NOTES: To vsm440, chainguns, and WadeDT, thanks for the good wishes, glad you're enjoying the story and I hope you continue to.
To Guest, who commented: "28 Chapters and still no backstory. You really have no idea how to construct a good story, do you?" Well, apparently you no idea how to read a story, because I've stated repeatedly that I intend to do a separate story that tells what happens back in 2012 and afterward, and I've explained why I have been doing it that way. There have been some flashbacks and references to the backstory in this one, and there will be more. But the details deserve their own story, which I have partly written.
Regarding this story...when I first started writing Chuck vs. The No-Win Question, I did not intend for it to be of this length. My initial intention was to do a relatively short 'intro' story, followed by a more involved story about what's happening to our characters in Moscow. However, the planned two stories ended up blurring kind of naturally into one longer one.
Because of the length of this one, I've toyed with the idea of reaching a natural break-point, then doing the prequel story, then coming back to finish this one. I might do it, I might not.
Dialogue and thoughts between / / indicates Russian language.
CHUCK vs. THE NO-WIN QUESTION chapter 29: Dark Dealings 2
The Hotel Gagarin-Tolstoi, Moscow, Russian Federation, June 4th 11:25 p.m. local time...
Jill breathed a sigh of relief as Tony and Walker left the suite. She was not sure she liked the idea of Tony alone with Walker, but having Walker out of the suite was all to the good.
Out of the suite is good, Jill mused to herself, but out of the building would be better. Out of Moscow would be better yet. Out of Russia would be nice. Hell, as long as I'm dreaming, why not off the planet entirely? Yeah, Walker could be the first human on Mars, that would be fine with me. Damn but that woman sets my teeth on edge, Jill mused, as she rose from the sofa, and walked quietly back to the bedroom. Does she work at it, or does being a bitch come naturally to Walker?
Jill entered the bedroom of the suite, removing her high heels as she did, and saw as she entered the darkened room that Chuck was still lying where they had left him, asleep on top of the bedcovers, looking more peaceful than Jill could remember in some time as he did.
Jill walked over to the bed, trying to stay quiet to avoid disturbing Chuck. Normally, that was difficult to do. Whether because of the Intersect, or because of years of practice, Chuck was fairly alert. A strange sound in his bedroom would usually be enough to wake him up, even if it was very faint, which was why she had removed her shoes. The click of a high heel on the floor was easily loud enough to wake him...most of the time. Tonight, though, Chuck remained asleep as Jill padded over to the bed in her stockinged feet.
Very cautiously, Jill sat down on the bed, folding one leg under the other, and reached out to brush his cheek. He stirred, just slightly, but remained asleep.
Twenty years, Jill thought to herself, partly in amazement and partly ruefully. It's been almost twenty years since we met. How can it possibly have been twenty years?!
As Jill sat on the bed in a hotel suite in Moscow, her mind went back across the years to far-off Stanford University, to another time, another place...to a life so alien to the one she now lived that it almost seemed like a dream.
..."Bryce, I can't wait," Jill said. She shifted her backpack, heavy with textbooks and other academic paraphernalia, and added, "I know you wanted to introduce me to this kid you met, but I have to be at my organic chem lab in another fifteen minutes!"
Bryce looked slightly frustrated. In spite of her impatience, Jill had to admit to herself that Bryce Larkin looked very cute when he was frustrated. Of course, she admitted to herself a moment later, Bryce looked very cute in any mood. He was just too good looking, and to make it worse, he knew it.
On the other hand, he had been a good friend since they had met shortly after the start of the semester. He had asked her out a couple of times after they had first met, but he had taken her refusal all right and they had struck up a friendship over their shared interests in science and history, role playing games, and computer gaming. She and Bryce were members of a Dungeons and Dragons Club that met on alternate weekends, and he had seemed impressed when he learned that she liked to play Everquest.
Well, I have to admit not many girls do, Jill thought to herself.
"I don't know what's keeping Chuck," Bryce said. "I guess maybe you'd better go to your lab, I'll see if I can find out what's keeping Chuck, maybe we can catch you after your lab session."
"OK," Jill said. "If you find the invisible boy, let me know."
Jill took her leave of her friend, and as she walked across the campus toward the site of the labs in which she was to practice her latest assignment, she found herself comparing Bryce to some of the guys she had gone to high school with. Though Jill had only just turned 19 a few weeks before, already her high school days seemed somewhat remote, so different was the experience of Stanford.
Jill had attended a high school with a total student body of under 1000, and though her experiences in the painful teenaged years had not been so bad as many, she had always felt somewhat out of place, too. She had envied her older brother and sister no little, both had seemed to navigate the perils of high school easily, while for Jill it came harder. Jill had one or two close friends in high school, especially Sharie, who had come to Stanford with her, but socializing had been hard for a girl who had a measured IQ of over 180 and who found many of the common teenage interests hopelessly dull.\
Jill had never exactly lacked for guys interested in asking her out, but at the same time, she had often found it hard to hold an interest in most of them. She knew that she was not bad looking, or at least she had been assure of that more than once...but she just felt more comfortable in sweat pants and a sweater than the tight revealing outfits the other girls seemed to sport so casually. Makeup was something she had rarely bothered with until her senior year, and it still seemed a little silly to her sometimes. She was more comfortable with a book in the back of the library than she was at a party or a gathering. Jill had never once bared her midriff in public during her high school years, other than at a beach, and had trouble imagining doing so, even when most of her female friends and acquaintances were following that fashion eagerly (or at least the gave a good impression of being eager).
College was different and the same at once. But where most of the boys in high school had been into either sports or cars, there was more variety as a freshman in a major university. There were guys like Bryce, who managed to be a smooth-talking ladies' man and to play a half-elven bard in their ongoing Forgotten Realms campaign, and seem equally natural at both and totally unembarrassed about either. He could even play most sports at least halfway well, when he bothered.
As she approached the chemistry building, Jill found herself wondering why exactly she enjoyed Bryce's company so much, but felt so little attraction to him romantically. She was not sure herself, but she suspected it had a lot do to with Bryce's very self-assurance and confidence, the thing that made him so appealing to so many other girls on the campus and off as well. With his family background of old money, natural good looks, and self-assurance...to Jill, it was almost too much. Of course, Bryce's reputation as a 'player' was a factor, too. Jill had seen some of the girls who competed for his attention, and she wasn't sure she felt up to dealing with that.
Perhaps because her attention was on her own thoughts, because she was lost inside her own head, Jill did not see the skateboard someone had left on the sidewalk, until she absently set a foot on it, and it began to roll. Feeling her footing go out from under her, she looked down to see what she had stepped on. Even as she did, she felt herself going forward..and then her head struck something hard.
"Oww!" Jill yelped, as she found herself sprawled awkwardly on the ground. Her backpack had come open, and textbooks, notebooks, pens and pencils, and her calculator were spread out all around her in a mess. Next to her was a young man with curly hair and brown eyes, looking just as surprised as she felt. The realization penetrated her mind that she and he had both been bent over and had managed to hit their heads together!
"I'm so sorry," the young man said, blushing. "I should have been paying attention, I wasn't looking where I was going!"
"It's all right," she assured him, blushing furiously herself. She started to gather up her things, and the boy helped her gather the mess together.
"Let me help you," the boy said, as he gently helped her to her feet and handed her her chemistry and calculus textbooks, and the notebook full of jottings from her Roman History lecture the day before. As he did, Jill noticed that he was tall, with light brown eyes and curly thick hair, and that he was definitely kind of cute. Her blush returned, for a slightly different reason.
"What's your name?" she asked.
"Chuck," the boy said, as he finished gathering up the last few spilled bits from her backpack. "Chuck Bartowski."...
Jill came back to the present, a soft smile on her face from her recollection of that day, over nineteen years before. She looked down at the sleeping man a few feet away from her, considering the changes in his face since that day. He looked older, of course, but not so much as all that, time had been kind to Chuck. There was gray at his temples now, and a few fine strands of gray elsewhere as well, but his hair remained as thick and curly as ever. There were more lines on his face now, but more smile lines than frown lines.
A sudden loud sound and a flash visible even around the edges of the closed drapes startled the biochemist/criminal out of her reverie. Her head went up and her hand went swiftly to the pocket containing her nine millimeter, but silence reigned after the initial surprising sound. So sudden and unexpected was the sound that it took a moment for Jill to realize that it was thunder, and the flash had been lightning.
Storm front's arriving, Jill mused, relaxing. Indeed, moments later, another brilliant flash was visible around the edges of the drapes, followed by a loud roll of thunder that lasted for several seconds.
"Wh-what's that?" Chuck asked, and Jill looked at her companion, who had been awakened by the sound of the breaking storm.
Jill said, gently, "Relax, Chuck, it's just the that storm they were predicting, sounds like it's just arriving."
"Oh, OK," Chuck said, closing his eyes again for a moment. Then his eyes opened again, and he asked, "Where's Sarah?"
Jill felt a frown form on her face when he mentioned that name, but she pushed the irritation aside and said, "She's with Tony, Chuck. Right down the hall from us."
Unfortunately, Jill added to herself sourly.
Chuck started to sit up, but Jill reached out and caught him by the shoulders and pushed him gently back.
"No need to do anything right now, sweetheart," Jill said softly. "Try and go back to sleep, you need the rest and there's nothing else to do right this minute anyway."
Chuck looked rebellious for a moment, then leaned back, apparently concluding that she was right.
Periodic bursts of light and sound still echoed, and now the sound of thunder was joined by a new sound: the sound of pouring rain lashing the sides of the great Hotel and bouncing off the windowpanes. It was actually a soothing sound, and as Jill sat there, she saw sleep overtaking Chuck again. Soon his breathing smoothed out and became shallow, and he became quiet and still again, falling asleep to the sound of rain and thunder.
The sound of the rain actually made Jill feel sleepier herself. Part of her wanted nothing more than to stretch out beside Chuck and sleep herself. Those thoughts were in her head when she heard the buzzer announce a new arrival at the suite.
A secret location, Thursday, June 4th, 2020, 9:30 p.m. local time...
Langston Graham took a drink of his diminishing supply of ice water, and mentally gathered his arguments for the next round of debate. The meeting of the Conclave had gone on for over two hours, and it had already been contentious, and tempers had run high more than once.
As he had expected, the other heads of their branches of the vast underground network had not been pleased to hear about the emerging threat to their plans, nor especially about the involvement of Carmichael Industries!
Over the previous decade, if there had been one specific organization that had caused the network more trouble than any other, it had been Carmichael Industries. Whenever a well-laid plan had been disrupted, a long-sought goal frustrated, a deep secret exposed to the light, it had quite often involved Carmichael Industries, and usually the Carmichael family themselves. Now the Carmichaels appeared to be closed to one of the deepest, most high-priority secrets of the vast network, and none of the leadership liked hearing that.
Of course, Graham thought to himself with a certain weary amusement, if they hated knowing the Carmichaels are involved in this, they really hated my proposed solution. They just haven't been able to come up with anything any better, and they know it.
"Ladies, gentlemen, let me remind you that time is of the essence. The research complex at SD-35 has been penetrated, and samples of several of our key developments successfully extracted. We don't know for sure who did it, or how, but a breach like that, on top of the previous breach of the EREBUS weapon, means that we simply do not have the luxury of time.
"We were planning to go to full implementation in two to three years. I think it is self-evident that we no longer dare wait that long. Even if we manage to retrieve the EREBUS agent, and I have reason to believe that we should be able to do so, even if we manage to recapture what was stolen from SD-35, too many people have come too close to the core of the Plan. If we follow the original timeline, if we wait, it's a near certainty that it will be exposed to one or more of our major enemies in time to disrupt the Project entirely.
"We've been the victim of a certain amount of simple bad fortune," Graham went on. "That idiot Chinese rogue who is trying to sell the EREBUS weapon alerted the whole secret world to its existence. It was bad enough when the Chinese were the only ones who knew, but now every major intelligence organization in the world, as well as many corporate and private operations, know it exists, even if they don't know exactly what it is or how dangerous it is."
Pausing for a sip of water, Graham continued, "But luck went against us. Most of us have heard of the information broker who goes by the code name of 'Wild Card'. Probably many of us have worked with her, or against her, or both. But she is one of the private players seeking the EREBUS weapon, and I have recently learned that she has the necessary professional knowledge to properly evaluate the information associated with EREBUS. Which means that she can recognize what EREBUS is and what it can do."
Nervous looks were exchanged among the figures in the shadows.
"As it happens," Graham went on, "Wild Card is an associate of Charles Carmichael. A very close associate, in fact. Which means we have to assume that Wild Card has shared the information about EREBUS with Carmichael Industries. Which means we have to assume that our operational plan is in immediate danger of compromise."
"I propose," Graham said, "to turn the connection between Wild Card and Charles Carmichael to our advantage. We, that is, FULCRUM, have a mole operative very close to Carmichael Industries."
Graham noted that this produced a reaction in several of the shadow-cloaked figures. Trying to 'penetrate' Carmichael Industries had been a goal of a number of the organizations in the network, but the Bartowski Brats had proven to be adept at detecting such persons and blocking them, turning them, or simply sometimes disappearing them. Even the agent Graham referred to was not actually part of Carmichael Industries, but she was close to it, close enough to make Graham's proposal possibly practical.
"Why was this kept from the Conclave?" one of the shadowed figures, speaking with a German accent, demanded.
Graham grimaced, thinking to himself, Maybe because we all keep secrets from each other? Maybe because of 'need to know'? Maybe because we can't entirely trust each other?
"It was best to keep this particular asset in reserve for an extreme need," Graham said, keeping his voice polite and level. "In my opinion that need has arisen."
The arguments that followed were contentious, but Graham had little doubt that the Conclave would approve the plan, if only because there were few better options available. Indeed, in his own mind Graham was already planning out the details of Operation Pluto, the abduction of the Bartowski and Woodcomb children.
Buy-More Site #1, Moscow, Russian Federation, Friday, June 5th, 12:10 a.m. local time...
The temperature had been rising in Moscow ever since the sun had set, warm spring air was rushing in, making the night humid and moist. By the time Ellie Woodcomb emerged from the air-conditioned comfort of the Buy-More, it was hot enough that she felt herself beginning to sweat even during the short walk to the rental car that the CI personnel had procured for her. As she walked out to the car, Ellie saw flashes of light on the horizon, the harbinger of an approaching line of thunderstorms. This sort of weather was not as common in that part of Russia as it was in much of the USA, but it did happen, and it was currently happening.
As she reached the car, she saw that a familiar woman was sitting behind the driver's wheel.
"Hi, Mom," Ellie said, after they exchanged the signs that indicated it was safe to speak. "I take it you heard about Chuck?"
"Word spreads fast, Honey," Mary Bartowski said, as she put the car into gear and merged them into the traffic flow. Even just past midnight, there were a substantial number of cars moving about in a city the size of Moscow. "But how bad is Chuck really?"
"I don't know yet," Ellie replied, as they made their way across the city. In the distance, Ellie made out the famous domes of the Kremlin, lit by streetlights and the approaching flashes of lightning. "He received a knockout blow yesterday-well, no, I guess not it would be the day before yesterday, it's past midnight-, and I'm pretty sure he has a concussion at least. I sent him back to the hotel to rest, but I want to double-check on him."
"To make sure he's still OK," Mary asked, then added with a knowing smirk, "or to make sure he's resting?"
"Both," Ellie said with a sigh and a suppressed yawn. She was exhausted herself, she had had less than four hours sleep in the last 36 hours, and it was telling on her. "I wouldn't put it past him to be trying to work in spite of everything."
As the immense multi-towered complex that was the Hotel Gagarin-Tolstoi came into view, Ellie sat up, and took another look at herself in her compact mirror to make sure her 'cover' appearance was still in place, and it was. She shuddered at her mirror image, she absolutely hated that ridiculous silver-blonde hair. In her opinion it made her look both trashy and washed out, but at lease it did a fairly good job of making her not look like Elaine Carmichael, or Ellie Woodcomb, either one. Which would do for time being, she supposed.
Ellie let her mother drop her off in front of the building, and she hastily went inside, because by now it had begun to rain, and a steady rumble of thunder was echoing through the city. Ellie managed to get to the overhanging cover of the main portico without becoming more than slightly damp, and she made it just in time, because just as she ducked under the overhanging portico, the light rain suddenly turned into a downpour!
Ellie went into the lobby while Mary sought out a parking place somewhere not too ridiculously far from the main Hotel. Inside, she identified herself as a visitor, using her 'Ulyana Kozlova' persona, and a few minutes later she was riding the elevator up to the floor on which Chuck had told her his suite was located.
When the elevator reached the appropriate floor, Ellie stepped to one side so that she would not be 'framed' in the opening doorway, a reflex that was second nature to her after years in the game. Stepping swiftly through, glancing both ways as Chuck and Casey had once taught her when she was new to the game, and heading down the hall in a single combined motion that she made look natural, Ellie headed for her destination, by a slightly indirect route.
That sort of evasion, too, came very naturally to her by this time.
At last, 'Ulyana Kozlova' stood in front of the appropriate door and pressed the button. A few moments later, the door opened a crack, and Ellie saw the familiar face of Jill Roberts, framed by scarlet hair, look at at her gesturing her inside.
As soon as the door shut, Ellie whispered a question to Jill, who nodded and said, "Yeah, we can speak. Chuck is in the bedroom."
"Is he asleep?" Ellie asked, as the two women headed for the bedroom.
"He was a few moments ago," Jill answered, "but not really deep. The thunder woke him up for a minute not long ago. Better take off your shoes in the bedroom, if you don't want to wake him."
Ellie nodded in understanding, and left her high heels by the door as she went in. Sure enough, her younger brother was lying atop a made bed, and appeared to be peacefully asleep.
"Where is Sarah?" Ellie asked softly.
Jill answered, with a note of annoyance in her voice, but equally softly, "She's with Tony-you do know Tony? I just realized that Chuck knows him but I don't know if you do."
Ellie suppressed a smile. "Yes, I've met Tony Rogers," she said. "You said he's with Sarah?"
"Yeah, apparently she knows him too, somehow or other. I never could get anything out of Chuck about how Tony knew any of you, though. But Tony offered to fill Walker in on what we've been doing."
A moment later, Jill had left to get Sarah, and Ellie softly padded over to the bed, and began to check him out, as best she could and as gently as she could. Her hand felt his forehand and his cheek, noting he was warmer to the touch than he should have been. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, trying to check his pulse without waking him-but his eyes opened and he smiled a little.
"Hi, Sis," Chuck said softly.
"Hi, yourself, Little Brother," Ellie replied with a smile. She sat down on the side of the bed, since she no longer had to worry about waking him, and determined that his pulse was also slightly too fast. The room was dimly lit: only a single dim night light and the occasional flash of lightning around the curtains broke the shadows. Even so, it looked to Ellie as if her brother's color was slightly off, though it was hard to be sure in the shadows.
"How do you feel, Chuck?" Ellie asked.
"Like crap," Chuck said. "I thought you were overreacting, back at the Buy-More," he admitted. "But I started feeling way worse almost as soon as we left, and I lost my balance and fell twice before we reached the car. Sarah and Jill had to help me get up to this room, I couldn't have walked it on my own."
"At least you're admitting it," Ellie replied, though what she was hearing left her more worried than ever. "No more of this tough guy stuff."
"If I didn't tell you," Chuck said, managing to laugh in spite of his obvious discomfort, "Sarah and Jill would have. So I might as well tell you myself."
Ellie started to give her brother a tart, if loving, reply, when the sound of the door to the suite opening caused them both to turn their heads toward the main room, and Ellie's hand drifted to her gun pocket. Moments later, though, a familiar blonde walked through the bedroom door, followed barely a moment later by a red-dyed brunette, and behind her came Jack Burton.
No, Ellie reminded herself, not Jack, 'Tony'. Remember, Ellie, he's 'Tony Rogers' right now!
"Hi, Tony," Chuck said from the bed. "How goes the con?"
"Can't tell you," Tony said, with his trademark lopsided grin. "Not until I clear it with Florence."
"'Florence'?" Jill asked, as Ellie felt herself blush slightly.
Chuck laughed again, sitting up slightly in the bed.
"It's his nickname for Ellie," Chuck explained. "He calls her 'Florence Nightingale'."
Ellie blushed again, and covered her blush by saying with pretended irritation, "Florence Nightingale was a nurse, I am a doctor, I'll have you know."
"So, Florence, can Tony tell me anything?" Chuck asked, and a few chuckles echoed.
"Very briefly," Ellie said. "Then I want you to try and go back to sleep. In the morning, we'll give you a proper examination, we've managed to lay hands on most of what I'll need."
Tony/Jack briefly brought Chuck up to date on his efforts to bait in the Chinese rogue agent, and Chuck nodded, but his eyes were looking heavier as he did. That suited Ellie fine, she wanted him to go back to sleep as quickly as they could manage, she had only allowed Tony to brief him because she knew he would otherwise fret over it.
A few minutes after that, Chuck was asleep again.
Somewhere in Moscow, Russian Federation, Friday, June 5th, 1:10 a.m. local time...
Tommy Delgado and two of his subordinates, along with an unconscious Lana Payton, rode an elevator to the top floor of the building, and when the doors opened, they emerged. Delgado led the way, while his men carried the drugged Payton, her arms tied behind her and her ankles bound. A short trip through hallways of the top floor led to a door. That door would normally have been locked, but some others of Delgado's FULCRUM men had already picked the simple lock.
The door opened onto a short stairway, and at the top of the stairway another door had been opened without permission from the owners of the building. This latter door opened onto the roof.
The pouring rain had ceased, for the moment, though lightning continued to flash from cloud to cloud, and Delgado was sure that the rain had only momentarily ceased. A brisk wind was blowing, but the air remained hot and heavy, the weather was not over.
Some more FULCRUM men were busily setting up some ropes and other gear near one edge of the building. Delgado conferred briefly with them, and their responses satisfied him that what they were building would be ready in time.
Delgado paced around the edge of the roof, looking down at the surrounding city from all sides, and nodded. It'll do, he mused. If we can't find the CATs, we'll make the CATs find us.
Turning to his lieutenant, he said, "Start checking how long it would take the news crews from the local TV stations to get here, and make sure we've got people in the nearby buildings ready to load video to the Web, too. I don't want there to be any chance the CATs won't see this when we start."
"Yes, sir," the man said, turning to carry out his orders.
Delgado turn back to look to the east, and glanced down at his watch. A few more hours and the sun would rise, and then it was showtime.
The Hotel Gagarin-Tolstoi, Moscow, Russian Federation, Friday, June 5th, 1:30 a.m. local time...
"The Hell you will!" Sarah snarled. "If you think I'm going to trust you to watch him you're even more deluded than I thought you were!"
"Damn it Walker, will you please for once drop the prima donna bit and think?" Jill snapped back. "You can't stay here all night without drawing attention, I can! You need to go find your kitty-CATs and your General Beckman and bring them up to date anyway, if they're going to be part of this, they need to be informed!"
"I can do that and still watch Chuck! And don't think I've forgotten that you're the reason Chuck in the state he's-"
"Will you get it through your thick blonde head-"
"Quieter, ladies, please, you're going to wake Chuck!" a soft but firm voice said, and Sarah and Jill simultaneously jumped in surprise, turning to see that Mary Bartowski had somehow appeared right beside them without either of them being the wiser until she spoke.
Ellie had mentioned that someone would need to stay with Chuck overnight, just in case, and Sarah and Jill had both immediately volunteered for the job, somewhat insistently, and moments later had fallen into a heated argument about it, and argument that had gone on for several minutes until they were suddenly interrupted by Mary.
"Since you two seem to be a little...loud...at the moment, and my son needs to rest, I think it would be best if I watch him tonight, don't you?"
Sarah started to protest, but before she could say a thing, Ellie put in, "Good idea, Mom. And I'll sleep on the sofa out here, so he should be fine."
Moments later, Mary had gone into the bedroom to settle herself in a recliner beside the bed, and Sarah found herself with Jill in the living room, while Elly made herself comfortable on the sofa.
After a silent, tense moment, Jill suddenly asked, "How does Mary do that?!"
"Do what?" Sarah asked, though she knew what Jill meant.
"Sneak up the way she does without making a sound! Hell, this room has a hard floor and she's wearing heels and I never heard anything! How does she do it?"
Sarah started to make a snarky comment about Jill's hearing, then sighed and said, "I don't know. I"ve been trying to figure that out since the day I first met her."
Later that night...
Chuck came awake, started by a particularly loud roll of thunder. He had been asleep and awake, off and on, for hours, partly because of the storm, partly because of how he felt, partly because whenever he did manage to fall asleep, uneasy dreams haunted him. The thunderclap that had awakened him was actually not unwelcome, he had been in the grip of a dream in which Ted Roark was mocking him about how hungry his daughters were, and how long it had been since they had eaten. Charlotte-Mary and Stephanie had been there too, skeletal and hungry.
Chuck looked around for a moment, and saw that his mother was sitting in the recliner, and for a moment he thought she was asleep, but then he heard her say, "Bad dreams, Chuck?"
"Yeah," Chuck said, lowering his head back onto the pillow. "A doozy."
"I know all about bad dreams," his mother said after a moment. "I used to have them a lot, when I was undercover with Volkoff."
"About...me and Ellie?"
Mary nodded in the shadows, and said, "Yeah, and your father, too."
"Did they get better?"
"Not entirely," Mary said. "Not until I was back with my children again."
Chuck started to say something, but sleep was creeping over him again, and he nodded off before he could put together a coherent sentence.
Not long before dawn that night...
Ellie Woodcomb reluctantly opened her eyes as her Intersect signaled to her that it was time to get up. She had had all too little sleep over the previous forty-eight hours, and even the sofa on which she slept had been blessedly comfortable. Still, she had to get up and get in motion if she was going to get Chuck back to the Buy-More as soon as was practical.
After her mother had settled that ridiculous argument between Sarah and Jill earlier that night, Jill had retired to her own suite next door, and Sarah had rather reluctantly gone to contact Beckman and the CATs. They were all supposed to meet again at the Buy-More in a few hours.
As Ellie rose, she saw that there was a faint hint of rosy color in the eastern sky, visible through one of windows of the suite.
The CAT safehouse/hideout, one hour later...
"Walker, wake up!" Zondra's imperious voice demanded, forcing Sarah to reluctantly open her eyes. She had been asleep for no more than two hours at the most, and she was definitely not ready for morning yet!
"Stop yelling!" Sarah demanded, as she sat up on her cot in the echoing empty level that was their field hideout. "I'm awake! What's so urgent!"
"This is," Carina said, pointing at the television set they had procured from somewhere while Sarah had been with Chuck and Ellie. The TV was on and there was some kind of news coverage going on.
/"...two people have been shot, and an unknown individual is dangling from the rooftop..."/ the voice of the excited-sounding newscaster was saying.
"What's happening?" Sarah asked, blinking sleep out of her eyes and struggling desperately to focus.
"Somebody started taking potshots from the top of that bank building, about thirty minutes ago," Carina said grimly. "Nobody knows who or why yet, but they fired into the morning crowd below and hit several people. And they've got a hostage dangling over the side of the building, too!"
Sarah looked at the screen more closely, and sure enough, there was a human figure hanging over the edge of the twenty-story structure, apparently held by a rope above a two hundred and fifty foot plunge the street below. Then, suddenly, Sarah knew why her fellow CATs, as well as Beckman and her equally grim-looking lover/personal agent Roan Montgomery, all looked so grim-faced.
The camera had zoomed in on the dangling figure, and Sarah instantly recognized Lana Payton.
"Bloody Hell," Sarah breathed.
TO BE CONTINUED...