A/N: The ownership of Chuck is kept somewhere inside Warner Brothers Studios in Burbank, California. I'm thinking it might be hidden in the famous water tower.
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The six agents sat together in the living room of a large apartment off a side street in Interlaken. Claude was with Stressor, processing Federov and Oblonsky through the Swiss legal system, leaving Bressard and Lt. Colonel Marie Fabron hosting the American team. A coffee setup with a large French press was on the low table at their knees. Bressard seemed at ease with the Americans; Fabron as well, except for Casey. Her eyes easily took in the others in the room, but wouldn't remain on Casey for more than a scant moment.
Chuck entered something onto his computer on his lap and pointed to the large tv screen in front of them, which he had turned into a monitor. "Here are Federov's secured files. Using the computers I found in Suite 712 of the hotel, I remotely accessed his records. Seems he keeps a server in Panama. But, I don't read Russian, so..."
"One moment, please, Agent Carmichael," interrupted Bressard, holding his coffee cup in two hands. "Our people were trying for years to get into his files. How did you manage in a couple of hours?" He didn't sound at all dubious, just legitimately curious.
"Unlike your guys, Agent Bressard, I had the hardware available to me. Federov's hardware. The access seemed to be controlled by a password, but his guy had an iris scanner in the room. That didn't make any sense to me. It's a pretty complicated bit of tech to bring all the way from Moscow to Interlaken for nothing. Turns out the iris scan was the way in. The password was a dummy. It was just there to distract a hacker. Waste time. Your guys must have been trying to crack a phony password."
"But Victor was with us," said Fabron. "You couldn't get to his iris."
"True, but his man was with me. That guy needed access as administrator for all of Federov's systems. And, guess what? That guy's iris looks pretty much the same whether or not he's awake. But he's a pretty big guy and it wasn't easy to move him around to the scanner..."
"How can you get to it now? Here?" asked Bressard gestured to the computer page displayed on the TV in front of them. "Through our system and without anyone's iris?"
"Well, first off, I'm using an encrypted hot spot, so I don't have to go through your system or wi-fi at all. Also, once I got in the first time, I installed a back door onto his system," said Chuck, handing over a small flash drive. "This is for you guys. It's the procedure to get in through the back door I made. It's undetectable and leaves the door open for you or any of your investigators to take a look at whatever you want, whenever you want. Just don't leave any evidence that you were there, if you want to be there covertly." Chuck didn't think it was necessary to mention that he was giving them access through only one of two back doors he'd created into Federov's system. If the French thought they could monopolize the intelligence to be drawn from that server, they would have made a mistake. If they tried to close the door he'd given them, the effort would be fruitless against the American agencies he worked for. Not that he distrusted the French, of course.
"Oh, my God," said Fabron, stunned. "His whole system? It's all open to us?"
"Well, yeah," said Chuck. "I know you guys want him...I mean you had the DAP guys arrest him and everything. If you're going to try him, you need the evidence, and I don't know what French laws are for this kind of computer search. Or Swiss laws, maybe." Chuck shrugged. "Anyway, I don't know what you have to do in order to use the information you get from his systems this way, but I guess that's up to your prosecutors. You'll have to extradite him across the border to France, of course."
"Stressor has assured us that, in these circumstances, the extradition will be purely pro-forma," said Bressard. "Seems the Swiss don't want to piss off Moscow any more than they have to. They'd much rather let Paris take the heat from Putin, even if he's about to step down. Maybe from Medvedev in a couple of months, I guess."
"In addition to the private files," said Chuck, "I also found the files for the transactions to hide his money offshore. These are in a bunch of different languages, but there are some in English. Those I was able to look at. Much of it is now stashed in the Caribbean. I guess you'll be able to claw that back or something, if you want to. He bought an estate on the north side of Trinidad, big house, grounds, pools. Looks nice from the pictures."
While they had been talking, Casey had been studying the information displayed. "What's that?" asked Casey, pointing to the screen.
"This is what I wanted to show you. It's the first one. I can't read the words, Case, they're obviously in Cyrillic, but from the numbers and set up it appears to be a transaction register. Customers, dates, amounts, and...I guess, this entry..." He pointed to something on the screen. "...would be the product or products sold. As I said, I can't read it. This particular one seems to be for the Ivory Coast, if that part..." He pointed again. "...means what it says. We know that he was a supplier to the rebels there..."
"Yes. It was because of that support that President Chirac ordered us to infiltrate his organization and shut him down. Then President Sarkozy kept the operation alive when he assumed the office. We put a man in to get evidence. Well, we tried to anyway. The man we tried to put in was murdered by Oblonsky. We can't prove it, but we have high confidence that he pulled the trigger," said Fabron.
"His support for the rebels...yeah." Chuck continued, "I can't really read all of these, but I was able to look at several other transaction registers. All of them have one thing in common."
"What's that?" asked Sarah.
"They end about a year ago. No more transactions. Looks like he stopped doing business. Case, what he told you about getting out of the line of work is borne out by his own private records. Umm, told Colonel Fabron, I mean. He seems to have been done. Finished. He's not an arms dealer anymore, he's an ex-arms dealer."
"Oh..." said Bressard. Fabron was studying something on the carpet at her feet as if it were really, really interesting. Taking a deep breath and holding tight to the flashdrive, Bressard continued, "Extraordinary work, Carmichael. Truly. This is wonderful. I had worried that with Marie blown this operation would be a wash out. Thank you for your help. Not just you, but all four of you. Without your assistance we might not have been able to nail Federov."
"And I might be dead," said Fabron. She addressed herself to the American team as a whole, but she still seemed unable to look Casey in the eye.
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A few hours later, Casey, Amy, Sarah and Chuck were sitting in the hotel's bar, drinking German beer and French wine and chatting. They were all scheduled to leave in the morning. Casey and Amy to Los Angeles, Sarah and Chuck to DC. The Russians at the hotel were subdued. The groom and best man had been arrested and the bride had disappeared, and that tended to put a damper on the wedding festivities. The hotel staff was dismantling the wedding preparations.
Casey's phone beeped with an incoming message. He looked down and said, "It's from Marie. She wants to meet with me for a coffee. Not around the Russians, obviously."
"Can't say I blame her," said Sarah. "These people probably want to … punish her for their friends' arrest." She had stopped herself from saying 'kill her' given Casey's history with the woman.
"Yeah," said Casey, but he didn't move right away. Eventually, he sighed and typed a short message into the phone.
As Casey was standing up, Chuck said, "You want one of us to come with you?"
"Naw. Thanks, kid, but I think I got this one. See you all later."
"Ok, Case," said Chuck. "Be safe."
Casey grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and headed out of the hotel. About a block away from the hotel entrance he found her standing silently in a pool of shadow, her hood pulled up over her head and her hands jammed into the pockets of her jacket. Her breath was visible in the cold night air. He nodded to her and she nodded back.
Silently they began to walk through the streets. She was leading him to a coffee shop she knew a few blocks from the hotel. They kept their eyes open for anyone who might want to do either of them ill. She had just made a hotel full of enemies and was still alert for that danger.
The coffee shop was a quiet place, particularly at that hour. They took seats along the wall facing the door and twisted a bit so they could each face both each other and the door. A waitress came and took coffee orders. Other than while ordering coffee, neither had said a word.
Marie was tearing a paper napkin into tiny pieces and not looking at Casey. She didn't appear to be looking at the paper in her fingers either. After a while, she looked up at him and said, "I'm sorry, John."
"It's ok, Ilsa...Marie. Sorry. Old habits. I have to get used to calling you Marie. It's ok. Don't worry about it."
"No, it's not, John..."
"Marie, you thought I was a civilian. You faked your death to get out of a relationship with a civilian. I get it. I really do. I get it. You had to do what you had to do."
She looked at him for a while, amazed that he had so easily accepted her prior actions, and said, "Yes. That's exactly what I did. But, I had reasons to do it, John. Reasons why I couldn't be in a relationship with you. I was disappearing and heading into a long term assignment. I had to cut contacts...I..."
"I know. It was work. These jobs suck for relationships. I know. We've all been there. It sucks." she nodded, glad that he understood. He reached out and squeezed her hand, but did not leave his hand touching hers. "How'd you fake the bombing in Grozny?" He hoped the change in the subject, to the more mundane operational question, might move her away from her own perceived guilt at her past behavior.
"I didn't. I was looking for a way to break up with you when I was almost killed in the bombing. I have a scar on my shoulder from a piece of shrapnel that caught me. When I saw what had happened, I ...well, I took advantage of it. I knew if I disappeared you would...everyone would...assume that I had died in the bombing. The Trinchina identity was being retired anyway. It had drawn too much notice in the Bekka Valley and it was time for it to go. So, getting rid of Trinchina and breaking up with you...well, it was sort of...well, it worked out for me. I'm sorry."
"Yeah. Well, this life sucks sometimes," he said.
"Yeah," she responded, with a sad smile.
They sat quietly for a few moments. Then he said, humor in his eyes, "Russian accent gone and you speak English like an American."
With a slight grin, and looking at him from under her lashes, she said, "Two years at Notre Dame. Fighting Irish." They fell into silence again, drinking their coffee. Unlike the prior silences, this one was more comfortable.
"So, what now?" he asked.
"John, I don't think I can just pick up where we left off. Too much..."
"No, no, no. That's not what I meant. Not you and me. That's history now. I meant what now for you with work. Two years you've been trying to shut down Federov's operation. And now you did it."
"Yeah...I did. Not exactly how I'd intended to when I got started on the assignment, but successful anyway." She was silent for a while, moving the paper scraps she'd created around the table with the tip of her finger. "I guess they will debrief me and my team and use us to go through the files that Carmichael found for us...He's hot shit, by the way...Carmichael. I'll get a pat on the back. A promotion maybe. I was under for a year and a half. I'm probably going to be spending a lot of time with the psychiatrists. Then, I hope, a long vacation. Someplace that isn't Moscow. Someplace with decent wine, for sure."
Casey thought about being that deep under for that long. Damn.
"You did good, Marie," said Casey eventually. His voice was still a deep growl, but his eyes were understanding.
"Did I? Did I really? I don't think I know anymore. I was under for a long time this time. I've never been under that long...and never that deep. Victor really fell in love with me, John. He really did...I did my job too well, I guess...it sucks. It really sucks." She looked more angry than sad, which might or might not have been a good thing, thought Casey. "I wonder sometimes if it's what I signed up for, you know? We do the most terrible things, all in the name of the good guys. We make the world safer...at least that's what we tell ourselves. But to do it, we have to become the very people we are fighting, or worse. At what point have I crossed the line? At what point am I irredeemable?"
"Marie, you stepped out to Federov this afternoon and saved his life. No question about it. He was prepared, eager even, to have us kill him and you walked right up to his gun and disarmed him. That wasn't the action of someone who was irredeemable. That was someone who still knows right from wrong and still acts with honor and compassion. Someone who knows where the lines are and puts herself at risk to see that they aren't crossed."
"Maybe, John. Maybe, but the things I had to do..." Her voice drifted off to silence once again.
"I'm not really good at this, Marie, but...I understand. I mean, I think I understand...but I'm not a woman and...listen, Sarah, on my team, would be happy to talk to you about it if you need a receptive ear. Above and beyond your company's shrinks, of course. I've been with her for a few months now and there's no one whose judgment I value more. Well, Carmichael, maybe... but he's a guy..and this situation... Anyway, I'm sure she'd be happy to talk to you, or just listen, if you thought that would help."
"Thanks. I'll keep that offer in mind." They finished their coffees and paid the check.
As they were walking back towards Casey's hotel, Marie said, "So, what now for you, Mr. Energy Consultant?" There was a smile in her voice as she put her arm through his.
"Work. I'm based in LA, so I head back there tomorrow."
"Is that your permanent home? I thought you lived in DC."
"I do...I did. I'm on a long term assignment in LA and I'm planning to move my permanent residence there. I like the climate. The only thing DC has that's going for it is that it's closer to my boss. That's not the benefit it once seemed," he said with a rough grin.
They arrived back at the shadows where he had found her. "This is where I say goodbye, Sugar Bear. Good luck." She stretched up and kissed him. It wasn't a passionate kiss, but rather it had a flavor of longing for a life that was not available to her...to either of them. He understood.
"You too, Marie. Good luck. And, for what it's worth, I'm glad you're not dead." He turned away and left her in the cold shadows.
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A/N2: Melancholy ending, I guess, but none of the good guys are feeling particularly triumphant as a result of Federov's downfall. Throughout this never-ending story of mine I seem to be thanking my friend LetsGoRed fairly regularly. This chapter is no different. I must thank him for pointing out to me that what Marie did to Casey in Grozny was exactly what Casey had done to Kathleen. Once Casey recognized that, he couldn't very well be mad at Marie. I tried to have his reaction reflect that unfortunate parallel.
A/N3: Next up is an interlude before the return to Burbank. A quick stop in DC for Chuck to teach some tech guys how to be better at their jobs.