A/N: Think any of the folks who do own Chuck read what we are all up to here? I doubt it, but it's sort of fun to think about.
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Chuck, Sarah and Casey were dressed in jeans and wearing jackets to protect against the nighttime temperature in the 40's when they parked the Crown Vic across from a bar called Frank's Garage. An "r" in the sign was not working so they headed to Frank's Ga age. It was on the outskirts of town, right up to the desert. The wind was cold and blowing light dust across the dark pavement. This far from the city's lights, stars were visible in the desert sky.
Although Sarah had indicated that their destination was not dangerous, not only had she and Casey come armed, but she hadn't objected when Casey made Chuck carry a trank pistol.
The building was freestanding with a small parking lot next to it. There were a couple of small neon signs in the dusty, fly-specked windows advertising Budweiser and Fat Tire beer. Someone had hung some Christmas lights in the window and they sagged against one of the neon signs.
Sarah opened the door to the bar and they were greeted by cigarette smoke, conversational hubbub, and quiet music. There were about thirty or forty people in the bar. A sad looking topless woman in a g-string was dancing by a pole on a stage in a desultory manner. No one was paying any attention to her. Maybe that's why she was sad. There were a half dozen slot machines off to the side of the bar without any players. As they entered, all discussion stopped immediately and everyone turned to look at them. The tension rose and seemed to thicken the air. Even the dancer stopped swaying her hips and just stared at them. Chuck wondered what the hell they were doing here, but he trusted Sarah. He assumed this was some old contact from a previous CIA mission, but that didn't quite make much sense with her warnings of secrecy.
A very large man in a black leather vest stepped up to them menacingly. Casey growled at the man, but Sarah ignored him. She was looking around the dimly lit room. Apparently spotting the person she was looking for, she stepped around Vest and walked confidently across the room. Chuck and Casey followed, Casey glaring at Vest who glared back with equal ferocity.
Sarah arrived at a table towards the back of the room. Seated at the table with a cup of coffee was a fat man in his mid to late 50's. He had a burning cigar gripped between two fingers and was looking at some papers on the table. They were greeted by the smell of a strong cologne. He had a bad combover trying and failing to cover his bald scalp, glasses so thick that they magnified his eyes, and an open necked Hawaiian shirt. He looked up without interest as they approached. The lack of interest was feigned, as he was doubtless aware of the change in the atmosphere of the room.
Sarah said quietly, "Hi, Sid."
Sid stared up at her with newfound curiosity. Then he began to frown a little as he studied her more closely. Sarah didn't move, just stood there meeting his gaze calmly. His inspection of Sarah stretched. Suddenly his eyes opened wide in surprise, looking huge behind the thick lenses. He threw his arms open wide towards the ceiling and stood up so abruptly that he overturned the chair he'd been sitting on, which fell with a bang. He bellowed, joyfully, "NANCY." Chuck and Casey, standing behind Sarah, exchanged a quick look.
Sarah leaned forward and whispered something to him. Keeping his arms raised, he bellowed, "SARAH." He shuffled around the table and gave her a hug, being careful not to touch her with the lit cigar.
In an instant the mood in the bar eased. People turned back to each other and continued the conversations they had interrupted. The dancer began to sway her hips once again, although she didn't look any happier.
Sid put his hands on Sarah's shoulders and stood back, looking at her from head to toe and grinning. "Damn, girl. You grew up nice. Look at you. Hot damn."
Smiling at him, Sarah said, "Thanks, Sid. You haven't changed a bit."
"Well, that sucks. I'm still the same fat slob, I guess."
Sarah said, "I'd like you to meet my friends, Chuck and Casey." She gestured to show which was which. "Guys, this is Sid Gold."
"Hey, guys," he said, shaking hands. "Siddown," he said, gesturing to the other seats at his table. He put the papers away in a briefcase at his feet, righted his chair and sat himself.
Vest came over with a big smile, showing crooked teeth. Laying a friendly hand on Casey's shoulder he said, "Hey, guys. Didn't know you were friends of Sid. What can I get you? On the house, to make up for the unfriendly welcome you got on your way in the door."
They ordered three Fat Tire Amber Ales. When Vest walked away to get their beers, Sid said, by way of explanation, "They thought you were cops. Casey looks the part."
Casey grunted and nodded with a shrug, to indicate that he recognized the truth of the statement.
"Don't like cops?" Chuck asked.
"Not so much," said Sid. He turned Sarah. "How's you dad?"
"He's away," said Sarah smoothly. Sid nodded in understanding, although neither Chuck nor Casey understood.
'Her real dad?', wondered Chuck, knowing he couldn't ask, but a little stunned by the idea. She used the present tense, so he was alive and was apparently friends with Sid. Where was he away to? Sarah's dad? He realized that his feelings were a little bruised by her insistence on keeping secrets from him. They had professed their love for each other and were moving in together, but there were still huge parts of her life that she didn't feel she could share with him. He trusted her and was sure that she had good reasons, but he knew that deep down, he was a little hurt by the doors she had kept closed. The moment he had that realization, though, he mentally chastised himself. This was exactly what he had signed up for. She had made this aspect of her personality, her life, abundantly clear to him right up front. He'd be foolish to take umbrage at it now. To do so would be tremendously unfair to her. He resolved to act on his trust and not even ponder the questions that might develop from this meeting with Sid. She'd tell him when she was ready to. Or not.
Sarah gave Sid a look, which he understood meant that he ought to watch what he said. He nodded again.
"So, Sarah, what you been up to?"
"This and that. Back in town for a few days and thought I'd see an old friend," she said.
Vest returned with three bottles of beer and a fresh cup of coffee for Sid, taking the old one away. When he had left, Sid said, "So happy you looked me up, girl. Don't know if you need a job, but I've got a couple of things going on. Could use a hand. The money's decent...but you look like you're doing pretty well now on your own."
"Don't need the gig, but thanks anyway, Sid. My friends and I are doing a thing of our own and thought I might be able to impose on an old friend for a little local gossip."
"How much?" he asked.
"There's no money involved, Sid. It's not that kind of thing," she said.
"No money?" he said, with obvious surprise. Sid studied Sarah for a few moments. Behind the thick glasses his eyes were calm and intelligent and he was obviously thinking hard. Giving his cigar a long pull, he looked at Casey and Chuck with quiet consideration and back to Sarah, exhaling a plume of smoke to the side. He took a sip of his coffee, grimacing a little bit at the taste and said, "Decaf. I don't sleep as well as I used to." He looked at Sarah quietly for a little longer and finally said, "Gamekeeper now?"
"Kind of. It's complicated," she said.
"I'm in a little bit of a mind freeze here, to tell you the truth. Can't get over you being all grown up now. I'm not talking to a girl any more. You're a grown woman."
Sarah shrugged, "Time passes, Sid. Things change."
"What do you need to know?" asked Sid, after a further moment's internal deliberation.
"Tell me about Lon Kirk and the Magic," she said.
He leaned back and gave a long sigh, shaking his head, "No, no, no, girl. Do not look at him. Pick someone else in town to mess with. Do not show an interest in this guy. He's a really bad man, Sarah. A really bad man."
"Tell me. Please."
"Look, this town was started by mobsters. They were business men. You knew where you stood with them. You paid them and they did what you paid them to do. There was violence, but it was the typical broken leg stuff. The bodies in the desert, yeah, but only other mobsters. This guy is fucking cold blooded, but with a white hot temper, to mix my metaphors a little. He doesn't even use any of the normal tough guys. He uses military guys like him," Sid gestured towards Casey. "They come at you like it's Iraq or Afghanistan or something. Coordinated. Heavy weapons. Nuts to bring that shit here. He's so well connected in town though everybody turns a blind eye."
"Guys in his employ?" asked Casey.
"No. Contracted out," said Sid.
"Do you know what outfit they are hiring to do that stuff?" asked Casey.
"Yeah. Group called The Blackman Group, led by a psycho named Tony Blackman. Calls himself Colonel Blackman and only hires vets. No idea if the rank is legit. With two wars going on right now, there are a lot of vets with combat experience out in the job market. They are based out near Goodsprings, just south of here. Got a big desert compound. Shooting range, barracks for the unmarried guys, guns out their asses. Scary dudes. The story is some guy tried to rip off the Magic and these dudes beat the poor schmuck half to death before turning him in to the cops. There are other, darker, stories though. You know, the bodies in the desert kind of story. Not good guys."
Casey looked uncomfortable, like he wanted to say something about bad stuff done by vets, but he held his tongue.
"Got any bad habits? A drinker? Drugs? Anything like that?" asked Sarah.
"Nope. Nothing like that," said Sid.
"Is he losing money? In trouble with wiseguys? Overextended?" asked Sarah.
"No. The Magic makes tons of money for him. He's got bucks. Wall Street seems to like the guy. His shares are trading well. You know about the Macau thing?" Sarah nodded. "Got enough investors for it. He's a prick, but he's not running the casino into the ground, if that's what you're asking. These things make a ton of money. You'd have to be a total idiot to bankrupt a casino."
"Would he cut corners to make more money?"
Sid thought for a few moments and shook his head. "Probably not. Not worth it. He's making enough as it is. He'd cut corners out of anger or revenge or some other base emotion...but business, I doubt it. Unnecessary and just not his style."
"Other than the new development in Macau, any other overseas involvement? Russia? Europe? China outside of Macau? Licenses on the cruise ships? He sniffing around anything like that?"
"Not that I've heard."
"Ok. What about his love life? He's not married. Any girlfriend?" asked Sarah.
"No. Nobody steady. Again, at least not that I've heard, and I pretty much hear everything there is to hear," said Sid, after a moment's pause.
"I know, Sid. Some things don't change," she said with a smile. "He hire any of the local talent to get his rocks off?" asked Sarah.
Sid looked a little uncomfortable and seemed to squirm a bit before answering. "No. None of that. He has his girls flown in from either coast. Special order kind of thing."
"Seems expensive. Privacy issues? Doesn't want word getting out?" asked Sarah.
"No," Sid grimaced. He fiddled with his coffee cup and looked at her with an odd expression. He shrugged. "Well, like I said before, you're a woman now." He sighed. "No, Sarah, none of the local girls will go near him. No matter what he pays. It's not a money thing. He has a bad rep. He's into kinky shit. You know...the S&M stuff."
"That's not that uncommon. Lots of people play around with that stuff," said Sarah, with a shrug.
"Not like this," said Sid. "He apparently gets carried away. Really hurts the girls. Like hospital hurts. Happened to the local girls a couple of times and word spread. None of them will go anywhere near the son of a bitch. They don't give a shit what the money is. That's why he's got to get girls from far away, someplace where they don't know what they are in for."
"Jesus Christ," said Casey, grimacing with revulsion. "A bad man."
"I don't kid around, Casey. He's a really bad guy. You three should stay away from him."
"You know, Sid, I kind of think we shouldn't," growled Casey. He looked very scary when he thought about going after Kirk now that he knew more about him.
"Damn right," said Chuck quietly and seriously.
"Why is he so tough? What's he hiding?" asked Sarah.
"His big secret? Dunno. Small dick? His mom never liked him? He just gets off on it? I dunno. All I can tell you is he's got a bad rep in town. Guys like me stay the hell away. Ain't worth it. There's easier marks around. I've been around here a while and he's always had that rep. From the time he got here thirty, forty years ago. Rumors are he offed some guy back east before he ever made his way here. Crazy for a guy like him. So successful, you know? Hangs around with the President for shit's sake. You know he just raised a mil for Romney, another cold-blooded New England boy, if you ask me."
"We want an in, Sid. What do you think?"
"Well, looking like you look now you could use that angle, but I sure as shit hope you don't do that, honey. I really do." Chuck really hoped not too.
"Ok, another way, then. When's his next fundraiser? Someplace we can press the flesh and schmooze?" asked Sarah.
"I don't know. Those are probably invite only...not that I expect you'd have trouble with that part. You want to get close as a stranger, just roll into his casino as a big spender, though. That always gets his attention. Has a cocktail party for the whales on Wednesday and Saturday nights and attends whenever he's in town. Drop some coin at the tables. Get his attention. Get the invite. I don't know what your budget is, but maybe you can manage. Sometimes you gotta spend money to...oh, right, no money for you in this...well, you know..."
Sarah smiled at him, "Yeah, I do. One last question, Sid. Do you think he's transferred the old facial recognition files from the Paradise to the Magic?"
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A/N2: Had some Fat Tire beer last night and certainly recommend it.
A/N3: Sid was referring to an old English expression. "Old poachers make the best gamekeepers." He was asking Sarah if she was a cop now. As Chuck and Casey didn't know that Sarah (when her temporary name was Nancy) used to be a "poacher" they might not recognize the reference. On the other hand, they are pretty smart guys.
A/N4: Am I the only one who thought it was weird that a billionaire, in canon, would have polite guys setting up a missile launch for him? Who were those guys? And he wanted to fire the missile himself? Because he never liked Chen? He wanted to murder a boatload of people personally, because he never liked one of them? What kind of a billionaire was he anyway? Seemed to me that we needed to fill in quite a bit of background on Lon Kirk. Sid called Blackman a 'psycho,' but the description seems to fit canon Kirk pretty well too.