Chuck vs The Wayward Legionnaire

Chapter 4: Escape. Part 2, Planes, boats, and automobiles….

Devil and the deep blue sea behind me
Vanish in the air you'll never find me
I will turn your face to alabaster
When you'll find your servant is your master…...

Police. Wrapped around your finger.

22nd March 2009 Industrial Unit. L.A. 2.00pm.

"… and now my friend, we say goodbye toChuck Bartowski…" Chuck followed Mike inside the unit. Mike checked his system to see how things were going. "Chuck, there's a shower upstairs, go clean yourself up and put on the clothes there, ok?"

Chuck agreed; he stunk. He did need a shower by that point. "Thanks Mike". He made his way to a small staircase and quickly ascended. He passed by a small office, there was a lot of equipment in there. Then he saw the restrooms. Entering he saw a suit on a hanger and some dress shoes. He threw off the tracksuit and stepped into the warm water. His mind stopped racing for a while, and he let the tension flow down the drain. He got out and dressed, the suit was a decent design but didn't fit right in places. He frowned but slipped on his shoes and returned to the office.

Mike was setting up a screen, he shot an approving glance and he quickly sat Chuck down, setting up a camera, he snapped a couple of standard headshots which popped up on a laptop screen. Once both he and Chuck approved of them, one, he forwarded on to Dieter, the other he was using for a passport.

Hamburg Germany.

In his apartment Dieter Handel was making a coffee when his system bleeped with a notification, by the time he reached his desk the screen showed Chuck's picture. He smiled. He cracked his fingers and sat down.

Using a Janus backdoor, he'd already established; he entered the CIA personnel files; he accessed the one they'd created for Chuck and added the picture. It was the final piece and needed a current picture, He then sent a copy of the file to Mike's location and erased his tracks. The Cyber-attack was still ongoing, so he had no worries. He used a text box to tell Mike the job was done.

Industrial Unit. L.A.

Back in LA the two men prepared a smart card for imprinting with the file's information. Mike looked impressed at Chuck as he helped set up the equipment, Chuck had skills, no doubting that. For his part Chuck was very excited with what Mike referred to as "the tools of the trade". Whenever he and Sarah or Casey had needed ID's, they were always dropped off by CIA courier. He'd never seen the process.

There was a buzz and a bleep from the card encoder and Mike grabbed the finished product from the out tray and they examined it, conducted a test or two and then attached a yellow lanyard. He flipped it to Chuck who put it around his neck. He mouthed his new name getting a feel for it, Charles Martin. They then made a passport, he watched in admiration, Mike was brilliant.

Mike then went to prepare himself for the final phase. In a few moments he had a standard agent's suit on complete with sunglasses. Chuck laughed, "Very Casey, Mike, very Casey!". Mike took a bow, "I'll take that as a compliment!"

He opened an envelope, "Chuck, do you have your passport and personal papers, your Diploma? I'm going to forward them on to Oisin, just in case you ever need to resurrect yourself." Chuck took it out of his satchel, it was a solemn moment. "Do you think I ever can, Mike?".

"It's who you are, I certainly hope so. Here give me that satchel too, no reason to lose it, besides I have one more becoming of CIA Analyst Charles Martin." He smiled and produced a slightly battered full leather version. "The wonders of a consumer society, somebody upgraded, it was a steal, second-hand!" They laughed; the mood lightened.

He stood, "Come on, you got a plane to catch." Chuck raised an eyebrow, "Don't tell me you hired a plane?" Mike scoffed, "You kidding? Oh no, the CIA are flying you out themselves!". He laughed again; Chuck didn't know what to think of that. Mike led him back to the warehouse garage, there was a big black government sedan.

"Get in the back Charles, if anyone asks, I'm Agent Smith, your appointed chauffeur!" Chuck opened the back door and got in.

Van Nuys Airport, Premier Executive Aviation Co. 2.15pm.

Owner of Premier and former CIA agent Jack Silverman looked at his manifest for the day for the third time since he'd arrived for his usual scheduled run to Rio and scowled. He hated changes of routine. Run an analyst to Cayenne airport, French Guiana? What the fuck was going on in Guiana? This didn't sound right; he rang down to his office manager Kate Jackson. "Kate you sure this is today's itinerary?"

He heard an exasperated sigh, "Boss, this goddamn blackout is killing me here, I can't get anyone at Spook Logistics to confirm, but that's what came in!", she replied.

"Alright", he growled, "I'll see if I get an answer myself!".

He'd been running his own show since he got out of the Agency, just after the previous CIA Director assumed power, he hadn't liked the direction Langston Graham had taken. There was more killing and tit for tat bullshit than the sneaking around he'd been used to under prior management. Every mission became a roll of the dice, and he didn't like Langston's preferred new agent model, the women were emotionless ice boxes and the men preening Bond wannabes. Things came to a head when he ended up wounded in Helsinki, having to steal a plane to escape.

He quit after that, he'd put in over twenty years and had a wife and kid. Luckily, his flying skills helped him further, he'd managed to 'save' a nest egg on missions, that and his retirement pay out enabled him to get Premier off the ground. He hired a Lear jet 45, found an old buddy who was a ex Airforce cargo flyer and never looked back. By the time 9/11 happened, the government was scrambling for anyone with clearance for "classified missions" and he was right there. He flew night and day, the money poured in.

Within 3 years he bought the Lear and had a friend in the DEA that helped him with some criminal asset auctions, those drug lords loved their toys and soon he had a couple of cut-price second-hand Gulfstream G2's to add to his fleet. His government connections meant any business loans were fully backed and swiftly granted. He worked out of Van Nuys, he locked down a few cushy foreign stations runs and was one of the main players for South America, need a package in Bogota? Agent in Rio? Rendition in Buenos Aires? Premier was your go to. Premier service, no questions asked.

He kept his staff small with family and friends, loyalty was big in Silverman's world, he'd had enough of betrayal in the field, all of which had him reaching for his Sat phone to call someone in the Special Activities Division logistics section to find out what the hell was going on.

The phone rang and a connection was made….

Above the Earth his signal was diverted to a flat in Birmingham, England, Paul Radcliffe, Warlock, smiled to himself and turned on a voice modulator and answered.

"Silverman secure". The voice that answered Jack was pure Texas, not Jackson's native brummie, "Carson secure, why howdy Captain Silverman! What can I do for the good folks there at Premier?"

Silverman shook his head, grinning. "For starters you can tell me what the change…"

"Oh, my stars and garters Captain, damned cyber-attack has everything screwed up around here! Yup, I was trying to call y'all earlier, lessee here, oh yeah, one of Langston's good ol' boys decided to break the communication curfew, damn fool then had his laptop get fried by some virus, there's a whole pastel of pencil heads sweating over that intel and Emerson's sending that boy Martin down to straighten the mess out. Top computer boy too. Kids never been anywhere before, so big adventure for him!"

Yep, that sounded like one of Graham's all right, looked like Emerson was due to kick some righteous ass. "Why Guiana though?" asked Jack.

There was a tut from the phone, "Why Captain, y'all know better than to ask that, Need to Know, and all you need to know is that that kid is to be at Cayenne today!".

Silverman groaned, "Ok what's the reference number for the job?" Back in Birmingham, Paul Radcliffe froze. What the fuck? he thought. He needed to buy some time, he could see Dieter had been monitoring the exchange too and his hands were frantically flying over his keyboard. "Reference number, reference number, hold a sec there partner, damn system is about as useful as teats on a bull today!" Dieter found an open log of CIA flights; no new numbers had been issued since the enforced lockdown. Schiesse! He thought, he copied the next one and forwarded it to Paul.

Paul phewed and reconnected with Jack, "Here you go! GHF-7735991-09." Jack wrote that down. "Any special annotation?" Paul and Dieter just looked at each other, Dieter shrugged. Fuck it thought Paul, "Reference Chuck Martin", the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Horrified he looked at an equally shocked Dieter. "Oh, you know him?" asked Jack. Taking a deep breath Paul answered, "Who doesn't? He's one of Emerson's top boys, now y'all take good care of him, y'hear? Or Emerson's gonna whoop your ass!"

"Ok Silverman out" Jack hung up.

A shaky Paul Radcliffe jumped on his own Sat phone to hurriedly tell Mike Travers what happened.

Van Nuys Airport Grounds. 2.50pm.

Mike grimaced and put the Sat phone down, he looked at Chuck, he'd had Paul on speaker. The guy looked a bit rattled. "Ok, not a good thing, but Chuck, these people have no way of verifying anything. The attack is still ongoing and we're going to keep any communication from Premier as long as we can."

Chuck listened to what Mike had to say, it made sense. Besides them referencing his 'real name' really wasn't going to change anything. He was going to be fine. "Let's press on Mike, I've got a plane to catch!" Travers heard the resolve in Chuck's voice, he started the car again and the Premier hanger soon came into view.

"There's the waiting area Chuck, you got everything?" Chuck took a quick look around the back of the car, Mike had also given him a small go-bag of spare clothes and toiletries. "Yeah, let's do this, thanks for everything Mike", he said earnestly. The two men shook hands. "You watch yourself, ok? Good luck!", said Travers. Chuck got out of the car and Mike drove off. He was alone.

He walked in to the cool of the waiting area and sat down. He didn't have long to wait, an older lady came into the area, "Charles Martin?", she asked. He nodded, "Yes ma'am". She smiled, good manners she thought, not bad on the eyes either! "Call me Kate, follow me and I'll sort out your paperwork." Inside the office she took his CIA badge and passport, she made a copy of them both and returned them to him. He signed the form thrust at him, she glanced at it, and smiled, satisfied.

She fired up her system and send his details down to Logistics to inform them he'd arrived and do an identity verification, at least she thought she did. Tapped in and watching for her transmission was Dieter and Paul, now determined to make up for their earlier cock up. They quickly diverted the check and guiding it through a prepared channel they returned a green light to her.

Kate never suspected a thing, any delay she put down to the cyber business dominating the news. She turned to Chuck, "You may board now, it's through that door there", she pointed, "you should see the open cabin door, someone will see you on, have a nice flight!". Chuck thanked her and followed her instructions.

Jack arrived in, he handed her the reference and annotation which she stapled to the file, he was very thorough with his paperwork thought Kate, she'd have this included in the month end. "Happy flying Boss!", she said warmly. "Thanks' Kate, that niece of mine make it in yet? We're wheels up in 15."

It was a running joke in the company, Kelly Silverman, the aforementioned niece, had been late once, a traffic accident held her up, her uncle had never let her forget it since.

He needn't have worried, the young woman in question had already boarded the plane and was now kneeling and frowning at the oven, lately it was prone to intermittent faults, where it either worked or didn't, she'd told her uncle, but they had been so busy that finding downtime to fix it had been hard, she bit her lip. She wondered if she should run to the Subway again and get some sandwiches, though truthfully, she wasn't looking forward to that option on a long flight, but the catering company guy was standing outside waiting on her decision.

Suddenly she heard "Excuse me, where may I sit, please?", it was a very pleasant voice she thought, she turned around and stood up, looking for the source, a nicely attired torso came into view and kept going as she straightened up.

Her eyes eventually registered a gorgeous smile and a friendly pair of brown eyes that seemed to twinkle at her as the tall man stood in the entryway to the cabin. Oh my, she thought. Gathering herself, she wiped her hand on a cloth and stuck it out to meet his outstretched one. His eyes never left hers, she was pleased to note. They shook. His hand was warm and comfortable.

At 5'10" and twenty-six years old she was a statuesque brunette with a full figure and kept herself in good shape at the local gym. But this man hadn't leered or stared at her body. She smiled appreciatively but had that nagging feeling she should check her make-up!

"Hi, I'm Charles Martin, this is my flight, I think... not…not that's it's my flight perse, I mean it's the flight I'm on…" he gushed. She giggled, oh, he was cute, not one of those arrogant agent types that usually hit on her the second they boarded. After in-flight service she'd jump in the cockpit to get away from them.

She'd been a Flight Attendant for UA before her uncle heard she'd joined a pilot's school, he took her up for a spin, asked her about her future plans and soon after he had a job offer for her. This was yet another run to test her abilities before he would solo her out with another plane.

"Hi! I'm Kelly, sorry to block your entry, oven problems," she indicated with a hand, "I hope you like Subway, all I can offer you apart from coffee!". And me! She caught herself, God! Now SHE was rambling.

Chuck's face took on an interested mien and he bent down beside the offending oven, "Mind if I take a look?" he asked. Before she could say anything, he had popped the oven out, and to her astonishment, had a small torch between his teeth and was peering intently at the interior of the space he taken the oven from.

Jack Silverman finished his walkaround testing the control surfaces of his plane, his headset crackled as he checked off his safety list with Bert Goodman his co-pilot. Satisfied, he signed the fuel invoice his mechanic handed to him and headed to the cabin door. There he stopped, surprised.

There was a man's torso sticking out of a cabinet space where his oven used to be, more to his surprise though was the fact his niece was bending over a counter area and at least two buttons on her uniform blouse were open and the upper curves of her breasts could be seen, her perfume filled the air as he entered!

Noticing him, Kelly realised where he was looking and with a reddening face, she did up one of the buttons, she smiled apologetically. Just then Chuck's head popped back out, he had been explaining something," …. So, you see when they stick these in…" he waved a power cable in the air, "… sometimes the installers bend a pin causing your intermittent fault, all you need do, is gently straighten it… and presto!" Chuck had done just that and as he reattached the oven, it gave an electronic chirp and the timer lit up! He looked up at Kelly, who leaned forward, but his eyes fastened on hers and they both smiled at each other. "Hot food!" he enthused. "Hot indeed …", she replied with lowered eyes. Chuck gulped. The catering guy laughed and loaded a trolley on.

Jack was watching all this too, he coughed, causing Chuck to jump to his feet. Yep, analyst all right, he thought, he took in Chuck's suit and appearance, it was a nice one he thought, but not what an agent would wear, his appearance was pleasant, and his hair was neat but not the polished package one of those Ken dolls usually sported. AND he wasn't leering or trying a chat up line on his favourite niece, despite her best efforts, Jack decided he liked this kid. "Chuck, I'm Jack, Bert's in the cockpit and I see you met Kelly."

He winked at her as he pushed past to the cockpit, she shrugged but mouthed Chuck? curiously. He nodded at her. Well, this was going to be an interesting flight he thought. He stowed his bag and watched as Kelly directed Martin to a seat and stowed his carry on, but Martin kept his satchel beside him, yep, nerd for sure. "Wheels up in 10 folks". He entered the cockpit.

Chuck folded his suit jacket beside him and rolled up his sleeves, he liked the suit, but he preferred his Buy More sleeveless. Kelly gave him a stunning smile and ran through the safety features. Before long the engines fired up and they taxied out to the main runaway.

Was he actually doing this? He looked out the window at the city he'd lived in for most of his life, it would be the last sight he'd have for a very long time. He hoped Ellie and Devon and Morgan would be fine, he prayed it. Kelly took her seat and the jet shot forward….

Outside Van Nuys Airport L.A. 3.30pm.

Travers watched as the Lear jet began a course correction in the sky above him and disappeared out of sight. He picked up a burner phone and dialled the office of Saul Goldman.

Goldman answered promptly, "Mr. Dawson! A progress report I presume?" There was joviality in the other man's voice that Mike couldn't help smiling at. "I presume the men are in the field, Saul?"

"Indeed, they are, and have been since your earlier call at lunchtime, they've all checked in and the first two should have already begun. I worried about the costumes, but I think my wardrobe lady worked wonders!".

"I hope you rewarded her well," said Mike," on completion there'll be another one hundred and twenty-five thousand deposited to your account."

Saul Goldman chuckled at that. "We do try to please, Mr. Dawson, any news on further projects of this nature?" Goldman shamelessly touted for more business.

"I'll get back to you on that one when I hear more myself, producers you know", there was laugh from the phone, "keep me informed and break a leg!". Mike hung up. He smiled; this next stage would hopefully keep the attention for Chuck here in L.A. He got back in his car and drove to a junkyard.

Getting out, he opened the trunk and took a carry all out and entered the office, ten minutes later he watched as the car was reduced to a small cube of crushed metal. Just like the others he had used. The junkyard owner looked at Mike, "you want to place a standing order?" Travers smiled and walked out of the yard, within a block he went into a local bar and entered the restrooms, in a cubicle he changed his appearance again. This time some work clothes, he exited the bar through the back, throwing his suit into a dumpster, he walked to a bus stop and waited, it took an hour and two buses before he got back to the industrial unit.

He started packing his stuff in to the RV, he swapped licence plates and using a power washer hosed the sides until the water-soluble white paint sluiced off to reveal a black finish. A few decals and the warehouse shutter rose again, he drove out, he didn't look back.

4Sight Software Inc. Carpark. Earlier….

John Casey sat in his Crown Vic, he was in hunting mode, it had been nearly two hours since Bartowski had pulled his Houdini stunt, but Casey believed time was firmly on the side of the hunters. Shaeffer had returned with twenty FBI field agents, the SAIC Wilson had been helpful, it wasn't every day another Federal Agency pulled the National Security Emergency card, so he was keen to find out what the ruckus was all about.

Wilson had been grinning like a loon right up until the moment Casey finally got Beckman on an old version of the ECS Emergency Communications System still intact in the L.A. City Management Office. After Beckman had finished tearing Casey, Wilson and just about anyone else in range of her tirade, a new one at Bartowski's disappearance, she mapped out a strategy to be followed to the letter. Two-man teams to hit every transportation hub in the L.A. area, she wanted every Law Enforcement unit in a 60-mile radius of L.A. on alert and any buses or trains that had already left the area, she'd wanted stop and search teams to check them all and four more strike teams were en route to Burbank.

Casey was to head back to the last known location and quarter back any searches from Castle once he'd done a more detailed analysis of the scene. He had. Bupkis.

He was musing on how he was going to cripple the moron while still allowing him to render useful information when his walkie suddenly burst into life.

"Eagle 3 to Eagle 1 copy!" He grabbed the radio, "Eagle 1, what's your status?"

"Eagle 1 possible sighting LAX International Terminal. "

Casey grinned, gotcha! "Eagle 3, Eagle 1 inbound, watch, do not engage, repeat, watch, do not engage, copy?"

"Eagle 3 roger, out!". Casey gunned the Vic, behind him Hawkins and FBI agent Essien pulled out after him. In a squeal of burning rubber, they departed.

Ten minutes later they arrived at the airport, Airport police had cleared a path to the employee carpark and as they ran to the terminal a set of doors were opened so they didn't have to use the public entrance. They slowed down to a brisk walk, people seeing the tall, official looking men approach stepped out of their way, quickly. They approached the main thoroughfare on the ground floor. The cop who'd walked them through stopped and pointed to a café, Shermer and another FBI agent sat there, their faces turned up to a spot on the mezzanine floor above.

Casey followed their gaze, there! There he was, moron had his back to the rail, he was pretending to read a magazine of some sort, it obscured his face from the front but there was no hiding that head of hair or the fact the idiot was still wearing his Buy More uniform.

"Status", he asked Shermer, as they gained entry to the café. "They saw him enter about 40 minutes ago, he was acting a bit suspicious, so they kept an eye on him, then we arrived. He's been to the john and got a coke from that vending machine to his front, other than that, he's been stationery." reported Shermer.

"He checked the board?" Casey was referring to the departure board showing flight information. "Nope, but see his back pocket there? Looks like a ticket." Casey pulled a rangefinder from his inside breast pocket and took a look, yep, looked like a ticket all right.

He turned to the Airport cop, "You pick anything up on your cameras?" The cop looked pained, "Damn things are on the fritz!" he huffed. "When did that start?" Casey asked. "Oh, about an hour ago." Replied the cop.

Well, that reinforced it, thought Casey, he's definitely getting help, but who? Didn't matter. That would be a question for later after he placed the mother of all smackdowns on one Chuck Bartowski.

He quickly formulated a plan, the cops would watch the elevators from the mezzanine to the ground floor, that left the two escalators at opposite ends, he and Shermer would handle the approach on the nearest one, the feds would take the farthest one in a pincer movement. They moved into position.

Casey crept up behind the kid, there was a trellis and dais of some kind of plants between the seats where Chuck sat and the railing, he slowly walked up using them as cover, Shermer stayed back at the railing, watching. Casey paused, something felt off, the kid was no agent but dammit, Walker and he had taught the kid better than this! He wasn't even checking his back.

Like a jungle cat out on the veldt, Casey coiled and leapt, "BARRTTOOWWSSKKIIIII!" He yelled for good measure; it had the desired effect. The kid leapt to his feet and turned just in time to catch all 220 pounds of John Casey across his chest! They stumbled to the ground; the kid started to scramble away on his back. Casey's hand shot forward and grabbed the kid's hair, which to his shock came off in his hand, he stared at it dumbfounded until a knee shot up between his legs and he went cross-eyed and rolled on his side.

The man that stood over him was NOT Chuck Bartowski, hell he wasn't anything like him, he yelled something back at Casey, but it was drowned out as Shermer, a former Line Backer in college arrived and hit the guy hard, folding him as the feds arrived and slapped on a pair of cuffs.

Casey got to his knees, who the hell was this guy? Just then his walkie crackled again… "Eagle 2 to Eagle 1, suspect sighted, Union Station…." Casey and the feds stared at one another, what the hell was going on?

By nine o' clock that evening he had twenty-five and counting 'Chuck a likes' as the feds had started calling them after the first five but no genuine Chuck Bartowski. They were locked up in the FBI building on Wilshire, Schaeffer had arranged transport to Castle, it would be a strain on the holding cells, but Casey didn't give a damn. So far nobody was talking, if anything the suspects were treating the situation with distain, interrogations were getting nowhere.

Beckman was incandescent when Casey informed her of the situation, Casey thought she might have ordered waterboarding, he had to remind her that they were civilians and that the feds had processed them. She calmed down long enough to tell him to "Sweat them, Major, sweat them all night if you have to, I want answers!" Casey was on board with that.

All the while though, one thought kept running through his head, where was Chuck Bartowski?

General Beckman's Office D.C. 09.30pm.

Diane Beckman had had a bad day, no actually, it was probably the worst day in her professional career. Bartowski had gone. Nobody could believe it, her analysts had thought he'd never have the fortitude to pull a move like this, but the nerd had fooled them all.

She'd turned her back to deal with this cyber-attack and he'd taken full advantage of the situation, Adams had nearly lost the plot when she found out. Beckman's good news of the attack dropping off hadn't mattered in the slightest.

She'd called Beckman and Emerson into her office and demanded to know what they were going to do about it. After nearly half an hour of ranting, Emerson had said they weren't going to get too much done sitting around Adams office talking about it and left. If looks could kill… Beckman stayed long enough to get Adams to promise to get the President to sign off on an Executive Order calling for all Agencies to be on the alert for/capture alive, if possible, one Charles Irving Bartowski AKA Chuck. Dead if no other option presented itself.

Emerson waited for her in his car outside Capitol Hill where the meeting had taken place. "Diane, what do you need me to do?" He asked. She liked Tom, he wasn't the snake Graham had been, she thought for a moment.

"We need to get Walker back. ASAP. If anyone can find the Asset she can." Emerson had looked thoughtful at that, "Do you think she's involved?" It was a reasonable question; he was privy to the same reports on the agent's interactions with her asset.

"We'll know soon enough if she runs too, Tom, where was she today?" The handlers for the Intersect mission were closely monitored despite their loyalty. "Athens, herself, and her DEA pal Miller arrived there last night, their time. She checked in with the local station as per protocol."

"Get her back Tom, I need her." Tom smiled; he 'd anticipated this, "she was on a plane to catch a CIA flight from Frankfurt this afternoon." Beckman stopped. "Does she know?"

"She knows it's a code red." Beckman grimaced. Situation with Asset. She'd better warn Casey she thought.

Something else struck her. She voiced it," Tom, if we can't find him, we need to get the ball rolling on the next available candidate…." Emerson groaned at that, "You mean….?" Beckman nodded her head, "Yes, get me Bryce Larkin!" They had arrived near her office, she thanked him and got out. Just like John Casey, the question running through her mind right then was, where is Chuck Bartowski?

Dublin Ireland. Oisin's Office.

The Irishman was laughing that hard he'd thought he might throw up; He ended up having to take a breath or two from his portable O2 tank, he'd just seen the forwarded footage of Casey at LAX, more followed shortly of NSA and FBI agents chasing a multitude of Chucks across L.A. It was like something out of the Keystone cops. The others that were teleconferencing with him were in a similar state. It was Meike who finally put the question to Oisin.

"Where did you get the idea to do that?", she gasped between laughs. Oisin managed to get himself under control, spinning his laptop around he showed her a print on his office wall, it was a Magritte one called Golconda. "That and the Pierce Brosnan movie, from a few years back?" She looked puzzled.

"The Thomas Crown Affair with Rene Russo? The museum scene at the end when he pretends to return the painting he'd already returned. Mr. Sinner man?" He hummed the tune. The memory finally clicked for her; she laughed even harder.

He also checked in with Paul Radcliffe who was monitoring Chuck's flight. "All ok Paul?", he asked. Paul gave a thumbs up, "He's just crossed over into South America. No contact other than air traffic control, looks like he's clear… fingers crossed". Oisin rapped his knuckles on his wooded desk too, touch wood he thought, touch wood.

Premier Lear jet, South America.

The man on everyone's mind pushed his plate away from him and settled back in his seat. It hadn't been easy, but eventually he managed to eat his first ever in-flight meal. He figured he'd need the energy.

Once they got off the ground they had slipped into a little routine, Kelly would pop up now and again and offer a coffee, about three hours after take-off she explained the menu options and he made his selection. He'd managed a pasta dish with a starter of a light salad. He was glad of his choices, they were light on his stomach, he still felt nervous. He had no idea of what a CIA analyst did on a flight that was about 9 hours long.

He taken out his laptop and pretended to be busy doing analyst stuff. Unconsciously his fingers had taken out the strip of passport pictures, he wasn't really aware of it until there was a clearing of a throat behind him, he turned to see a solemn looking Kelly Silverman.

"I was about to see if you wanted a refill, Chuck", her eyes strayed back to the pictures of Sarah and Chuck, my God they look so perfect together she thought.

"Your girlfriend?", she managed to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

Chuck reddened as he saw what he was holding, he folded the strip up and slipped it back inside his pocket. "I thought she was, maybe at one point….", he trailed off, Kelly wasn't one to be joyous at another person's misfortune but at that moment she felt a burst of happiness. "…she was…? The two of you look great together!"

Chuck sighed, he didn't really want to discuss this, but it was no matter now, "Yeah, but her job kept getting in the way, there wasn't any way forward for us so…" Kelly wasn't going to push further, she could see Chuck was upset, must have been recently she thought.

Chuck decided to change the subject, "How much longer Kelly, flight time I mean." She shook herself out of the pleasant daydream she just had at his answer. "Hmmm? Oh, about another 3 hours, why? In a hurry to leave us?" She raised a cheeky eyebrow. He grinned.

She went forward to check on her uncle and Bert, entering the cockpit her uncle was quick to pick up on her sour demeanour. "What's wrong?" He asked. Kelly looked past him to the clouds and then returned his look. "He's just finished a relationship, probably unavailable, damn it, she was a knockout too!".

Jack sympathised, his niece just couldn't seem to catch a good one, "well give him your number at least, he may give you a call when he gets back to the States, remember nothing ventured…". "…Is nothing gained…" his niece finished. "You know Uncle Jack, you're right, her loss." She got a determined look on her face. "Remember,", he reminded her, "you're doing the landing". Across the cockpit, Bert Goodman's face comically dropped, Kelly noticed and playfully slapped his shoulder. She left the cockpit.

Jack smiled, he liked the kid, he was respectful, mannerly, even Bert who was never one to chat, briefly talked with the kid on some such nonsense and thought he was ok. That was word of God in Jack's book. He looked at his instruments and took a reading, they were ahead of schedule, the tailwinds over Central America might have shaved a half hour off the flight time, he took a sip of his coffee, aside from the detour it was a good flight.

Finally, Chuck fell asleep, he got a couple of hours before he felt a tap on his shoulder, opening his eyes he found a smiling Kelly Silverman standing over him. "Landing in 30 minutes Chuck." He leaned forward and looked out his cabin window, he could only see jungle. Kelly sat down opposite him. "Chuck", he looked at her, "I know we've just met, but I'd like to give you my number", she said hopefully.

Chuck was torn, the likely hood of ever seeing her again ate at him. "Sure, I'd like that", he forced a smile on his face. She smiled and gave him a business card with her number on the back. "I know what you told me earlier about your ex, so leave it a while", she said brightly.

He tore off a piece of paper napkin that came with his coffee and wrote his Buy More email address on it. "Here you go Kelly, just in case". She beamed taking the note and placing inside her blouse with a saucy wink.

On impulse she leant in and gave him a kiss on his cheek. She moved away from him to the galley to tidy up, he touched his face, any other time he thought. Truly the Gods were unkind to the heart of Chuck Bartowski.

Cayenne. Rochambeau Airport. 4.08am. 23rd March 2009.

The small jet taxied to a stop near a refuelling station, Kelly had done a bang-up job with the landing and was currently working through a checklist with Bert. Jack had left the cockpit and passing by Chuck, popped the cabin door open and went in search of ground staff for refuelling, he didn't plan on making this extra stop last any longer than he could.

He didn't see anyone about the area, but if there was an agent there to pick up the kid he probably wouldn't. Unnoticed by him a small CCTV camera rotated on its axis and stopped on the Jet.

Inside, Chuck had waited for Jack to disappear before he quickly grabbed his carry on and walked into the small toilet, he changed into clothing that was more appropriate for his new surroundings, it was night outside, but he could feel the warmth and humidity. There was a pair of canvas trousers as well as a light shirt and some slip-on shoes, he hurriedly dressed, the suit he slipped into a suit bag along with the dress shoes, hanging it on the back door of the toilet, a thought struck him, and he attached a small note saying To Be Collected on it.

He stuck his head back out, Kelly and Bert were still in the cockpit, no sign of Jack either, he grabbed his satchel, and walked to the open door, he looked around, close by there was a small group of connected warehouses, suddenly he noticed the shutter door on one of them start to raise!

That's my cue he thought, and he quickly walked from the jet and bending low entered the warehouse, the door started dropping behind him. He paused, it was dark and there was little light coming in some clear plastic slits in the door. Just then his sat phone started ringing! He answered.

"Hola Piranha!" came the cheery voice of Mateo, "enjoy your flight?" Chuck grinned in the darkness, "Hola Fenix, yes, where are you?" He could still see no-one. "Argentina, but don't worry, this is the plan, I am hooked into the camera systems of the airport and its facilities. See the bench in front of you?" Chuck looked, he could, he could also see the internal security camera watching the shutter. He waved. It moved from side to side as if returning his gesture.

He looked again at the bench, noticing this Mateo said, "See the yellow tape on the drawer at the bottom? Open it, there's a carry all inside. Your new ID is inside, a reflective jacket just like the grounds staff and a hard hat and a GPS, ditch your carry on and all other ID in the red refuse bag inside and dump that in the red covered bin, push it down Piranha, right to the bottom."

Chuck did as he was told. Fenix watched over his video link, "Excellent, now see the emergency door on the far wall?" Chuck did, and as he watched he heard the magnetic lock disengage, he headed for it. Stepping through he found a disused warehouse, there was a large crate in front of him, he walked around it, as he did so he heard the door click shut again.

"There's a pallet jack by the rack there, put it under the crate and push that in front of the door, return the pallet jack and head for that window at the back of the warehouse office."

Chuck did, as he approached the window a light suddenly shone through it, he crouched down, "It's ok", came the from the phone, "routine security check, they'll be gone for the next hour now". Chuck was impressed, "You must have used here before."

"No, I set this up during the week, this is just for you man". Mateo replied. Once again Chuck was amazed by the abilities of his new friends. "Ok, I've cut the alarm to the window, go now and follow the path for about 50 metres, then there will be a turn off it to your left, that will lead to the perimeter fence, put the jacket and hard hat on when you get outside and then when you reach the junction of the paths switch on the GPS."

Chuck opened the window and dropped to the ground, he found himself on a marked path, he quickly donned the reflective jacket and hard hat, there was a pair of glasses in the bag too, so he put them on. He noticed other airport workers similarly dressed, he orientated himself and moved along the path.

He reached the turn and following Mateo's advice, he switched on the GPS, it guided him to the perimeter fence of the airport, as he approached it, he saw another gate, with a buzz and a click it opened for him. He stepped through on the sidewalk outside.

"Ok man, the GPS will guide you from here, there's a friend waiting for you in a clearing just off the track about 200 metres from here and about 300 metres in on a narrow path, don't worry. And Piranha? Welcome to South America!" The last was delivered with a laugh. "Thanks, Mateo, I hope to repay you for this one day", He said sincerely. Mateo spoke again, "De nada man, us good guys gotta stick together. Good luck!" He rung off.

Chuck looked at the GPS again, then at the Jungle canopy around him, various animal sounds and bird song filled the air around him, he looked back at the airport just as the Lear jet that brought him here shot up into the sky. He stared at it for a moment then he started down the sidewalk.

Premier Lear jet 20 minutes ago.

Kelly excused herself from Bert's company, he'd been giving her a critique of her landing, she enjoyed when Bert did this, he wasn't family like Jack who tended to be more emotive during training, Bert was always like her other instructor from her flying school, making sure she applied the lessons and honest feedback.

She entered the cabin and stopped short. Charles Martin was gone! She sat down hard, Jack appeared in the door, "Well, I thought this would happen." She looked at him forlornly. "He came down here to do a job Kelly, don't forget who we work for, who I worked for, disappearing acts like this come with the terrority."

Her eyes moistened, "I just thought he might have said goodbye". Jack sat down near her. He knew he couldn't tell her what he'd learned about Chuck's 'mission', but he could let her know the urgency. "It was an important job, Kelly, time sensitive. You exchanged details?" She nodded and smiled. "Well, that's something." He replied. A man appeared outside, he had finished the refuelling, he gave Jack an OK sign. The man stepped back and closed the cabin door. Jack tapped his niece on the shoulder, "Come on, you can get a take-off in as well". She took a final look out the window, "Safe travels Chuck", she joined her uncle and started the pre-flight checklist.

Cayenne. Airport perimeter.

The GPS was a good make, he had no problem following the small screen, he quickly found the small trail and started down it, inside the jungle proper, he felt slightly claustrophobic, every rustle pulled his eye off the screen, but he reached the clearing, he realised it ran parallel to the main airport exit road, it must be a maintenance access road he mused.

He was surprised when a tall, coloured man with a brilliant smile stepped into his path. He flashed a smile of his own and they walked towards each other. "'Allo Chuck! I am Denis Villeneuve, I'm an old friend of Sean's and here to take you on the next stage of your journey". He said in French accented English. Chuck shook his hand, "Chuck Bartowski, pleasure to meet you and thanks!" Denis looked around and motioned Chuck to follow, "come, we must hurry, I plan to make the tide and we have a way to go!"

Chuck was surprised to hear that, but then everything had been a surprise, he guessed with the safety of himself and his friends, they had taken no chances if they had failed, Beckman might have forced their details out of him eventually but not the means of escape. It was a sound tactical move. The benefits of Oisin's former military life he guessed.

Denis swiftly led him to a parked jeep just off the main road. They jumped in, "We've got a drive of about 16 kilometres to Pariacabo Harbour. Here is an ID and a passport courtesy of your friends, you are a French American engineer, you have been sent by my company Compagnie Maritime Nantaise to assist with a computer related software issue with the fuel pump for the engines of my ship, the Colibri." Chuck looked at the passport; he was now Jean Rameau. He smiled, "Jean…Rameau…" He tried it a few times, Denis helped him with the pronunciation, Denis laughed good naturedly at his efforts, "I know, but it's just to get you on my ship and into France."

"Your ship?" queried Chuck, "You're the Captain?" Denis nodded. "Oui, yes I mean, sorry Chuck, that's something we both need to remember, you don't speak French."

"I got oui", smiled Chuck, remembering a French spy from an Intersect mission, "your English is excellent Denis, did you learn that at school?"

"No, Mon Ami, I learned in the Legion", he replied. Chuck's eyes raised, "You were in the Legion?"

"Yes, before that I was a junior officer in the French merchant navy, but I got bored and joined the Legion, that's where I met Sean, I was his Sergent, I finished up three years ago and went back to the merchant navy, my former service helped me secure my position because I worked here when I was in the Legion. One of the regiments does the security here for the ESA".

Chuck had been watching the road as they drove, they had left the airport area and were on the Route Du L'est, Denis' words registered though, and he spun to face the other man. "ESA? As in European Space Agency, I thought that was in Kourou?"

Denis pointed out a road sign, they had just entered on to the N1 motorway, as Chuck looked, he could see the name of the place he had just mentioned and signs with ESA symbols pointing in the same direction.

"That's what I do, Chuck," Denis explained," I bring over satellite parts or rocket parts from France, there's a launch of some space telescopes in May, we just delivered the payloads. I'm currently reloading for the return trip to France."

Chuck felt the nerd in him rise, he'd never seen Cape Canaveral back home in the US, it had been a boyhood dream, now here he was on his way to the European version. He was grinning from ear to ear!

Denis smiled, seeing Chuck's face, "we'll be close enough to see plenty of detail, now, who are you? What are you doing here? Who sent you?" Chuck rattled back the replies, Denis asked again, only putting the questions in a different order. When he was satisfied Chuck could answer them without tripping over the answers, he stopped.

They approached a service station outside a small commune called Macouria, there Denis had Chuck dispose of any other IDs or paraphernalia like the airport jacket and hard hat. He walked around Chuck with a critical eye. He gave Chuck a company cap, G.A.C. (General America Corp), his documentation matched the service request for the diesel engines courtesy of the Ghosts. He was set.

They grabbed coffee and a couple of small croissants, Denis ran through the dock security procedures, "Just look like you belong here Chuck, like you've done this a million times before eh?" The younger man nodded. They got back in the jeep. There was silence as they made their way to the checkpoint, a man with a white Kepi stood beside a port authority policeman, they waved the jeep to a halt.

Denis and the Legionnaire greeted each other like they were old friends, a rapid-fire conversation started in French, Chuck understood none of it, the policeman made his way around to Chuck, "Vos papiers, s'il vous plait." Chuck understood that at least, he handed them over. The policeman opened the passport and examined the picture looking at Chuck intently, he asked a question that drew a blank stare from Chuck who started to get nervous.

Denis fired a stream of something across at the policeman who smiled and nodded, "Americaine… ", he switched to English, "American eh?" Chuck nodded, "Afraid so", the policeman nodded at that and repeated it to Denis and the watching Legionnaire, they both laughed, The Legionnaire said something again to Denis, who shrugged, he collected their documents, said goodbye and they drove towards the ship.

Trucks parked with ULDs (Unit Loading Device) shaped specifically for the hold were waiting on shunters to arrive to load them. Chuck took in the Colibri, it was smaller than he expected. He said it to Denis, "Only two vessels do spaceport duty Chuck, and they were purposefully engineered to fit the river Kourou and harbour." Chuck was impressed it was a smooth operation from his point of view. He could see Denis was proud too.

They boarded the ship, Chuck kept his head down as he went, he wasn't sure if surveillance was working, but he took no chances, he needn't have worried. Fenix and the others were still running interference for them. Denis took Chuck to a small one bed cabin, "The crew have been briefed there is an Engineer conducting some tests, so you will be an object of curiosity my friend. I'll give you the tour later, there's about an hour's loading left, I'll need to push that, we sail as soon as we're done." Chuck put his satchel and carry all on the bunk. "Do you need a hand with anything?"

That surprised Denis, he looked thoughtfully at the younger man, "No, but you get some sleep, Sean has asked me to prepare you over the next three and a half weeks, so get some rest, we start early." Chuck gulped, "Prepare me?", Denis smiled a Casey smile," Bien sur, of course, who do you think taught Sean?" He laughed again and left Chuck sitting with a shocked look on his face. Oh crap!

Castle, Burbank. L.A. 4.00am.

John Casey made another mug of coffee and walked back to the teleconference area of the base, several reports had come in and he started to check through them. Beckman had finally re-established appeared the Cyber-attack had run its last legs, she was still fuming about Bartowski's escape, but she listened as he reported any progress they had made. Precious little.

"What do you think Major? Do I need to send more teams?" The other strike teams had finally arrived. It enabled Casey to have a more comfortable say in how he ran the hunt. They still needed the Feds, he knew it was only a matter of time before Bartowski's sister got involved, the general had a team on standby to snatch her and her fiancé.

So far however, surveillance seemed to suggest they had no notice of Chuck's plans, Morgan had managed to contact her at work when Chuck hadn't returned any phone calls after 4Sight. The NSA monitoring systems had come back, it was easy then to see there had been no contact between the siblings. Right now, a team monitoring the Bartowski/Woodcomb apartment were watching as Ellie frantically texted and called Chuck's mobile, Morgan and Devon were also calling, Ellie finally started calling Walker's mobile too, when that failed Devon remembered a L.A. detective he'd treated.

Beckman listened to all this before telling Casey to deal with the cop before too many doors were opened. Finally, she told Casey the worst news he had been expecting. Walker had been informed and was en route to L.A. She signed off on that, leaving John Casey to figure out how the hell he was going to survive the arrival of the Ice Queen. He knew the skirt was loaded with lady feelings for the geek, but the load that concerned him more right now, was the contents of the clip in her Smith & Wesson Model 5906! The skirt is going to go mental, he thought.

He took another mouth of coffee, he wished he had some Walker of the whisky variety right about then, he was going to need it.

Mouth of the River Kourou. MN Colibri.

Chuck stood on the stern of the ship, Denis stood beside him, as they watched, the last of the shoreline lights disappeared from view, dawn was breaking. The ship eased into the shipping lane and Denis went to check on the bridge.

A couple of crew members waking up for their shift passed Chuck, they said hello and he repeated their greetings. He was tired. He headed back to his cabin. Denis had given him a heavy canvas bag with what looked like a uniform and boots. He didn't like the looks of that. He was also surprised to see an assortment of training clothes, running shoes. Denis had smiled. "We'll both get some rest for a few hours, I'll come get you and we can start."

Chuck eyeing the equipment said nothing. He figured all those times he ignored Awesome when he had asked him to join him for a workout was finally about to bite him on the ass. He looked out the ocean again before he entered the cabin, he had managed what he had thought impossible, he had escaped and was on his way to a new life. He thought of his family, he was going to miss them terribly, he also thought of Sarah Walker, he hadn't lied when he spoke with Kelly Silverman on the flight, his heart was heavy. He knew he was going to miss her most of all, but he'd tried everything to pierce her armour, Cole had shown him he was just not the type of man he thought she wanted. He stared at their pictures, he had to put her behind him to survive now. He lay down on the bunk and closed his eyes. Morpheus claimed him.

NEXT: The Ice Queen Returns…. uh oh….