A/N: Hello, my friends. I'm back again like a bad penny. Still virus-free, thank goodness. (My family and I just got tested and came out ok.) We had a pretty bad run in my city for a while, but now things are calmer. Although, elsewhere in my country things are currently very scary. I worry for my friends and family in those places. Please, everyone, be safe and listen to the scientists and doctors rather than the politicians.
A/N2: Guess you all know by now that I don't own Chuck or any of these great characters who seem to have taken up residence in my head.
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Recap: Newly installed in their headquarters beneath Burbank's Castle Studios, Team B awaits two unnamed agents sent by Graham and Beckman to assist them in preventing Fulcrum from obtaining a decryption "key" from software designer Otto Von Vogel.
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"I don't get it," said Chuck, exasperated. "Where are they? The conference is starting in a minute and whoever Graham and Beckman sent aren't here yet. They haven't even buzzed from upstairs."
Casey grunted and Amy nodded. Sarah said, "We start the call anyway. They aren't here, they aren't here. Eventually, they get to explain it to the bosses. Not our problem. We were given a time to call, we call." Amy made an agreeing noise.
Casey, Amy, Sarah and Chuck, stood in front of the large wall monitor in Castle waiting for the call to start. The two mystery agents sent by Beckman and Graham seemed to be running late.
Right on time, the screen activated to show a split screen of Graham and Beckman. "Good morning, team."
"Morning, Sir, Ma'am," said Sarah.
"Have the agents I sent to you arrived yet?" asked Graham.
"No, Sir. It seems they..."
"We're here," came a man's voice from the direction of the back of Castle. All four members of Team Bartowski turned to look in that direction with surprise as a man and woman came hurrying over to them from the back. Casey gave a quiet growl.
The newcomers didn't seem too concerned about their unorthodox entrance. He was a medium sized man with somewhat graying hair, hard, intelligent eyes, and a fake smile that didn't make it to the eyes. She was a small woman with dyed red hair and a scowl. Both were casually dressed.
They made their way up to the area in front of the screen. "Langston. Diane," the man said.
"Rich. Peg. Always with the dramatic entrance, huh?" asked Beckman with a sour expression.
"Not at all. Just running late so we took a shortcut," said the woman.
Chuck said, gesturing behind him, "How did you..."
"Get into your secret headquarters? It's not as secure as you seem to think it is, son," said the man.
"We'll tell you later," said the woman with a dismissive wave of her hand.
Sarah wrinkled her brow. The new arrivals didn't seem too concerned about making a good first impression.
"Play nice, you two. These agents may be younger than you are, but they are an incredibly talented and successful team. Don't make me already regret introducing you to them," said Graham with a scowl, offset with obvious affection for the newcomers.
"Too soon, huh, Director? You know you'll regret it before the mission is over," said the man with a somewhat wolfish grin and a twinkle in his eye.
"I hope not. Not this time. Anyway, meet Team Bartowski. Agent Amy Turner, Major John Casey of the NSA, Agent Sarah Walker and Agent Charles Carmichael. Walker and Carmichael are a couple. They remind me of you both when you were young and in love..."
The man groaned and rolled his eyes. The woman slapped him on the shoulder with an annoyed look.
Graham continued, "...Guys, I'd like to introduce you to Craig and Laura Turner."
Amy Turner looked up with surprise. "Turner?"
Laura Turner gave Amy with a somewhat condescending look and, laying a hand on her arm, said, "Since we've only been using those names for about four years, I don't think we're related, dear."
"Yes," said Graham. "Your new friends have been known by several names over the years. George and Betsy Witherspoon..."
"Holy shit," said Sarah, turning to look at them somewhat wide eyed, "you stopped the Air France hijacking in '86."
The Turners sort of shrugged.
"And, John and Suzi Smythe..." said Beckman.
Amy turned to them next and said, a little breathlessly, "You broke up the uranium smuggling ring in 1981. There was a case study at the Farm."
Again, they shrugged with little smiles.
"Suffice it to say that these two have been among our most accomplished and successful agents for decades. Dozens of successful missions over the years," said Graham.
"And..." said Beckman, "...they have also been married to each other for...more or less...the whole time."
Sarah and Chuck both looked at them with surprise and respect and Amy with interest. Casey just looked sort of grumpy.
"General, Director, don't embarrass us with our history. That was a long time ago. We were other people then."
"Nonsense, Agent Turner. You are the most successful married couple the CIA has ever had," said Graham.
"The most successful?" asked Sarah with a small smile.
"Well, among the most successful," said Graham, with a return smile.
"Smart move, Langston. Wouldn't want word to get back to Anna that you dismissed your successes as a team," said Laura Turner. "So, anyway, what's this mission about?"
"Von Vogel again," said Graham.
"Ah, what now?" asked Craig.
"I told you we should have picked him up three years ago," said Laura, again looking unhappy. Unhappiness seemed to be her resting state.
"Not again, Laura. You know that. We can't just pick up talented software people and kidnap them to work for us. There are laws and things to prevent that," said Graham.
"Much as we might want to," said Beckman.
"We're the good guys," said Craig firmly. "Anyway, Director, what about Von Vogel?"
"Seems he's developed some decryption software that Fulcrum wants to get its hands on," said Graham.
"Fulcrum?" Craig Turner said the word as if it tasted bad and he wanted it out of his mouth as quickly as possible. "Bastards."
"Amen to that," said Laura. "So, what do you need us to do? Access his residence and steal the software before Fulcrum gets their hands on it?"
"Yes," said Beckman, folding her hands in front of her. "Exactly. There's a formal party at his home this evening. You will crash the party and retrieve the software."
"Got it," said Craig Turner.
"No problem," said Laura.
Chuck said, "What? No, no, no...we can't do that." He looked both surprised and upset by the unfolding plan.
Craig Turner responded, "Sure we can, Agent Carmichael. We do it all the time. We got some software from Von Vogel just a few years ago. You and your team just watch and learn."
"No. I mean...look...you two are much better spies than I am, but I am willing to bet that I'm better at software than you are. You can't just steal the software if we want to stop Fulcrum from getting it. You'd have to get every single back up copy he made, wherever they are..and they could be anywhere online. This guy is a cvbersecurity guy for God's sake. He's going to keep his shit protected. And then we have to get whatever hard drive he was using to write it. Then, you'd have to kill him so that, even if you managed to steal every single copy he made ...pretty unlikely... you'd stop him from simply re-writing it from memory. Sure, that might be a pain in the ass for him, but he could do it, and faster the second time around. All I'm saying is stealing the software isn't a feasible plan. Not so long as the point is to stop someone else from getting it, anyway."
"So, what do you suggest, Chuck?" asked Graham.
"Why don't we talk to him? Talk to Von Vogel? Ask him about the new software. If it's effective and useful, we can buy it from him. You know, just pay him for his work. After all, we don't even know if he's done anything wrong or committed a crime. Hell, we don't even know what the software does. All we know is that it's described as a 'key'." Chuck made air-quotes with his fingers. "If he's just a smart guy who wrote some useful software, he should be paid. I'd sure as shit want to get paid if I invented something useful."
"Naw, you'd probably just give it away, kid," growled Casey with a smirk. Amy laughed softly.
Craig Turner shrugged and said, "Didn't work out too well the last time we talked to him. We managed to steal a copy of his software, but he still refused to come to work for Uncle Sam. It's why we're back again."
"Let me try. Nerd to nerd," said Chuck.
Sarah smiled and said, "Perfect. Chuck can be very persuasive."
Nodding, Casey growled, "Yeah, the kid's hot shit." Chuck looked at him with surprise. Casey looked back at him and said, "Can it, Moron."
Graham said, "Fine. Let's try that. Put Chuck on deck to deal with Von Vogel. But if Fulcrum is circling this software, I want to make sure we can get it first. They won't try to buy it. They'll just steal it, so, keep your eyes open. All they need is one copy. I want all six of you at the party tonight when contact is made with Von Vogel."
"Roger that, Sir," said Casey.
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The mansion was opulent, in an Italianate style with an ornate wrought iron fence separating it from the road. The grounds were a somewhat tacky affair with sculptures of tigers and other wild animals framing fountains in turn surrounded by the wide green lawn. The show biz guests cuing up at the entrance were dressed to the nines. The sheer quantity of diamonds on display would have whetted the appetite of many a jewel thief. The white teeth of the Hollywood types equaled the diamonds in brilliance. It was Chuck's considered opinion that the woman on his arm was, by far, the most beautiful woman there, even given the multitude of Hollywood actresses. He had to stifle a smile at the thought.
Casey was down the block in the van, listening to the feed from their transmitters. Amy was already inside passing hors d'oeuvres and looking harmless, if slightly ditzy (her favorite assumed persona).
Resplendent in their tuxedos and nice gowns, Chuck and Sarah, Craig and Laura Turner arrived at the door to the mansion. Craig Turner turned to them and said, "Let us take the lead. You can be my nephew. No, wait, she'll be my niece." His eyes flitted up and down Sarah. "Yeah, that's better. No offense, Chuck."
"Sure, none taken," said Chuck, with a small smile.
They got to the front of the line of guests entering the party and Craig said, "Evening, Sir. Craig and Laura Turner. My niece, Sarah and her husband, Charles." Sarah glanced at her left hand and saw the CIA issued engagement and wedding rings. To her surprise, she found the sight...comfortable.
The man at the door studied the list for a moment and said, "I'm sorry, Sir, you aren't on the list."
With total confidence, Laura said, "That's a mistake. Please, look again."
The man did so and looked back at them and said, "No mistake, Ma'am. No Turners on the list. Might it be under another name?"
"No, it would not," she said. "Let me speak to Otto, please."
"I can't do that, Ma'am," the man said.
Craig leaned forward, looking into the man's eyes, and said, a little more quietly, "Dude, here's the deal. I understand that you can't let us in without Otto or Roye's approval or you'll get in trouble. That's cool. Don't know why we aren't on the list, but I don't particularly care. So, you need to get Otto here or I'm going to make a big fucking scene that will cause a problem for the party. Otto will come to see what's going on and then you will let us in. So, what I need you to do is skip the step where I make a scene and go right to the end of the story. OK, dude? You will be doing everyone a real solid to handle it that way. Trust me." He spoke with such obvious sincerity that even Chuck and Sarah believed him.
Apparently, so did the man at the door. He spoke into his radio for a moment and said, "Mr. Von Vogel will be here in a minute or two. If you could please step to the side so I can deal with the other guests on the line."
They stepped aside and waited a few minutes until Von Vogel arrived. He was older than Chuck expected. Most software guys were closer to Chuck's age, but Von Vogel appeared to be in his late fifties or early sixties. He looked fit, with close cropped graying hair. He was wearing a black brocade jacket with a stand-up collar, vaguely Chinese in style. He saw Craig and Laura Turner and seemed to stop for a moment of surprised reflection. After a moment or two he stepped forward and said, "I don't remember inviting you." He spoke English with a pronounced German accent.
"Must be a mistake," said Laura, looking at him with a flat expression.
He looked back at her for a moment and said, with sudden forced joviality, "Of course. I was just joking. Welcome my friends. Come with me." He led them into the party.
"What are you doing here?" Chuck and Sarah heard Von Vogel ask the other two agents.
"Private conversation, my friend," said Laura, her usual dyspeptic attitude seemingly put aside for the moment. "I'd like you to meet our niece, Sarah Carmichael and her husband, Charles."
"Also agents?" Otto asked.
"Of course," said Craig.
Roye Cats joined them a moment later. He was at least twenty-five to thirty years younger than his husband, with a flowing mane of dyed blonde hair and a white silk shirt opened to mid chest. He gestured with a full champagne flute as if he were conducting an orchestra. "Otto," he said as he gave the older man a quick kiss, "You just have to come to the back. Brad and Angelina are about to start a story about that spy movie they were in and I know you will want to hear it."
"Actually, I have to talk to these..." began Otto.
"Oh, nonsense. Come on, it won't take too long," said Roye, pulling the other man along.
Otto looked back at the quartet of agents and said, apologetically, "I'll be back in a moment. Please enjoy the party."
"Thank you, Otto," said Laura. "I'm sure we will." Otto and Roye left for their rendezvous with the pretend spies.
Craig turned to Sarah and said, "Be right back. Keep your eyes open for any sign that Fulcrum is here. Chuck, join me at the bar."
Chuck and Craig made their way to the bar. Chuck ordered two glasses of champagne. Craig ordered two Manhattans without cherries and a club soda.
"Spot anything?" said Craig.
"Not yet, but I've been looking. Sarah and Casey have been pretty good at training me for..."
"Here you go, gentlemen," said the bartender. Chuck took the champagne and waited for Craig's drinks to arrive. When they did, Craig took one of the Manhattans and drank it in a single swallow, leaving the empty glass on the end of the bar with a tip for the bartender.
He looked at Chuck and said, "Here's where I get to drink my fill and not spend my own money on booze. Government salaries suck, Chuck."
They made their way back to the ladies, who were chatting with a pretty brunette who seemed to be about twenty years old. She was wearing a short backless dress that showed off her curves and her smooth back. "...and Mr. Weinberg said he could get me into his next film. I'm meeting him this week for another interview...oh, hi," she said as Chuck and Craig joined them. Chuck had been careful not to ogle the younger woman as he handed the glass of champagne to Sarah. Craig, Chuck noticed, had no such compunctions, earning him a frown from his wife.
"Hello. I'm Craig and this is Chuck. What's your name, my dear?"
"I'm Betty Sue. I was just explaining to Sarah and Laura that I'm going to be an actress. I've gotten my first interview with a movie producer and he wants to see me again." She was pretty much bubbling with her happiness.
"Oh, that's just wonderful. Good luck with that. I'm sure you'll do very well. From what I can see, you seem to have a lot of talent," said Craig, with a winning smile. Laura frowned again, or maybe she just continued frowning.
Betty Sue saw someone across the room and said, "Oh, my friend is back. See you guys. Nice talking with you." She smiled like an up-and-coming actress and slid away from them towards her friend, man or woman they didn't know or particularly care.
"We were never that young," growled Laura. "But she could be your granddaughter, ever think about that?"
"We were never that young. She was...what? Twenty? 1965. At twenty I was on guard duty at Camp Holloway and doing my best not to be noticed by Mr. Charles."
In their ears they heard Casey say, "Pleiku."
Craig chuckled a bit and said, "Yeah. Seems we have an ancient historian on the team. That kid at Holloway was a very different man than I am today, though. He believed in things."
Chuck said, "If I may ask, how did you two meet?"
"Interoffice romance," said Laura. "Old story. We were assigned to a mission. We worked well together. One thing led to another and the next you knew we were a couple. Eventually we got married. And we kept working. Got divorced. Got married again. Rinse and repeat. Stayed as a team. The guys in the headshed thought we were effective, it seems. We weren't the only married team, though. Far from it."
"Director Graham, for example," said Sarah.
"Yeah. He and Anna were a spectacular team for a few years, until she had her oldest..." said Craig.
"Kevin," said Sarah.
"Yes, Kevin," said Craig. He looked at her closely for a heartbeat longer than necessary, hiding it by fiddling with his empty cocktail glass, and then continued. "I knew Langston at the Farm. Same class. He was my fiercest competitor and best friend...it was a pretty competitive place...as you both know." Chuck and Sarah exchanged a quick look.
"The missus and I've been doing this for a while now. Got into it at the height of the Cold War. Protect the free world from the Red Menace, you know? That was back before we realized it's all a stupid game. Both sides are the same. And then the Cold War ended. We won. Yippee. Some bullshit to keep us busy in the 90's and now we are in the brave new world of the War on Terror. Just goes on and on and on."
Chuck noticed that Craig seemed perfectly sober, although the cocktails must have been hitting him by that point. Sarah, for her part, noticed that, as the conversation went on, the Turners were constantly watching the room and the other party-goers with sharp eyes. Their situational awareness was top notch.
"Don't be so cynical, dear," said Laura. "Don't forget these Fulcrum pricks wanting to push us away from what makes America American. Now that's a real menace to confront. To keep us in the game for a while."
"True, my love. Fuck them. Traitors. Every single one. They should all be handled without mercy." He seemed to pause and think for a moment. "But I'll leave that to younger spies like your team, Chuck, Sarah. We'll be long gone. This shit burns you out after a while, and we've..." He waived a finger back and forth between him and his wife. "...been doing this forever now. But it's ok, I guess. This is where we belong, until we can't do it anymore. Until we're just too fucking old and slow, and some SOB kills one of us." Craig shrugged. "It comes out the way it's written." The last was said with some bitterness.
"Calm down, dear. Please. You are scaring the youngsters," said Laura.
"You're right, of course. Sorry, guys. I get a little carried away about some of this stuff. I'm too old for this bullshit. Need a realistic exit strategy, is what I need," said Craig, giving his wife a tight smile. "One day I'll retire and write my memoirs and you can all learn what I really think. In the meantime..." Laura gave him another look, which Sarah thought it was a direction to Craig to shut the hell up.
Otto Von Vogel returned and said, "So sorry for the delay, my friends. I hope you are enjoying the party."
Laura said with a smile, "Very much so. Might you be able to spare us a minute or two, Otto?" She looked and sounded charming again, her frown missing at the moment.
"Of course, please come with me." He took them towards the back of the house, passing a collection of celebrities on the way. There was Daniel Craig, who appeared to be comparing exercise notes with Christian Bale. Roye Cats's parties attracted the most popular Hollywood A-listers. Whatever his success as a famous stage magician, he seemed to have made many friends.
They passed a bar and Craig asked to stop for a moment. Two Manhattans without cherries, only one of which left the bar with him. Laura stuck with the club soda. They arrived at a back room. "Just this way," Von Vogel said, opening a door to a private study of some kind and gesturing inside.
As Craig was about to step in, he turned to Chuck and Sarah and said, "Wait here. Don't let anyone interrupt us."
Chuck was obviously surprised. "What? But I thought I …"
"I got this, Chuck. I'll call you if I need you," said Craig, as he and Laura stepped inside and the door closed.
"What the hell?" asked Chuck.
"I don't know," said Sarah.
"Not the plan," said Casey, in their ears. "...wait...what the hell?"
"What is it, Case?" asked Chuck.
"They just disabled their transmitters. They are muted. SHIT...If they get in trouble in there, we won't even know it."
"Guys, I'm on my way to you, in case you need another pair of hands," said Amy.
"Good," said Sarah.
Amy arrived and began to pick up empty glasses and wipe down flat surfaces and generally putter around near Chuck and Sarah.
They waited tensely for almost fifteen minutes, when the door opened and the Turners came out and closed the door behind them. The two older agents smiled at the other members of the team and Craig said, somewhat louder than necessary, "Success. We wire the money in the morning and meet him backstage after tomorrow night's magic show for the delivery of the software."
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A/N3: Anachronism alert. Same sex marriage didn't become legal in California until a few months after this story is set.
A/N4: The man known as Craig Turner, at twenty years old, was at the US Army base of Camp Holloway in Pleiku, Vietnam in 1965 making him 63 years old in 2008 (just to save some of you the math). At the time, the Viet Cong were known on the radio by the phonetic designation of Victor Charlie, or Charlie, or, more formally, Mr. Charles. Fred Willard, the actor who portrayed Craig, was twelve years older than the character I have chosen to write. As I mentioned in the last chapter, Mr. Willard passed away recently. Sleep well, Mr. Willard.
A/N5: Doing better, now, my friends. Can't promise a chapter next week, but I'm starting to see the sunshine at this point. Thanks again to all of you who have checked in on me. Stay safe, everybody.