A/N1: Hopefully Ted Roark doesn't own Chuck. Although he'd like to, I expect.
A/N2: Happy birthday to Ms. Yvonne Strahovski. My Sarah is two years older, but they share the same birthday. (Wow. Bit of hubris for me to refer to her as "my Sarah," huh?)
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Sarah was sitting with Rachel in the commissary at Castle Studios, having breakfast. Famous male and female actors wandered around with trays of food and coffee, but Sarah and Rachel paid them no attention.
"I don't know why you keep doing the same thing," said Sarah, shaking her head. "You've never liked the bagels here."
"I know. I'm just waiting for someone in back to start importing them from a real bagel place. Hope springs eternal," griped Rachel, taking a sip of her coffee. "Anyway, what's up, girlfriend? Breakfast for you is normally with Chuck and your other spy friends. What did I do to get on your dance card for this morning?"
"This," said Sarah, sliding a piece of paper across to her. "And with it comes about a dozen Non-disclosure Agreements with prison time penalties for a breach."
Rachel looked at the paper in her hand, informing her that she had been granted a Top Secret security clearance. Her expression didn't change in the slightest. Rachel had developed the lawyer's skill of keeping her thoughts to herself and off her face. She kept looking at the paper long past the time it would take for her to actually read it. Finally, she looked up and said to her friend, "Things are changing here, huh, Sarah? More players and a bigger locally based spy team is my guess. You now need a lawyer for the spies as well as for CI. At least one part time. No other reason to get me the clearance. You could reach out to a stranger, but you won't be as comfortable." She said, her demeanor serious and leaning into the sudden drastic change in her life with all of her sharp intelligence, "Wasn't exactly how I thought today would go, but what the hell. Let's do it. How can I help you and your team?"
Sarah grinned. The serious expression left her face as Rachel grinned back.
"Welcome aboard, Rach. Here's the deal..." Sarah spent most of their breakfast explaining about the war against Fulcrum and the status of the investigation into the identity of the Sachem and the source of the funding.
Rachel said, "OK. First off. Jesus, this is terrifying. Under attack by the very people we rely on to protect us. Shit. And of course, you and Chuck are the first line of defense. Just when I thought it was impossible for me to think you guys were any more fucking awesome." She shook her head. Sarah opened her mouth to say something humble, but Rachel waved her off. "Don't even bother. You and your man make awesome look pathetic. Straight up. Take it as a given, girlfriend. So, anyway, the immediate problem is to make sure that your computer whiz and the two accountants are authorized to do what they've already begun to do and don't break any laws in the process, or at least any US laws. Ok. Guess that's this morning's task," said Rachel. "Probably with some urgency, as they could find themselves stumbling into something problematic any second."
"Sounds right," said Sarah. "But I am going to set it up so you are the leader of the team. I know and trust you and you are smart as shit. You don't know that much about financial investigations, of course. You'll have to earn their respect..." Sarah shrugged, unconcerned. "...but I'm not too worried about that. We need to know what they can find and we need to be able to use it if this thing turns into a legal courtroom thing. I have no idea if it will, but if it does we have to be ready."
"I get to hang out in your bat cave under the Studio?"
"You know about that?" Rachel just gave her friend a look. "Right. Of course you know about that. Probably not. I mean maybe later, but for now it's not necessary. The Studio has given us some offices on another floor," said Sarah.
"Not working out of Carmichael Industries?"
"No. To the greatest extent we can, we want to keep the spy stuff separate from CI."
"Ok," said Rachel. Suddenly she looked mischievous and said, "Hey, do I get any spy gadgets? An exploding briefcase or something? Plastic glasses, a fake nose, and a mustache?"
"Hah. I'll see what Casey can drum up for you in the armory."
"Brian will be so impressed." She held up her hand and said, "Just kidding. I know I can't tell Brian."
"Nope," said Sarah with a smile and a shake of her head.
"Still, Sar," Rachel began to giggle. "As scary as this challenge we're facing is, this is gonna be so fucking cool."
The two old friends grinned at each other, happy to be able to share this part of their lives.
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Friday's mission watching Skye Kennedy meet with Vincent Smith was surprisingly anti-climactic. Kennedy booked a room at the Zacharia Dunes on Mandalay Beach in Oxnard. It was no surprise to any of them that it turned out to be easy for them to access the room and install their surveillance devices.
After a seemingly pleasant dinner at the hotel's restaurant, called the Ox and Ocean, Kennedy led Smith into the reserved hotel room and they proceeded to make love. Smith was observant while crossing the lobby, but Team B was almost invisible with the tech they had set up. Once the couple was inside the hotel room, Team B was keeping track of the proceedings, although only Sarah was tuned to the live feed from the room itself.
To Sarah's slight surprise, Smith seemed to be a gentle and generous lover. She understood that Kennedy might be acting her responses, and probably was, but Smith nevertheless went through the effort.
Team B was broken into units for the operation. Sarah was in command in a van off the hotel grounds, monitors in front of her. Chuck, Casey and Zondra were in the hotel proper in the room next to Smith's and waiting for their opportunity. Fitz and his guys were hidden around the hotel to protect Team B from Fulcrum and to try to spot any Fulcrum guys covering Smith. Surprising them all, for some reason, Smith seemed to be visiting Kennedy without any of his own personal protection. They assumed he must have been relying on his anonymity to offer him some degree of security.
Colt and his men were a bit farther afield and protecting everyone, including Sarah, from outside the hotel itself. Lately, their enthusiasm and engagement had impressed the rest of the team, but most especially Casey who had become a grudging supporter of Colt's team.
Finally, after a long night of sexual athletics, Smith and Kennedy fell asleep. None of team B thought it wise to try to infiltrate the hotel room with Smith merely sleeping. Casey in particular had emphasized that someone as 'switched on' as Smith would wake from something as simple as a change in the air patterns in the room from an opening door.
The sun had rolled into view in the east and was gradually sharing its light and heat with the land, the beach, and the ocean. Kennedy and Smith woke to the same sunlight and made love again. Sarah watched and listened. Chuck and the others shook themselves awake in the neighboring room. Finally, Smith and Kennedy finished in bed and moved to the shower of the bathroom.
"In the shower," said Sarah, with a sharp commanding tone. "Move now."
Chuck, Zondra and Casey used the dummied card key and entered Smith's hotel room. Casey and Zondra stood silent and unmoving with their weapons pointed at the open door to the bathroom. Deadly statutes. The sounds of reciprocal enjoyment reached them, but made not the slightest impression.
Chuck, meanwhile, was going through Smith's possessions and installing his software on every electronic thing he found. The changes he made would turn the phones into trackers and mobile bugging devices. He worked quickly, but without overt concern or fear. He had no doubt that the team would physically protect him from danger, but he knew that being caught in the act would destroy all that they had intended.
They had discussed it. Grabbing Smith and dragging him in for interrogation had been seriously considered and debated. He was a bad dangerous man and made the world a less nice place just by breathing. But, they decided that he could lead them to the bigger fish, the Sachem. The Sachem was not only the leader of Fulcrum, but was also the money behind the organization (at least as they had been led to understand). Relying on Smith to lead them to the Sachem was a high-risk, high-reward proposition. If they lost him, all the work they had done with Crawford's lead in St. Louis would be for naught. (The work on the money trail from the Cayman's bank was still ongoing.)
As things turned out, they were in and out of the room, leaving no trace, before Smith and Kennedy had left the shower.
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The next day, Frankie and Colt were sitting in the car following Smith. Frankie had a tablet computer open on his lap and was giving directions to Colt. They weren't the only team on Smith, all of them working from a long distance. The trackers that were installed on Smith's phones were leading them around the northern reaches of Los Angeles. They could hear his conversations, but Smith wasn't a loquacious man and they listened to a lot of traffic noise as he drove around the city.
"Did I tell you that I fell in love on this mission?" asked Frankie.
"Look, I know she's hot, but I think you've got to consider this clearly, man," said Colt.
"I've never been more certain in my life. She's it for me. That's just the way it is and you can't talk me out of it," Frankie said.
"Ok. I mean, I guess. You're a grown man. When are you going to tell her?" asked Colt.
"Oh shit. Dude, I've already told her I love her and I'm going to keep her."
"And what did she say when you said that?" asked Colt.
"Well, she mostly just snuffled into my side and licked my face."
There was silence for almost a moment before Colt said, "You were talking about the dog Maisie."
"Of course. Who did you think I was talking about?"
"I hate you," said Colt, shaking his head.
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"Rachel," said Jorge. "Can you look at this please?" They hadn't been working with Rachel for long, but Jorge was already happy to have her as a boss. She was smart and very perceptive. What was best, though, is that she knew when she didn't know something and had no hesitancy to ask for help or guidance. And she seemed to appreciate their views. Both from him and from the accountants.
As cute as she was, he had initially felt a tiny twinge of disappointment to see her engagement ring, but pushed that aside as the pressure of the real work took precedence.
Rachel took it from Jorge. "Ok. What is it?"
"It's a google translation of a trust document. Brett found that an account in the name of this trust funded part of the money which went, indirectly and through cut outs, into the Cayman's account. This is a Panamanian trust and the original is in Spanish. I used Google for the translation."
"Am I off base to make the assumption that a man named Jorge Ribas speaks Spanish?" she asked with a soft smile.
He smiled back. "No. Not off base. I just didn't want to take the time to translate it myself."
"Good. But does it look to you that Google did a good job?"
"Yeah. Although I don't know all the legal terms," he said.
"Right," she said as she began to flip pages on the translated trust agreement as she read it quickly. She stopped and pointed to something on the page. "This law firm in Panama City set up the trust. Can you get into their systems and find out who their client is?"
Jorge grinned at her. "Piece of cake." She smiled back at him. Damn, he loved this job.
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Smith said, "Afternoon, Sir."
The other voice, a man, said, "Yeah, whatever, Smith. Any news?"
"No, Sir," said Smith. "We have no leads to Orion and the Carmichael team is now under pretty heavy protection. Even more than before."
There was the sound of a long sigh on the recording. "You're going to tell me that you told me so, aren't you?"
"No, Sir. You're the Sachem. You're the boss. I wouldn't tell you that," said Smith.
"Yeah. I know. You're the good soldier. But you did tell me so. Told me that a direct attack on Carmichael and his people would not only result in a number of dead on our side, but would alert them to the change of our rules of engagement."
"Yes, Sir," said Smith.
"Well, Goddamnit, you were right. I knew they were smarter than the average bear, but I underestimated just how fucking deadly they were. We sent dozens of men up against them and they all got fucking slaughtered."
"Yes, Sir."
"This is just totally fucked up. Listen, Smith, I want to have a meeting with some of the guys. Give them a little pep talk. Tell them things were going in the right direction. What do you think?"
"I'll see if I can arrange a video link..." said Smith.
"No. Not video. I want to do it in person, so they can see me. Maybe just a bunch of the Life Guards or something, but some of them at least. Locally. Let the word get out that we are on task. Even with all the setbacks that Carmichael has dealt us lately. We are on track. We are making good progress on the Intersect. I don't want our people discouraged."
"Yes, Sir. I'll arrange it."
"Let's do it soon. How about the empty warehouse we have in Camarillo? Can we do it there?"
"No reason why not. Day after tomorrow?"
"I like the way you think, Smith. Of course, I've had to tell you what you think, which is probably why I like the way you think." The Sachem laughed at his own joke and disconnected the call.
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The entirety of Team B, Fitz's men, and Colt's men were all in mobile vans or in undercover government cars. Chuck was following Smith on the computer as the man's phones moved around the town of Camarillo, a smaller suburban town to the north of Los Angeles.
Chuck spoke to them all on an open channel. "Smith is pulling up to a warehouse on Dawson. Do you all have the location?" He had been forwarding the same to their connections.
The teams confirmed that they knew where Smith was. Chuck was in the back of a black van on the sunny day and only happy that it had AC. Zondra was driving. Both Casey and Sarah were next to him in front of monitors of their own.
Casey took over. "Fitz, take your men and deploy roughly along the west side of the building. See if you and get a sniper up high. Get ready to snatch the Sachem, but don't be seen. Colt, where are you?"
"We're coming up on the south of the building," he said.
"Right. I'll need you to run interference after Fitz's guys have him. Block and protect."
"You got it, Colonel."
Chuck fed the feeds from nearby traffic cams to them. Time passed.
Sarah said, "Look alive. We've got activity. A limo coming up to the warehouse. That looks like Smith meeting him."
They heard Smith say, "Afternoon, Sir."
The voice they now recognized as the Sachem said, "Right. Are they assembled? I have to get back to work."
"Yes, Sir. They are inside."
"Ok. Good. Little pep talk will improve morale for sure. You know what I always say. The beatings will continue until morale improves. Let's go," he said.
Team B could see him from the traffic cams on the street, but it was a fuzzy shot. He just looked like a medium build, white haired man from where they were.
"Hold," ordered Sarah. "Let's let him get the speech out of the way. We can pick him up on his way out."
"Right," said Fitz.
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Brett, Johnny and Jorge were standing in front of Rachel's desk. She had her butt perched against the edge of the desk waiting to see what they had to say.
"We've traced it back. Through a number of cut-out entities, the client of the Panamanian trust is Roark Instruments," said Johnny.
"Wow. Is this the last stop? Nothing behind this?"
"This is it. The money originated there, I agree with Johnny," said Brett.
"No mistake?" asked Rachel.
Jorge said, "Nope."
Rachel was momentarily speechless. Holy shit. Holy shit. To accuse a company of this prominence...holy shit.
She was certain her face reflected her astonishment. Roark. Ted Roark.
She said, almost breathlessly, "I've got to call Sarah and Chuck." She reached for her phone.
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They heard some shuffling as Smith and the Sachem moved through the building to get to his audience. Then they heard the Sachem's voice announce loudly, "Good afternoon, people. I'm Ted Roark and you're not."
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A/N3: "I'm Chevy Chase and you're not." During the 1970's Chevy Chase anchored Saturday Night Live's comedy news program Weekend Update with that famous line.
A/N4: Ted Roark is the Sachem. Holy crap. Who could have ever expected that? I know, I know. Anyone who saw the show. It gets hard to surprise you guys and still stay adjacent to canon. So, Fat Lady is done. Oh, and a little complaint about canon. In Fat Lady our heroes successfully obtained the list of Fulcrum agents and then..nothing. It's never mentioned again. Huh? Next arc is based on Dream Job. Team B versus Roark Industries. No gloves worn in this fight. If we were worried about Fulcrum coming after Team B, Roark should be worried about Team B on the offensive.
