted you naked, you got naked.

Chuck slid under the covers on his side of the bed as Sarah did the same on her side. She slid up to Chuck and gave him a kiss, caressing him gently in the process. It was more for her comfort than anything else. She needed to feel him in her arms following last night. The two of them had been in scrapes far worse than dealing with a dozen security guards and a rooftop. But something struck an unfamiliar chord about last night's mission.

"Are you OK, sweetie?" Sarah sat up in the bed and looked into his sweet brown eyes.

"Sure," he replied rather unconvincingly.

It didn't take years of CIA training to figure out what was going through Chuck's mind. "You're still thinking about last night." Chuck nodded silently. "There's nothing wrong with that. I've been thinking about it myself."

Chuck's arms came around her and she sighed contentedly as she rested her head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat.

"I've been trying, Sarah. I swear I've been trying to put it out of my mind. But I can't stop thinking about what we risk every time we go out there. I wanted to talk to you about it, but I was afraid you wouldn't…that you're too…I don't know."

"That I wouldn't understand what you were going through?"

"I'm sorry. I should have just talked to you. But I didn't want you to worry."

Sarah caressed his face. "Worrying about the person you love is part of the package. You can't have just the good times. You have to go through the bad times as well. It's being able to do it together that makes a relationship so special."

Chuck smiled. "That's very profound coming from a woman who was so afraid of being in a relationship at first."

She gave a little laugh. "Now, we both know I'm not very good at relationships." She wiggled her eyebrows at him and started planting kisses along his neck. "Some parts I'm better at than others, though."

Chuck moaned softly and decided turnabout was fair play. He started devouring that one spot on her neck that drove her wild. Her moans were outdistancing his.

"And you're damn good at those things, too," Sarah panted. Chuck gave her a triumphant smile, which made her laugh heartily. She kissed him passionately.

"So, what are you thinking?" Chuck asked Sarah as he gently brushed her hair away from her face.

She was silent for a moment. "I think I wasn't sure at first. We tried to leave before, but something just didn't feel right about it. Maybe it was because we rushed through it or we thought we couldn't have a love life and a spy life at the same time. It…it feels different now. I felt what you felt last night. I feel like I have so much to lose now. I don't know. I'm…I'm…"

Chuck held her close. "What? Tell me."

"I'm just scared of what happens next. Being a spy is all I've known for the last ten years. Until I met you, I didn't know there could be anything else. I didn't know what it was like to have people love you and care about you the way you do. I guess I'm not used to thinking about what I want. And now everybody is telling me to do just that. They're even making sacrifices so we can live whatever life we want. I wish I knew how to feel about taking that next step. To not be an agent anymore. To live a more normal life."

Chuck nodded and held her tightly. "I know. I'm scared as well. I never expected the last four years to go like they did. We've been through everything. But look where we are now. In each other's arms and at the beginning of a life together that we control. I wouldn't change a thing." He paused and laughed. "OK, maybe not as many dives off of buildings and fewer guns pointed at me." Sarah laughed as well and squeezed him tightly.

He gave her a gentle kiss on the temple. "But after all of that, I look at what I have. How can it not be right when I have the woman I love with me now?"

Sarah held his face in her hands and gave him a loving kiss, holding him tightly and expressing her feelings for him as their lips intertwined in their passion for each other. They looked into each other's eyes.

"So, do we tell Beckman?" Chuck asked gently.

Sarah wore a smile that lit up the darkened room. "Are you sure you can be at a computer all day instead of carrying a tranq pistol?"

Chuck's smile matched hers. "Are you sure you can handle sitting in an office telling college kids how the world really works instead of kicking ass?"

They paused for a moment to enjoy each other's gaze. They knew the choice both of them wanted to make. They resumed their passionate kissing, quickly pulling each other's clothes off and embracing the person with whom they shared an unending love.

Fullerton's Bar, Tempe
April 8, 2011
2:00 AM

Erin Bailey had to admit that seeing Michael at the end of the bar was the highlight of her week.

She struck up a conversation with him last Saturday while stressing out after a long day of college basketball, loud music, and too much boozing on the part of the students. He had spent every night at the bar since then. Besides being a very good tipper, Michael always let her unload about how bad her day went. He liked to listen rather than talk. The most she knew about him was that he was in real estate, and he was brokering some deals to buy some houses that had been on the market for some time because of the bad economy. If it went through, it would make him a lot of money.

Tonight, he sat at the bar. Even though her station was some distance away, she always talked to him while getting her drink orders from the bartender. He wasn't the most handsome man she ever met, but she had enough experience with the handsome ones to know that beauty truly was skin deep. Thus far, ugly hadn't gone to the bone with Michael.

"And that's my last customer," she said tiredly as she sat down next to Michael. "Don't you have some deals to make tomorrow?"

"Not until the afternoon. Just have to close on a few contracts. My attorney is going over them in the morning."

Erin went behind the bar and made herself a drink before leaving for the night. "Do you want anything else?"

Michael smiled. "I'm fine. Thank you for offering."

Erin smiled at Michael's green eyes. They added a few points to his attractiveness factor. She never gave much thought to dating anybody or fooling around with them since that day she escaped from the Fulcrum training facility, thanks to Chuck. But it wasn't as if the man wanted to get to know her better. Not outside of the bedroom, anyway.

She put her drink on the bar and returned to the seat she previously occupied. Michael moved her drink closer to her. Erin never noticed this movement as she grabbed the shotglass and downed it in one gulp.

"So, what do you do for fun besides work here?"

"Not much, really. I work a lot of hours here, and I don't have time for hobbies or partying. Besides, I don't think I can keep up with these college kids. It was so much different than when I went through school."

"Where did you go to school?"

"Stanford," she replied, her voice a bit slurred. Had her mind picked up on it, she would have known something was wrong. She had been telling everybody she went to UC-Santa Barbara.

Michael gave a slight smile since he figured she would lie about her past. The serum he slipped in her drink was working properly. Time to lead her to the information he needed.

"What did you major in?"

"Molecular biology," was the reply instead of her standard Classical Literature lie. She was starting to feel very drunk for only having one shot.

"That must have been fun. I'm sure you had someone special there."

"Chuck. Chuck Bartowski. He was such a sweet guy. So much more handsome than he realized. That was the best part of him. Never arrogant."

"Wow," Michael replied, trying to remain nonchalant about the rather large piece of the puzzle Jill Roberts revealed. "Do you still talk to him? When did you see him last?"

Jill hung her head. "Two years ago. I helped him look for his father, Stephen. He was kidnapped. He was desperate to find him. I don't know if he ever did."

And there's the connection, Mr. Diaz thought. The Ring knew about Stephen Bartowski and his work on the Intersect. And The Ring also knew that Chuck worked closely with the CIA in Castle, but his actual connection was unknown. Jill just gave him a plausible working theory. There had been rumors flying around that there were two working Intersects under the protection of the CIA. One died 18 months ago while taking out The Ring's installation in Los Angeles. The damage he caused was significant but not beyond recovery. Was this Chuck the other Intersect?

Jill leaned too far on her stool and started to fall. Mr. Diaz caught her. "I think she needs a taxi home," he called to the bartender putting the chairs up on the tables.

"Is she that drunk? She usually only has one drink."

"I think she was taking some allergy medication earlier. Maybe that did it."

"Dammit. I wanted to get out of here."

"It's OK. Call the taxi, and I'll make sure she gets in it."

"Are you sure about that?" The bartender eyed Mr. Diaz warily, but the man hadn't caused any problems the entire week, which was more than the bartender could say with most of the patrons.

"It's fine. I don't mind. I'll wait outside with her for the cab."

"Thanks," the bartender replied as he reached for the phone.

Mr. Diaz guided Jill outside. A few minutes later, the bartender came out, locked the front door, and set the alarm.

"Are you sure you don't mind waiting?"

"Not a problem. I can sleep in tomorrow," Mr. Diaz replied to the bartender.

"Thanks a lot." The bartender got into his car and drove off.

Mr. Diaz breathed a sigh of relief. Had the bartender insisted on staying, he would have had to dispose of his body. He had no problem with killing innocent civilians, but murder complicated his job. He liked to keep things simple. For that same reason, it would be much easier to dump Jill's body somewhere in Mexico. She would wake up in a few days with no idea where she was. With no phone or money, it would take time before she was found. By the time she could give a description of him…medium height, medium build, nothing that stood out…he would be halfway across the country.

Haverford, Pennsylvania
April 14, 2011
7:15 AM

Alex Forrest pulled into the driveway of her brother's house. Instantly, she knew something was wrong, since his wife's SUV was still in the driveway. Usually by this time, she was driving Ashley to school. She entered the house and saw Michael III, Danni, and their kids standing there, still in their pajamas. Mikey and Danni had the same vacant looks on their faces, and Danni was holding onto Beverly tightly.

Alex could feel a few tears coming herself. It was obvious why they were still there.

"How long ago?" Alex whispered, struggling to get the words out.

Danni shook her head. "We don't know. It was sometime during the night. We went up there a few minutes ago."

Alex ran up the stairs to her father's room. His eyes were closed. His hands were clasped together over his chest. Most likely, Michael put his hands in that position after checking. Her father believed in God and an afterlife, but her job didn't give her that luxury. She wished like hell it did now.

"Dad," she whispered, gently placing her hand on his as her tears came.

Castle Underground Facility
April 14, 2011
10:00 AM

Chuck and Sarah were on videoconference with General Beckman and Jimmy Slade. They waited a few days to tell the General, talking about it at great length with each other to make certain this was what they truly wanted. After all, it meant uprooting their lives once again. Before, the possibility of leaving always hung over their heads with a cold sense of dread. If a complete change had occurred before now, it would have been to protect Chuck from imminent danger. But now it was about new jobs and a new life. To be more accurate, it was about new jobs in the CIA and a life they wanted for the last two years.

"You are certain you want to do this?" General Beckman asked them in as serious of a tone as they ever heard from her. "Once we put this in motion, there is no going back."

"We're certain, General," Sarah replied. "We want to do this."

Jimmy smiled. "Well, I'll try to keep the country safe for you. Hopefully, the most danger you'll ever get in is shopping on Black Friday."

"What happens next?" Chuck asked.

"I'm going to meet up with your father to help him tailor the new Intersect so my mind can handle it. Once it's ready and I've gone through…a million tests, I'm sure…he's going to configure the program to take yours out. As soon as it's ready, you'll see me out there."

"This is why we want to make sure this is what you want, Chuck," Beckman cautioned him. "The new Intersect is designed for Agent Slade and ONLY Agent Slade. If something prevents him from uploading it, the new Intersect MUST be destroyed. It can't fall into enemy hands."

"General, did The Ring ever make progress on building its own Intersect?" Sarah asked.

"As far as we know, Agent Walker, they haven't gotten significantly closer than they were a year ago when Daniel Shaw tried to steal the plans for the Cipher. We've kept those plans under the tightest security since Colonel Casey recovered them. Obviously, we won't risk those plans being stolen again. They'll stay safe until Orion is ready for them."

"Is there anything else, General?" Chuck asked.

The General was silent for a moment. "Unfortunately, I have to pass some bad news on to you. British Intelligence found Agent Cole Barker a few days ago in an abandoned warehouse in London. He was killed in an explosion. As of right now, they have no leads into what happened, but they are investigating."

Chuck and Sarah were stunned into silence. Jimmy looked back and forth between the General and Chuck and Sarah.

"Sarah, was he the MI-6 agent you told me about? He got shot the same way I did?"

Sarah hung her head and nodded gently.

"Oh, wow. I'm sorry, guys."

Chuck had a sudden look of worry. General Beckman picked up on it.

"Chuck, we considered the possibility his death might be related to you somehow. However, British Intelligence told us he had been working on tracking down an al Qaeda cell that may have been operating in London. His death is probably related to that."

Chuck nodded. "Yeah, that would make sense."

"We'll keep you in the loop if we find out anything. In the meantime, just continue to do your jobs until Orion is ready to take your Intersect out."

The LCD screen went blank. Sarah moved over next to Chuck and took his hand. "Are you OK?"

Chuck was subdued. "I guess. I just never wanted to have anything bad happen to Cole. He was a good man."

Sarah squeezed his hand tightly. "One of the best I ever worked with. Present company excluded, of course."

He gave her a slight smile and held her hand in his.

Las Cruces, NM
April 16, 2011
11:00 AM

His plan took a considerable amount of time. However, given the important link Jill Roberts provided, Mr. Diaz, the time it took to leave her on a road just outside of Bajadita was well worth it. The tranquilizer, if his scheduling was accurate, would keep Jill unconscious long enough for him to drive at least 8 hours away. He disabled the security cameras outside of the bar before putting Jill in his own car and driving her down to Mexico. No doubt they would report her missing, but the description wouldn't turn up anything of significance. Running his fingerprints would only bring up the file of a man who died in 2002, and his physical description would narrow the list down to a few thousand men who looked similar to him.

He was waiting for a plane to fly him to Dallas, where he would transfer for his flight to Washington, D.C. He kept a low profile in Las Cruces while waiting for information to come in. He planned to meet with Dana Browning, who was his contact there. When he last talked to her, she was working on something important, but she hadn't gone into specifics.

His mobile phone ringing with her Caller ID might be what he needed right now.

"Hello?"

"I think you now have what you need to double your price with The Ring. Get on your laptop and download the file I sent you."

Mr. Diaz did as he instructed. He looked at the photograph on his monitor.

"This is Jimmy Slade. He's dead. How did you want me to talk to him? Through a séance?"

"No. Run the program," Dana replied. "This was the theory I was talking about before."

Mr. Diaz watched the file of Jimmy Slade. It was a video showing time-lapse photography of Jimmy losing weight, his hair color changing, and his frame packing on muscle.

Mr. Diaz stopped dead in his tracks at the final image. No way in hell, he thought.

He immediately went to the file in his computer that contained a picture of Roger Murdock. That photo bore a more-than-passing resemblance of a thin Jimmy Slade.

"How much time has elapsed between the two pictures?" Mr. Diaz asked Dana.

"About a year."

"Are you saying this guy came back from the dead, dropped 200 pounds, and became an agent?"

"If all he did in a year was train, get in shape, and did nothing else, technically it's possible. The dates would certainly check out. Roger Murdock was briefly seen around Castle just under a year after Jimmy Slade died. Or supposedly died."

"If you're right, then someone just moved up the priority list. But they have Murdock going everywhere doing everything right now. He'll be hard to track down."

"Actually, the news gets better. If the rumors I heard are true, he'll be making a visit to Philadelphia soon to pay his condolences to another person on your list."

Mr. Diaz checked the other file that Dana sent. It was a picture of Alex Forrest. A smile came across his face.

"I think you're right. The Ring can double my fee. And once you steal the plans for the Cipher, they'll still think they're getting a bargain."

Dana quickly hung up her phone. She used her own mobile phone, but she wasn't sure how good the monitoring devices were inside of the offices of the Director of National Intelligence. Better safe than sorry.