A/N: Why do I always start with a mention of the ownership of Chuck? Why ask why?
A/N2: Welcome to the twenty-fifth arc of our story, which I'm calling the Harry Lime Arc. It is based, roughly of course, on Chuck Versus the Broken Heart (Season 2, Episode 18). But before we get to the spy stuff, as I sometimes do, I'm presenting a chapter or two of quotidian stuff. Just our friends having lives outside of the missions. Hope you can tolerate it.
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Hyatt Grand Central Hotel, Midtown, Manhattan - 8AM
Rachel Bernstein sat at her table in the dining room of the hotel, reading the New York Times and sipping her coffee. There had been another revelation from what she had come to think of as the "not-Mossad." It seems that Szell had been instrumental in the murder of a Russian proto-oligarch soon after the fall of the Soviet Union, allowing him to buy the man's interest in an oil company at a steep discount. Russian prosecutors had immediately issued a warrant for him and filed the papers to have Szell extradited to Russia. It was a pro-forma effort, as the list of countries that desired to prosecute Szell for his crimes was now at four – Hungary, France, Britain, and now Russia. But, as Hungary physically had him, they had dibs on any prosecution.
The revelations about Szell's crimes had been fairly steady over the last week and a half or so. Every day or two a new set of files had shown up in the offices of the media and the prosecutors, new facts on which to base more indictments and headlines. Timing the releases over a time ensured that Szell and his misdeeds would remain front page news for much longer than if all of the files had been released in a single huge drop. Although his high-priced lawyers were doing their best, it was like trying to hold back the sea. Although the street protests outside the jail had diminished, they had not disappeared. In addition, Szell's business empire was being ripped apart by his competitors like a whale's carcass surrounded by hungry sharks. Szell himself had been moved by the Hungarian authorities to a suicide watch protocol in the prison.
Rachel smiled to herself. Couldn't happen to a nicer guy.
Her thoughts were interrupted when John Neilson arrived at her table. She put away the paper and stood up to shake his hand.
"Good morning, Mr. Neilson. Thank you for taking the time to talk with me." They had first met at the engagement party in Los Angeles a couple of months earlier.
"Happy to. And please call me John. All my friends do." She smiled at that.
They sat down and a waiter arrived to take their breakfast order.
"Have you heard from Chuck and Sarah lately?" he asked.
"As a matter of fact, I have. It's why I asked to see you...thank you for this, by the way."
He nodded his head once in acknowledgement and murmured, "Of course."
She continued, "You are the lawyer for Carmichael Industries, so you might know this already. Sarah offered me the job of General Counsel to the company. I'm thrilled at the possibility, but scared too. Frankly, I could use some advice. Some career advice. I have a mentor at my own firm, but, for obvious reasons, I can't ask her.
"Sure. Let me guess. You want to know if you should take the job with CI. What it would mean for your career long term. To try to be in-house at this point."
"Yeah, I do. I've always had a career goal in mind, you know? Partner at a big firm. To me, that was the definition of success. And this offer is..."
"Threatening to derail the track you thought you were on?" he asked.
"Yes. Exactly," she said.
Their food arrived and they began to eat.
"Ok, Rachel...Is it ok if I call you Rachel?" She nodded. "I'm going to answer your question, but in a bit of a roundabout way. I got out of college and went straight to law school. Got out of law school and went straight to a big law firm. Stayed at big law firms for my whole career. Almost forty years now. And there's one thing I can tell you with absolute certainty. My life has been just about the same for the last twenty-five years. Sure, I'm more senior now and have more people answering to me, but the work is the same. Dealing with clients is the same. The transactions are pretty much the same. I'm not complaining. Not at all. I love my work and I'm very, very successful. What I'm saying is that if I had taken time off at any point...taken a couple of years between college and law school and tried my hand at minor league baseball, for example, or left the practice for a bit to play in a band...I really wanted to do that, by the way...anything like that...so that today, I'd have been practicing a few years less than I actually have been...my professional life would be completely unchanged, but I'd have had the memories of having done something fun and cool."
"So, you think I should take the job...the job with Sarah and Chuck?"
"Rachel, I can't say anything about your personal situation. You parents or family. Your boyfriend...what was his name...Brian?"
"Yeah. He agreed to follow me out there, if I go. He thinks his firm will allow him to be re-assigned to their LA office," she said,
"Great. I can't say anything about those aspects of the decision. But in terms of your career? I absolutely think you should take the job. One hundred percent," he said. "No doubt at all."
"Wow," she said.
"I promise you this, Rachel. I promise. If you take the job, there is no way in the world you will look back and regret the decision thirty years from now. Even if it doesn't work out for some reason. No way. You've got your life all planned out from A to B. Don't be afraid to take the occasional detour. You might like what you find along the way. Don't be in too much of a hurry. We only do this thing once, you know."
She grinned at him, "Thank you, John. Thank you. That's a huge help."
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Porsche dealership, Los Angeles, California
Sarah and Chuck stood with their arms around each other, hands tucked into each other's back pockets, looking at the Porsche 911 Targa in dark gray. They had just taken the car for a test drive, with Sarah laughing out loud as she put it through its paces. "Ok, what do you think?" she asked, with a smile.
"I think you like it. It made you laugh. So, I think we should get it."
With a smirk, she said, "Well, Carmichael Industries should get it. Should lease it, I mean. Business expense, after all," she said.
"Yeah," he said. "We'll have to make it up to Casey." Casey had expressed satisfaction with his beloved (if newish) Crown Vic, but agreed that his two partners should get their cars through the company. Chuck had chosen a black Cadillac CTS sedan and somehow survived the teasing he received from both his fiancée and his future brother-in-law for getting such a staid car. "Anyway, I like the retractable roof thing on this one."
"Ok. I'll get it. Once I pick it up, I'll get the CIA to give it an operational refit, just like yours."
"Sounds good," he said. "And I'll install the gadgets on it so no one can tamper with it." Chuck had invented a series of sensors for the cars connected to apps on their phones. It would tell them if the doors were opened, the windows down, the hood raised, etc. They would get notifications on their phones if anything like that happened. He'd already installed it on Casey's car and phone and it worked perfectly. He'd do the same to both his and Sarah's new cars. After what happened to Carina, they were no longer taking any chances.
"I'm excited," Sarah said. "Think my mom will like it?"
"She'll probably roll her eyes at you, honestly," Chuck said, chuckling.
"Yeah," responded Sarah. "Yours is much more practical."
"Not if we're being chased by someone," he said.
"True dat," she said, smiling and giving him a hip bump.
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O'Malley's Bar and Grill, Burbank
Jackie O'Malley was sitting in his small office and going through the books of the business. He was doing well. Very well, in fact. There was always something to complain about when running a restaurant, but he found it hard to think of what to complain about today. Without much conscious thought, he rapped his knuckles against his wooden desk.
There was a knock at the door. "Come on in," he said.
It was Kelly, one of the waitresses working the lunch shift. They were a good hour and a half before opening, but she had come in early to help set up. "Hey, Jackie, something weird is going on. Someone is calling for a reservation."
"A reservation? Did you tell them we don't take reservations? To just come on in."
"I did and they acted surprised. They're still on hold. I wanted to tell you because that's the third call this morning...same thing. I don't know what's going on, but the phone is going crazy with reservation requests."
"Humm. Yeah. Weird. Ok. What line?"
"Three," she said.
"Ok. Thanks." He picked up the phone and said, "Good morning."
A man's voice said, "Good morning. I was trying to make a reservation for dinner tonight."
"Yes, Sir," said Jackie. "We don't take reservations."
"Oh, ok. I understand. How long do you think the wait would be if my wife and I came by at 7 o'clock?"
"Um...Sir, I don't think there will be a wait at all...I'm a little confused, though. Where did you hear about us?"
"The article. The restaurant review." When Jackie didn't say anything, the man continued. "In this morning's Times? By Jonathan Silver. You mean you didn't know?" The man started to laugh. "Go get the paper, man. And brace yourself."
Jackie was staring at a point on his desk as if his world had turned upside down. "Thank you. I think I'll go get the paper now that you mention it. Seven o'clock, huh? Ok, Sir. Let me have your name, please." He wrote it down. "Thank you, Mr. Pappin. See you tonight."
Jackie walked out of his office and through the bar, telling Kelly he'd be right back. Three doors down was a convenience store with newspapers. He rifled through the Times while walking back. When he found the article, he stopped dead in his tracks as he read it. He couldn't believe what was on the printed page in front of him. He found the words blurring a little bit as his eyes filled with the evidence of his emotions.
Finishing the article he walked back into the bar. "Kell, where's Morgan?"
"He's still out shopping. He was going to the market to get some ingredients for a recipe he wanted to try as one of tonight's specials. Want me to get him on his cell?"
"No thanks. But when he gets back I need to see him immediately. Immediately, ok?"
"Sure, Jackie."
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West Los Angeles Doctors and Nurses Hospital
Sarah found her CATS teammates back on the roof of the hospital, enjoying the summer day. Carina was wearing the black baseball cap that Brittany Hughes had given her and was reading a book as Sarah came up.
"Hey, guys. What you reading, Red?"
Carina turned the title towards Sarah. A Woman of No Importance by Sonia Purnell. "Casey gave it to me. It's about Virginia Hall..."
"Oh, yeah. There's a building at the Farm named after her," said Sarah.
"Yeah. Top spy in World War II. The Gestapo chased her all over France. First with the British SOE then with our OSS. After the War she joined the CIA. Didn't retire until the mid 60's. Total freakin' badass and..." Carina gave an impudent grin "...she had one leg the whole time."
"Wow, Red," said Sarah. "Big shoe to fill."
All three women laughed at that, although Carina said, "Did you just make an amputee joke?"
"Guess so," said Sarah, trying to keep a straight face.
"So, I guess things are back to normal then."
"Guess so."
"Good," said Carina, grinning at her friends.
"Go back to your book. I have to talk to Z about CIA stuff," said Sarah.
"Sure," said Carina.
"What's up, Sarah?" asked Zondra.
"With Amy gone, there's an empty spot on the team for a woman. I'd ask you, but you're still here for a while. Graham tells me that the Intelligence Community is going crazy. Every woman spy is putting her name up. There's political infighting to get on the team. Favors are being called in. Promises made. He says he's never seen it like this before," said Sarah. "He called it a frenzy."
"Well, you guys are rapidly becoming legendary. To get be on the team promises to be the pinnacle of a career. I'm not at all surprised. So, good. You get the pick of the litter. Good for you guys," said Zondra.
"I know, but now we have to decide. We've narrowed it down to three women spies and I wanted to talk to you about them. See if you know any of them."
"Sure, shoot," said Zondra as Sarah took out a tablet notebook and turned it on, pulling up the files.
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O'Malley's Bar and Grill, Burbank
Morgan knocked on Jackie's door and was told to come in.
"Close the door, Morgan," said Jackie.
After he did so, Morgan said, "Am I in trouble, Jackie?"
Jackie looked startled for a moment and said to the little bearded man, "Nope. Not in trouble. I want you to read that piece in the paper. Sit down and take your time. Let me know when you're done."
Morgan sat in the guest chair in the office and picked up the paper. As he read, his face reflected the shock he felt. Holy shit. Holy shit. When he was done he looked up at Jackie, who looked like he might cry. Morgan's eyes were wide and his mouth a little agape. "Wow," was all he could say.
Jackie said, "I've read it ten times or more since I heard about it. 'The best bucatini carbonara I've had outside of Rome.' 'The dry rub on the steak rivals the best steak houses in all of southern California.' 'The owner, a gregarious man named Jackie O'Malley, is keeping this world class chef hidden and peddling a story that the bartender sometimes takes a turn in the kitchen.' World class chef, Morgan. World class. And this from Jonathan Silver. That man knows his food." By this point Jackie was actually crying. He stood up and embraced Morgan in a hug and said, "Hiring you was the best decision I ever made, son. The best."
Morgan tried to say, "Thanks, Jackie," but he found he couldn't speak with his face pressed against the middle of Jackie's chest.
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A/N3: I had a young lady ask my advice once about taking a job for a couple of years in Paris after graduation before returning to her hometown and starting her career. Based on John's advice to Rachel, I guess you know what I recommended that she do. (Somewhat emphatically, I must say.)
A/N4: The selection of cars is entirely the genius of my good friend, Kacper Tomczewski. He's a real "car guy" and proud of it. Thanks, dude. The sensors on the cars, invented by Chuck, are widely available today. But, in 2008, they would have been pretty damn cool.
A/N5: Pulitzer-prize winner Jonathan Gold was a renowned and celebrated restaurant critic for the Los Angeles Times. He shook up the food culture of Southern California by bringing attention to the cool little places in strip malls and whatnot in addition to the expensive white tablecloth restaurants. Discovering Morgan's bucatini carbonara would have been right up his alley. Sadly, Mr. Gold passed away in 2018.
A/N6: Virginia Hall has been mentioned in a few Chuck FF's lately. And with good reason. She is a legend and deserves the acclaim. As befits her profession, she was intensely private and close-mouthed, but nevertheless, there are a half dozen biographies out there. Carina is reading one that will not have been published until 2019, but it's the one I am reading myself, so I put it in the story. And yes, there is a building named for her at the Farm.
A/N7: The next chapter might be a lot like this one. I'm not in a tearing hurry to get on with the spy plot this time around. I've got some other stuff to set up for our friends. Let me know if you agree. Or you don't. Whatever, just let me hear from you guys.