A/N1: Ownership of what? (Damn. I have a feeling I used that one already.)
A/N2: Welcome back, my friends, to the show that never ends (well, at least it seems that way to me sometimes). This is the thirty-first (31st) arc of New Day which I'm calling the Iblis Strain Arc. It's based on Chuck Versus the Ex (season 2, episode 6). It introduces Dr. Jill Roberts, a fan not-so-favorite. Needless to say, her reception by the various members Team B in this story will not follow canon.
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Chuck, Casey and Sarah were in Chuck's office in Carmichael Industries, Chuck behind his desk with his feet up and his hands clasped behind his head, Sarah perched with her butt on the edge of the desk, Casey leaning against the door jamb with his arms crossed.
"I don't know, guys. Is it too huge? Is my plan too huge?" Chuck asked them.
"They've been after Orion for well over a decade," said Sarah. "Malone'd probably authorize it."
"Well, he'd want to, anyway," said Casey. "But to have teams of hard operatives on an alert standby status all over the world...it's a lot, kid. That's thousands of guys and their gear and all of it. Just on the edge of their seat, waiting to be the jaws of your trap. It's a big deal."
"I know, Case. Believe me, I know. That's exactly what worries me," said Chuck with a frown. "If I can entice him to download and open the file, I'll get the spike with his location, but what's the timing? How long before he downloads the file and then how long before he opens it? What if he's only checking the Intersect program once a week? What if he downloads the file and then sits on it while he makes himself dinner or something? How long can I keep thousands of guys on high alert for a raid someplace that might not happen for weeks? And, regardless of the timing, will only apply to one team out of hundreds."
"I understand, sweetie," said Sarah. "Is there anything..."
The intercom on Chuck's desk buzzed and his assistant said, "Sorry to interrupt, Chuck. I have Bill Gates on line two. Shall I have him hold or tell him you will call him back?"
All three owners of Carmichael Industries looked back and forth at each other with a certain level of shock.
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Chuck pulled his car into the driveway of Emma and Molly's new house, parking behind Emma's car, an Audi that still carried her Pennsylvania plates. Chuck, Sarah, Ellie and Devon got out of the car. Ellie and Sarah carried gifts of wine for the host, while Chuck and Devon opened the trunk to take out some folding chairs.
The house was an older mission-style, with five bedrooms and six bathrooms and was less than ten minutes away from Chuck and Sarah's apartment. Although the house itself was over seventy years old, the kitchen had been beautifully renovated by the prior owners only three years earlier and had all top line modern equipment. With a bedroom for each occupant and one converted into an office for Emma, she thought two guest rooms were useful to have in reserve. While Emma and her daughter had moved in a few days before, not all of the furniture had been delivered yet.
As Chuck and Devon were awkwardly carrying the unwieldy chairs to the front door, Casey and Eileen pulled up in the Vic and got out to follow them in. Casey was carrying the evening's cake (chocolate with rainbow sprinkles, one of Molly's favorites).
Sarah opened the door and called, "Mom."
"Out back," came the shouted reply.
She moved through the house to the backyard area, almost entirely taken up by a large in-ground pool and deck. Her mom was setting the outside table on the deck with silverware and plates with Molly following her with a fistful of paper napkins.
When Molly saw Sarah she forgot the task at hand and said, with a bright smile, "Sis." She began to toddle over to her big sister to give her a hug.
Sarah scooped up Molly and said, "Hey, sister. You helping mom?" Molly buried her face in the side of Sarah's neck and squeezed her with her chubby little arms.
Pulling back, Molly showed Sarah the napkins and said, "Nakin."
"Yeah," said Sarah. "Napkins. Do you know what those are for?"
With giggles, Molly mushed the fistful of napkins into her smiling face and then looked at Sarah grinning.
Chuck and Devon followed the ladies to the outside of the house. Chuck said, "Hi, Emma. Where do you want the chairs?" She gave him a kiss on the cheek and directed the placement of the folding chairs.
As the outside was set up and the guests arrived, wine was opened, beer was brought out, and harder libations were poured for those who intended to indulge. A sippy cup of water was brought out for Molly. Emma had made some snacks to nosh on while they waited for dinner. The new grill was warmed and Casey was intending to take charge of the steaks when Emma gave the word.
Everyone was settled down, with their drinks of choice, enjoying the pleasant evening next to the pool. Sarah and Ellie were taking turns playing with Molly.
Looking at the pool, Chuck said to Emma, "You're going to have to get Molly drownproofed. The training, you know?"
Casey said, "It's a myth, Moron. There's no such thing. No question that Molly should take swimming lessons, but if anyone says she's drownproofed, they are drinking the Kool-aid."
"I thought it was a real thing," said Chuck.
"Naw. Most folks who drown, including kids, already know how to swim. But lessons are a good idea. Certainly make her safer, but it's not magic, like the name implies."
"John's right, Chuck. I looked into it before buying a house with a pool. I'm going to start her at the YMCA for classes in a couple of weeks," said Emma.
"She'll love that," said Chuck.
"Totally," agreed Emma.
"Hey, Emma, guess who your daughter and soon-to-be-son-in-law are having dinner with next week?" asked Casey.
"Ok, John. I'll bite. Who?" she asked.
"Bill and Melinda Gates. They are flying down from Washington State just to see these two," he said with a smirk, taking a sip of his beer and gesturing with his free hand at his partners.
Emma started to laugh. "Wow. I'm sure they will be mightily impressed with the meeting."
"Oh, yeah. No question. With what he built, the software he designed, Bill Gates is a really impressive guy," said Chuck.
Emma squeezed his arm and said, "No, Chuck. I meant they would be impressed by you and Sarah."
Everyone chuckled and Sarah said, "Oh, mom."
Sometime later, after dinner and after Molly had been put to bed, Sarah, Chuck and Ellie had a moment alone outside in the cooling evening air.
Ellie said, "You know Sarah and I had a conversation the other day about forgiveness?"
Chuck said, "Yeah. She told me. I know you'll come to the right conclusion for you, El. And you know I'll support you whatever way you choose to go about dad."
"I know you will. Well, I've thought about it. I'm going to try to forgive him. It might not be easy for me...in fact, it certainly won't be easy, but I'm going to try. So, if you wouldn't mind, the next time you are going to get together with him, let me know, please. I'll tag along and see what happens."
Chuck smiled a happy smile and said, "Of course, El. Of course. I'm proud of you."
"Emma's a terrific example for me and I'm going to try to live up to that," Ellie said. "Tall order."
"Oh, that's great," said Sarah. "I'm proud of you too, Ellie."
Ellie just smiled at her brother and Sarah with love.
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The National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases, commonly known as NIAID, is one of the branches of the National Institute of Health and is tasked with research to protect people from, among other things, viruses. Although they maintain a lab in Montana, the main facility is contained in their headquarters in Bethesda, Maryland.
The building is a plain glass and red-brick nine story structure surrounded by metal bollards to protect against truck bombs and similar instruments of mayhem. It's a big facility, containing two wings and hundreds of thousands of square feet.
The night guards, at 3:30 in the morning, had done their rounds for the hour and seen nothing, as was to be expected. The video monitors showed nothing untoward either. There were only a couple of junior scientists still in the labs, assigned by their supervisors with the thankless task of monitoring overnight experiments.
Later, when the investigators were able to piece together what had happened, it was determined that the first indication of trouble was the noise of muffled explosions in the basement of the building. Explosives had severed all the cable and telephone connections to and from the building at the point of entry into the facility. The overnight guards didn't seem alarmed and merely sent someone to the basement to see what the noise had been.
When the three trucks stopped in front of the building, though, the men in the lobby knew something was very wrong. They pressed the alarm buttons to alert the Maryland State Police to a problem at the facility, but only then discovered that the connections had been severed. Thirty-two men dressed and armed for heavy urban combat alighted from the trucks and raced to the entrances.
Unable to get anyone on the phone to send help, the men tried their cell phones, but a powerful jammer had been set up to thwart those efforts as well.
The locked front doors were opened by means of explosive charges. Subtlety wasn't high on the list of the attacker's operational priorities it seemed. The outgunned and outmanned guards held their ground and were mercilessly cut down by automatic fire from the assault rifles carried by the attackers.
Ignoring the elevators, the attackers made their way directly to the labs by the stairs, blowing open locked doors on their way with explosive charges and killing anyone they saw in front of them. Not once did they stop to consult a map or guide. They knew exactly where they were going and how to get there. They seemed to have explosives charges prepared for each locked door on the way.
In the lab, behind various containment protections, they moved immediately to the locked refrigerated storage unit for the various viruses the scientists were working on. Opening the locked unit required a special explosive charge, as they wisely wanted the door open without breaking any of the glass containers behind the door. The bang of the charge was more subdued than the others had been.
Selecting one of the stored viruses, the apparent leader of the men carefully tucked the vials into a special container, hoisted it over his shoulder and directed his men out of the building.
In all, fourteen men and women at the Bethesda facility had been killed, including the two young scientists who had the bad luck to get the overnight shifts that evening. The attackers suffered no casualties and escaped with the single virus they had been seeking. The Iblis Strain.
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The next morning, Team B's collegial breakfast in the Studio's commissary was interrupted by an urgent message from DNI Malone.
As they entered Castle, Chuck said, "Computer, lights." The lights to the facility switched on.
"That's cool as hell, Chuck. How'd you do that?" asked Bryce.
"There's some new voice recognition software out there. I thought I'd play around with it and try out some simple commands here. If it works with the lights, I've been thinking of hooking it up to other sorts of systems in Castle. Run those through the computers. A fun new gadget," he said.
"You're recreating the Starship Enterprise, dude. Just messing around in your spare time?" Bryce asked, obviously impressed.
"Spare time?" Chuck barked a short laugh. "Yeah, I guess so. As if I have spare time."
"Seriously, dude," said Bryce with a laugh, giving hi buddy a smack on the shoulder.
They stopped in front of the large monitor screens and Chuck pulled up Malone. The man looked harried.
"Morning, guys. Saddle up. We need you here asap. Overnight, somebody hit us in a bio lab and there's a bad virus missing."
"A virus?" said Bryce. "Oh, fuck."
"Exactly, Larkin. I couldn't have put it better myself," said Malone.
"What kind of a hit, Sir?" asked Sarah.
"Smash and grab. They left fourteen bodies in their wake," said Malone.
"Shit. Any idea who did it?" asked Casey.
"Not yet. You'll be working with the FBI to try to figure that out," said Malone. "The investigation is just starting. It's why we need you here right away."
"Yes, Sir. The Citation at Bob Hope?" asked Chuck.
"It is. Warming up now. This mission will be all hands on deck. It's a bad one," he said.
"On our way, Sir," said Chuck.
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The black cars met them at the airport in DC and drove them, with lights flashing and sirens blaring, to the underground garage at the FBI headquarters. They were hustled through the entrance procedures with the bellowed announcement "Carmichael Team," and into the elevators. Upstairs, the five of them were escorted through a few corridors to a large conference room crowded with people.
As the room was a SCIF, a Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility designed for the secure processing of classified information, there was a slight delay as the members of the team dropped their cell phones in a locker in the hallway outside the room.
Malone met them at the door to the conference room. "Chuck, glad you guys're here." He turned to his left and said, "You know Agent Statler of the FBI, I think."
"Of course. How are you, Jenny?" asked Chuck, shaking her hand.
"One crisis to the next, Chuck. Good to have you and your team aboard, though. This is going to be a bad one."
"Aren't they all?" he asked. "Hey, Tony," he said, shaking the younger agent's hand.
"Hey, Chuck. Good to see you again," said Mulia with a friendly smile.
Malone said, "Agent Statler will be in command of the investigation."
"Great," said Chuck, with a nod to Statler. "Happy to help however we can."
"Appreciate it, Chuck. You and your team were invaluable last time around," said Statler.
"As luck would have it," he responded with a shrug. He didn't notice Jenny Statler roll her eyes.
As the rest of his team were greeting the FBI agents, Chuck began to be led through the room and introduced to men and women from various governmental agencies, such as FEMA, the Countering Weapons of Mass Destruction Office of the Department of Homeland Security, the Maryland State Police, and a half dozen other agencies. Chuck tried to concentrate so as to remember the names and affiliations as he was ushered through the room at a breakneck pace. His team was half a step behind him and he hoped they'd remember any names he blanked on.
Finally, Malone came to the far end of the room and said, "And from NIAID here's Dr. Guy LaFleur. Dr. LaFleur, Charles Carmichael." LaFleur was a handsome trim man in a business suit.
"How do you do, Sir?" asked Chuck, extending his hand to shake.
"Good to meet you, Mr. Carmichael," he said. He didn't extend a hand, but thrust out his right elbow with a smile. "I work with bugs, you see. I don't shake hands. How about we just bump elbows? It's a virologist thing."
Chuck bumped the man's elbow with his own and said, "Of course. Handshakes spread germs."
"Exactly," said LaFleur. "Thank you for understanding. If I may introduce my assistant, Dr. Jill Roberts." A beautiful brunette with large oval glasses who had been in conversation with a uniformed police representative turned around to face the Carmichael team for the first time.
"Chuck?" asked a shocked Jill Roberts.
"Jill?" asked an equally shocked Chuck Bartowski.
"Jill?" gasped an equally shocked Sarah Walker.
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A/N3: Now that we have all had an involuntary education in virology for the last three years, the plot of Ex seems even more ridiculous than it did at the time (which is really saying something). I'm going to do my best to ground this arc in some better science and smarter bad guys. I trust you all to let me know how I do.