Happy Wednesday from London….and welcome to Chapter 24 – A Cornered Rat. I hope you enjoy it.
Last chapter, the pressure on Roark really ramped up as the financial hit from Vostock Oil and Gas, the leaked whistle blower letter, and of course Chuck Bartowski returning from the dead triggered a decision to take direct action. In addition to the danger Roark represents, the team also needs to find Panzer, who seemed to have run and dropped off the radar. And what about Volkoff? And who else might be stirring the pot?
The endgame is near, and Team Bartowski can feel it, but before anyone can breathe easy, there are still too many unknowns that need to be sorted.
Valkyrie's Invisible Shield has passed 10k views and over 630 reviews, so I want to thank everyone who has taken the time to read the story and all of you who have posted a review or sent me encouraging PM's. Thank you…I am humbled by your feedback! And as usual, I owe a debt of gratitude to klipdoctor and CliffM who continue to amaze me with their help as Beta and Pre-Reader respectively. Gentlemen, thank you!
Finally, and as usual, I don't own Chuck or profit in any way from writing this completely AU story.
Valkyrie and Her Invisible Shield
Chapter 24 – A Cornered Rat
Date: Sunday, 9 January, 2023
Time: 15:50 EST
Location: Washington D.C. - White House, Oval Office
"Casey." John Casey responded.
"John, it's Jack. Roark's assistant just called. He's requested a private meeting with me. I told him I'm tied up till 5:30 at the earliest."
"Sir, I don't like it. And you know that under exigent circumstances such as these, where a clear danger to your person exists, I can enforce your protection." Casey's voice was all business as he replied.
"I know that John. Look. I can stall him for a while, but I'd rather use his urgency to our advantage. Meet me in the library in the residence. I'll grab Chuck, and we can bat around a few ideas before I agree to meet him."
"On my way, Sir."
-O-
Casey went to the library in the Presidential residence portion of the White House, where he met Chuck and Jack Walker. The two men seemed involved in a serious conversation but abruptly stopped speaking with Casey's arrival.
"Sir, Bartowski," Casey greeted the two men as he sat. "If I may, I think Bartowski coming back from the dead, together with a story woven around the deep cover assignment, has triggered Roark. And given that we've leaked that he is being sequestered by the DoJ for the next few days to debrief, Roark may have no choice but to take direct action against you." Casey looked hard at Jack Walker without blinking. He wanted the message to be unambiguous. "Rats will almost always run and hide when confronted, but when cornered, they can become very dangerous animals, Sir."
Jack quietly nodded, then turned to Chuck. "What do you think, son?"
"Jack, I agree with Casey." Chuck quieted himself for a moment before resuming his thoughts. "He likely sees taking you out as his only option, and as soon as he takes over, he can squash the investigation. And, given that the evidence we have in hand is not legally admissible, he could theoretically get away with everything….theoretically. I mean, your cause of death would likely need to look close enough to a natural cause and, by the time the results come back, well…." Chuck suddenly stopped speaking. "Give me a minute, please." He reached for his phone and called his brother-in-law, Dr. Devon Woodcomb, the cardiothoracic surgeon. Devon picked up on the second ring.
"Devon? It's Chuck. Do you have a minute for me?"
"Chuckster! How's the shoulder coming along? Sarah giving you a workout?" Devon replied, obviously happy to hear from Chuck.
"It's all good, Devon. Listen, I'm here with President Walker and Special Agent John Casey, and I'll put you on speaker, so please be cool, okay?" Chuck counted a few seconds off in his head and, hearing no further comments continued. "Devon, you're on speaker. Can you hear me?
"I hear you fine, Chuck. Mr. President, Mr. Casey, good to speak with you again. How may I be of service?" Devon's tone quickly shifted from happy-go-lucky to more subdued and formal.
"Devon," Chuck began, "If I wanted to assassinate someone and make it look like a natural death, how would I go about it…I mean, like….you know…induce a heart attack or something like that?
The line was quiet for a moment, then Devon responded. "Depends on who you're trying to kill, how fast you wanted to kill them, etcetera. Let me be clear: modern pathology will be able to tell if death was natural or not and, if not, what caused it, but how you might do such a thing depends on many factors, including the specifics of your target. As an example, if your target is young enough, suffocation without bruising would probably look like someone just dying in their sleep. Which happens. If your target is male and in his 60's, a heart attack is the most common scenario, and…."
"That one." Chuck interrupted. "You've met President Walker. He's in his late fifties, has a stressful job, little time to exercise, etc. If you wanted to incite a heart attack, what would you do?" Chuck asked.
Devon responded with a dispassionate, matter-of-fact voice without missing a beat. "I would overdose him on Digitalis. That's my first thought. There are others, like atropine or succinylcholine, meds we use to paralyze patients for surgery. The paralytic effect would be long enough in duration that the lungs wouldn't be able to inflate, so death would necessarily follow. But, in an otherwise healthy patient, an overdose of Digitalis would raise the heart rate to the point of cardiac failure. Again, depending on the weight and health of the individual and the dosage, death could take as little as four or five minutes. It would present externally like a heart attack. The older agents, like curare, might be missed on autopsy, so that's possible too. But Dig would be my first choice."
"Okay, how would it be administered? I mean, what would be the most efficient way?"
"Most effective would be by injection, but the least visible would likely be by drinking it. Digitalis in liquid form is clear and almost flavorless. If you poured it into a glass of water, you could probably tell the water tasted funny, but if you poured it into a glass of scotch or a rum and Coke, it would be almost undetectable to the drinker. And you wouldn't need much to get the job done."
"Okay, thanks. Wait, one more question. How hard is it to get Digitalis in liquid form?" Chuck asked.
"All you need is a prescription. Most pharmacies only carry Digitalis in pill form because it's much easier for patients to manage, but it can also be prescribed in liquid form. Anything else I can help you with?"
Casey replied. "Dr. Woodcomb, thank you, but I think we have all we need. Please keep this conversation to yourself."
After sharing a round of goodbyes with Devon, the three men refocused on the meeting with Roark and how to mitigate the risk of the President falling at the hands of a murderer.
-O-
Date: Sunday, 9 January, 2023
Time: 17:20 EST
Location: Washington D.C. - White House, Oval Office
Chuck didn't like Casey's plan. They were working on a very thin assumption that Roark's only play was to somehow poison the President without his knowledge and that Digitalis in liquid form was the likely toxin to be used. If that was the case, Chuck wanted to burst in and arrest Roark on the spot if they caught him spiking the President's prized Bourbon. Casey had argued that allowing Roark to momentarily slip away was the better play because it gave them time to have the poison tested and verified. Using that information to secure the arrest warrant would be additional tangible and inescapable evidence that would be utilized to convict Roark, and President Walker agreed. President Walker made Chuck and Casey swear that they would not disclose even a hint of this plan to Emma Walker.
-O-
Jack Walker once again took a series of deep breaths as Ted Roark waited outside the Oval Office. He rolled his shoulders and shook out his hands, willing the stress out of his body. He knew he was being watched and recorded on a live video feed and that both Casey and Chuck were ready to rush into the Oval Office with weapons drawn if Roark made a wrong move, but it was still unnerving to pretend to be cordial with a man who was trying to kill you. He took another deep breath, exhaled, and punched the button on his phone to let Margie know he was ready.
Ted Roark entered the office, closing the door behind him. "Jack, thank you for seeing me on a Sunday evening."
Jack Walker recalled the instructions from Casey to avoid physical contact with Roark and always keep a piece of furniture between them. "Come on in, Ted. Have a seat." Jack pointed to one of the two chairs in front of his desk without standing or shaking the man's hand. The large desk and the position of the two chairs kept the men almost eight feet apart. "What did you want to discuss that we couldn't handle through a call?" Jack's tone was not friendly but not angry as he pushed a stack of papers to the side of his desk. He came across more as distracted.
"Well, Jack. I just learned that Special Agent Bartowski is alive and well and has been working on a deep-cover investigation of some sort, and since John Casey has been less than transparent with me about the investigation into Sarah's attempted abductions, I thought an in-person visit was more appropriate than a call." Roark smiled. "I'm sure Sarah is pleased her boyfriend is well, and I wanted to come by and extend my good wishes and to better understand what transpired."
"I see. Unfortunately, you probably know as much as I do. The entire thing came as a shock to Emma and me and completely floored Sarah, who's still in shock. As you know, the Secret Service has an investigative function, one Bartowski was assigned to when he was in London. You obviously know that he and Sarah were romantically involved, so he's now spending some time with her in the residence, trying to make up for causing her so much pain and suffering. She sat through his damned funeral, for God's sake. He is scheduled to meet with the Attorney General's office tomorrow to discuss his findings." Jack tented his fingers under his chin and looked upward. "So far, he hasn't said a word to me about what his investigation uncovered, so I guess we'll need to wait."
Roark studied Jack for a minute before speaking. "Well then. How about we celebrate the hero's return from the dead?" He stood and made his way to a small end table with a crystal decanter of President Walker's favorite small-batch Bourbon and a set of matching tumblers. As he walked, he masked reaching in his jacket pocket for the small vial by turning his body and looking back at Walker.
"Sounds good, Ted. Pour away." Jack responded.
Rourke now had the vial in his hand and, standing with his back to Jack, poured two glasses, then poured the contents of the vial into one of the glasses before slipping it back into his pocket. He picked up both glasses, and before sitting, he extended the tainted glass to Jack.
Roark swirled the golden brown liquid in his glass and smiled. "Here's to the safe return of Special Agent Bartowski!" He raised his glass and took a sip while watching Jack.
Jack raised his glass to Roark's toast and added, "Here-here!" as he brought the hand-cut crystal glass to his lips. Then, he abruptly stopped. "You know what, Ted, I'll enjoy this a little later. Right now, I need to go over the recommendations from appropriations on extending our lease for bases in Germany, and I need a very clear head to do that….unfortunately." Jack patted the pile of papers he had moved to the side of his desk when Roark entered, put on a slightly unhappy face as he put the glass down, and put a coaster on top of the glass. "I don't want any of the goodness to evaporate before I get a chance to enjoy it. I'll convey your regards to Bartowski and to Sarah. Is there anything else, Ted?"
"No, Jack. Not at all. Thanks for your time and for the Bourbon, which is exceptionally good. I hope you enjoy that glass in honor of Special Agent Bartowski soon." Roark stood and made his way out of the Oval Office, seemingly without a care. If Walker took the drink later, it would further insulate him from suspicion, and he doubted he would let that glass of very fine Bourbon go to waste. Now, he just needed to return to his residence and wait for the inevitable call.
-O-
In preparation for Roark's visit, a series of micro-cameras and microphones had been set up in the Oval Office to capture the meeting in living color and, as soon as Roark left, Casey and Chuck entered from the President's private office, which was adjacent to the Oval Office. Following them were two FBI agents wearing nitrile gloves and carrying a large plastic case that had the word "EVIDENCE" stenciled on all sides. The two were agents that Casey knew personally and trusted without reservation.
"We got it all, Sir. Now, we just need to ensure the chain of custody on the glass, and as soon as the analysis shows what he put in the glass, we can arrest him for attempted murder. Agent Stoll, please secure the evidence."
Agent Stoll moved toward the President's desk. "Mr. President, if I may?" He reached for the tainted Bourbon glass and started speaking out loud. "This is Agent Michelle Stoll." Stoll looked at his watch. "The time is 17:27 Eastern Standard Time, and I am standing in the Oval Office of the White House. I am taking the glass that was proffered to President Walker by Vice President Roark and pouring the contents into this sterile container for analysis," Stoll broke the seal on a plastic container, poured the liquid in it, sealed the container with a strip of red security tape that said EVIDENCE on it, and placed the container into an evidence bag upon which she wrote her details.
Once the task was completed, she turned to her colleague, "Agent Drucker, please secure the contents of the decanter, the decanter itself, and the two glasses." She then observed as Agent Drucker replicated the process Stoll had just a moment ago completed. Once all the evidence had been secured, Stoll again noted the time and, together with Drucker, walked out of the Oval Office carrying the evidence.
"Quite a show there, John." Walker smiled at Casey.
"Well, Sir, the cameras and microphones caught everything, and we kept the recording going so that no one could suggest we stopped recording and replaced the contents of the glass. That is why the work done by Agents Stoll and Drucker was so scripted."
"I get it, John. Nice work. What next?"
"The analysis shouldn't take long since we think we know what to look for and, once we have it, we will go to the Attorney General to secure the warrant. Meanwhile, as the DoJ investigators stumble upon some of Bartowski's breadcrumbs, we will expand the list of crimes he's charged with, and we can also get warrants on other co-conspirators. With any luck, we'll have him in cuffs this evening. The Russian and Panzer may take a little longer, but we'll get them too."
-O-
Date: Sunday, 9 January, 2023
Time: 17:30 EST
Location: 5501 O'Donnell Street, Baltimore, MD – T.A. Motel, Panzer's room.
Panzer reached for the phone. "Yes…" He answered brusquely.
"It's me. You need to go back to D.C. and take care of our mutual friend immediately."
"Why the hell would I want to do that?" Panzer spat back angrily.
"Because I've just learned from a trusted source at the DoJ that they intend to arrest Roark shortly. If that happens, Roark will say I was involved in hiring you to do the job he wanted done, and I can't have that." Graham paused for effect. "Take care of it and I'll get you out of the country, send you contracts, and keep you protected. If you don't, there is no place you can hide where I can't get to you."
Panzer sat motionless for a moment. "Fine, but I want to get paid for all this shit you dropped me into, Graham. And I want to know what the exit plan is."
"You have my word," Graham said just before he cut the line.
Panzer hung up the phone, grabbed his "go-bag," and made his way out to his car. He would need to lure Roark to some place where he could kill him and escape unseen. He picked up his phone and dialed. The call had been short but tense, with Roark initially resisting Panzer's request for a face-to-face meeting. Eventually, Roark decided that placating Panzer was a strategically sound decision and agreed to the meeting as long as it could be held at a location where Roark felt safe. The vice president's residence had a pool and accompanying pool house, and it would be easy enough for Roark to have his detail wait outside while he met Panzer in the pool house. He gave Panzer some instructions and the security code to access the structure, but Panzer would need to scale the fence that surrounded the entire observatory and avoid detection of the cameras all on his own.
-O-
Date: Sunday, 9 January, 2023
Time: 18:35 EST
Location: Number One Observatory Circle, Washington, D.C. - Vice Presidential Residence
Panzer had stolen an old and beaten up Oldsmobile Cutlass from a neighborhood street in Baltimore, then stole a Washington D.C. license plate from a car parked at a nearby mall. He disabled the interior light before hot wiring the ignition and found a parking spot on a quiet and appropriately dark street just a few blocks from his destination. He checked his weapon, a Glock 19 with a suppressor, and exited the car, his dark gray clothing hiding him in the darkness. Traffic was light, and he timed his sprint across Massachusetts Avenue to minimize his exposure to any passing traffic. Once across the roadway, he continued his sprint right up to the fence that encircled the entire grounds of the Naval Observatory, including the Vice President's residence. The residence itself was in the northeast part of the property, and the ground between it and Massachusetts Avenue was reasonably dense with trees, providing cover. Panzer scaled the fence quickly, ironically using one of the "U.S. Government Property No Trespassing" signs conveniently located halfway up the fence to help him make his climb easier. Once on the ground, he darted from tree to tree until the pool-house was in sight. He slowly slinked his way to the rear of the pool house to avoid triggering the motion-sensitive lights and found the back door, exactly where Roark said it would be. With his gloved fingers, he punched the access code into the keypad and was rewarded with the sound of an electronic lock being disengaged. He checked his watch. He was early. He walked around the small living area of the pool house and settled himself in a corner near the rear exit but with a good view out of the glass doors that spanned the building's front.
-O-
"John? What news?" Jack asked as he picked up the phone.
"The lab results are back, Sir. The glass Roark handed you had enough Digitalis to level a healthy elephant in less than five minutes." Casey paused. "I'm grabbing Bartowski, Grimes, and a couple of others and heading out as soon as we receive the warrant, which, given the matter's sensitivity, is being handled directly by AG Latimer. We should have it any minute, Sir."
"John, I'm coming with you. Leaving the personal nature of his plans off the table for now, this man almost created a constitutional crisis. I need to be there when he is arrested."
"Sir…."
"Don't "sir" me, John. You know better."
Casey didn't really have any cards left to play; save one. "Sir, if you insist on accompanying me and the team on this action, I need you to wear your vest, please. If anything happened to you, the First Lady will have my guts for garters, Sir."
"Fine." Jack acquiesced. "I'll wear the damned vest. And not a word to Emma, or you'll be at the North Pole."
Casey grunted but, after a moment of concern, confirmed his agreement. "Aye-aye, Sir. Not even a whisper."
Jack reached for the phone and called up to the residence for Emma.
"Emma, I need you to ask Sarah to stay put until we have Roark in custody. The boys are preparing to serve the arrest warrant as we speak, but until I have that slippery bastard in handcuffs and behind bars, I want to keep the two of you out of any danger."
"Sarah just left for Chuck's place with Gertrude Verbanski," Emma responded. "She wanted to stay with him tonight before she caught the early shuttle to New York in the morning."
Jack understood but grimaced nonetheless. "I guess she's well protected for now, and hopefully, all of this will be over in the next hour or so. Love you."
"I can't wait for this to end, Jack. We all need a little normal back in our lives." Jack could feel Emma's warm smile across the phone line. "Love you too, Baby."
-O-
The ride to Chuck's apartment should have been reasonably quick, but Sarah asked Gertrude if she wouldn't mind stopping at one of Chuck's favorite Chinese restaurants so she could pick up a little late-night supper for the two of them.
"Thanks, Gertrude. I really appreciate it. I'll call it in, and hopefully, it will be ready by the time we arrive." Sarah smiled.
"No problem, Ma'am," Gertrude replied professionally.
"Gertrude, I respect your professionalism, I really do, but it's just us girls in here, so please call me Sarah."
Gertrude raised an eyebrow and then smiled back. "Okay, Sarah. So since it's just us girls, I have to tell you, I really love Chuck." Sarah's own eyebrow started to raise. "I mean, I love him like a younger brother! He's a really great guy, and I'm so glad to see him with someone who so obviously makes him happy."
"Thanks Gertrude. He makes me happy, too. I'm a very lucky girl." Sarah felt a blush in her cheeks. "Let me call in this order so we're not waiting too long." Sarah pulled out the paper menu of the "New Dynasty" restaurant on the corner of Hopkins and P Street she had pinched from Chuck's apartment, and as she dialed, she turned to Gertrude. "Gertrude, what would you like?"
"Thank you, Sarah, but I'm good. I already ate at the office."
Sarah completed her telephone order and was told there was a slight backup in the kitchen, so their order would be ready in about twenty minutes. They would just go to the restaurant and wait in the car until their order was ready, then pick it up and drive the remaining few blocks to Chuck's place.
-O-
Date: Sunday, 9 January, 2023
Time: 19:00 EST
Location: Number One Observatory Circle, Washington, D.C. - Vice Presidential Residence
Ted Roark walked across the pool deck, stopping for a moment to light a short but fat cigar….an illegally imported Cuban "Robusto."
"Vincent, you and your men hang back. I'm going to turn the stereo on and relax for a few minutes. My cigar should last between twenty and thirty minutes, and with all the stress of the office, I need a little getaway."
"Of course, Sir." Vincent turned to one of his men. "Williams, clear the pool house."
Roark immediately countermanded the order. "Relax, Williams. No need to check the pool house. You can see me through the glass doors as soon as I turn the light on."
Vincent pushed back, citing protocol, but Roark wouldn't budge. "Williams, please note that…" Vincent looked at his watch. "At nineteen forty-five, Vice President Roark ordered us to stand down from clearing the pool house in advance of his entry."
"Noted, Sir," Williams responded crisply as Roark blew out a large puff of smoke and turned back toward the pool house.
"Good. Thanks, boys. Back in about twenty minutes." Roark smiled to himself.
Less than ten minutes later, Casey, Jack, Chuck, Morgan, and the rest of the team were in a group of three Suburbans speeding towards the Vice President's residence, with their strobe lights flashing. As they sped through Washington D.C., Casey called Vincent Boles, the leader of the Vice President's detail.
"Boles," Vincent responded crisply into his mobile phone.
"Vince, this is Casey. Do you have eyes on Bear?" Casey inquired using Roark's code name.
"Affirmative. Bear has just gone to the pool house to have a cigar. We've been instructed to stay out. Do we have a credible threat against Bear?"
"Negative. No immediate threat that we are aware of. Vince, I want you and the team to operate BAU (business as usual) and maintain protocol. I am on my way to you now, and when I arrive, I will be taking command of the team."
"I don't understand. Did I fuck something up, Casey?"
"No, not at all. This is only temporary; you will have your team back within twenty minutes. In the meantime, you just do your job…BAU, and don't give Bear any reason to suspect anything unusual. Clear?"
"Five by five boss." Vincent looked around, a little puzzled by Casey's cryptic message and instructions.
-O-
Inside the pool house, Panzer stayed motionless in a crouched position by the back door. The pool deck was illuminated by the floodlights outside, but the inside of the pool house remained darkened. He heard the voices outside approaching, followed by Roark making his detail stand down. A moment later, he heard the electronic lock of the front door release, followed by the handle turning and opening of the door. Silhouetted against the external lights stood Roark, a cloud of smoke rolling over his head. Roark entered, closed the door, and turned on a single lamp on an end table. The inside of the pool house was softly illuminated, though Panzer remained in a darkened corner by the back door. Roark turned on the stereo and raised the volume to mask any conversation. And to not be seen talking, he turned a chair so his back was to the glass doors facing the pool.
"I presume you are here?" Roark hadn't seen Panzer, so he spoke loud enough to be heard without the sound carrying outside through the insulated glass and over the music.
Panzer pulled the automatic out from under his dark gray jacket and stood. "I am." He responded quietly.
"Okay, so we are both here. Now, what the hell do you have to tell me that requires we meet in person?"
Panzer didn't immediately answer, which pissed Roark off.
"Well? What is it you need to tell me?"
From his darkened corner, Panzer raised his Glock with one arm, keeping the other on the back door handle. "Langston Graham sends his regards." Panzer then fired twice, both shots hitting Roark in the center of his chest. Roark was killed instantly, and given that he was sitting in a semi-reclined chair, his body didn't slump or fall.
Panzer wasted no time, quickly and quietly slipping out the back, being careful not to activate the motion sensitive lights again, and racing through the trees back to where he had climbed the fence. He sprinted the last few yards, jumping up as high as he could to accelerate his climb over the fence and make his escape. He took a moment to catch his breath and looked left and right for any headlights coming from either direction. He saw none and made his move.
-O-
As Casey's convoy of Suburbans approached Massachusetts Avenue, Casey used the tactical radio to tell everyone to kill their strobes. There was no reason to spook Roark, and coming from the direction of the White House on Massachusetts Avenue meant their convoy would pass close enough to V.P.'s residence on the way to the main security gate to be visible. The three trucks turned onto Massachusetts Avenue at high speed when suddenly, a darkened shape darted in front of Casey's truck.
Casey slammed on the brakes, barely missing the man darting across the street and causing the other trucks behind him to come to a screeching halt.
"Panzer!" Chuck shouted, and before anyone could take action, Chuck spun out of the front passenger seat and was out the door while drawing his gun. At a dead run, he chased Panzer into a wooded area that separated the Naval Observatory from the neighboring area.
"Grimes! Back him up." Casey commanded as his truck leaped forward with its strobes flashes piercing the darkened night.
Morgan's truck peeled away from the convoy and headed around the block to cut off the escaping assassin. As Chuck ran and Morgan moved to intercept Panzer, Casey and the third truck accelerated towards the main gate of the Naval Observatory. Casey momentarily considered sending the second vehicle to support Chuck's pursuit but determined that keeping the bulk of President Walker's detail intact was a higher priority.
Chuck ran like a man possessed, but it was clear that his recovery wasn't near complete, and after the initial burst of adrenaline, his endurance started to fail him. He doubled over, hands on his knees, breathing heavily and feeling discomfort in his chest as his heart gave the repaired blood vessels a real workout. In the distance, he heard a car starting and accelerating hard, but he wasn't close enough to identify it.
"Morgan," Chuck called on the tactical radio. "He got in a car and took off. Heading back to Massachusetts Ave. Pick me up and call D.C. Metro Police and…." In the distance, he heard a screech and a crash. Chuck's adrenaline surged, and as he started to run towards the sound of the crash, his radio crackled to life.
"Chuck, I rammed him. He is still mobile, but his vehicle is damaged. Where the hell are you?"
"I see you, Morgan. I'm less than fifty meters on your right coming through the tree line."
Morgan kept his eyes on the taillight of the old Cutlass he had just smashed but failed to stop completely while he waited for Chuck. The door was ripped open in seconds, and a gasping Chuck Bartowski dove into the seat shouting. "Go, go, go!"
As Morgan accelerated, he radioed Casey. "Casey, I've got Chuck, and we are in pursuit. Panzer is in an old model dark colored Oldsmobile Cutlass southbound on Massachusetts." As Morgan spoke, Chuck used the car's radio to contact the emergency dispatch. Once connected, he ordered a helicopter as well as a request for local P.D. to support the pursuit but not engage the target, who is likely armed and extremely dangerous. The emergency dispatch sent the bulletin to all Secret Service vehicles and local P.D. dispatchers.
Morgan and Chuck chased Panzer down Massachusetts Avenue, following him onto the Rock Creek Parkway south while constantly announcing their changes in position to dispatch. Panzer swerved hard right, taking the exit for P Street as Morgan and Chuck closed on him.
-O-
Sarah paid and collected a large bag with various containers, including Chuck's favorite, sizzling shrimp. As she and Gertrude climbed back in the truck, the bulletin came through the truck's radio.
"All units be advised – Agents Bartowski and Grimes in pursuit of suspected assassin Hugo Panzer. The suspect is in an older model dark-colored Oldsmobile Cutlass eastbound on P Street crossing 22nd Street North West. Assistance requested. Approach with caution as the suspect is likely armed and extremely dangerous."
Sarah and Gertrude looked at each other for a moment before Gertrude decided. With a clear and commanding voice, Gertrude spoke. "Sarah, out of the car. Go into the restaurant, find a quiet spot in the back, and wait until I come and get you. Go!"
Sarah was shocked initially by the news of Chuck being in pursuit of their assassin, then by Gertrude's order. Without thinking too much, she obeyed and slipped out of the vehicle. She quickly moved to the restaurant's entrance, but as she was about to enter, her brain clicked, and she stopped moving to look over the scene unfolding before her.
-O-
Gertrude had her game face on. She started the truck and pulled onto P Street, pointing westbound and setting up a head-to-head confrontation with Panzer, who had Chuck and Morgan directly behind him and probably half of the Metro P.D. just behind them. As she pulled out, she saw Panzer's car closing on her and she could see Chuck and Morgan's truck right behind him. Without hesitation, she slammed down on the accelerator as she flicked on her strobe lights and veered the heavy truck directly into the path of Panzer's Oldsmobile.
The impact was spectacular as the sounds of shattering glass and groaning metal pierced the relative quiet of a Sunday evening. The two vehicles came to rest with Verbanski's suburban pinning Panzer's Cutlass against a parked car. Verbanski's advantage in the crash was that she knew it was coming, so she was prepared. It was also helpful that the Suburban was heavier, reinforced, and had full airbags. The problem was that Panzer's old Cutlass was only marginally smaller and lighter than the Suburban, and given that his car was traveling at speed, the momentum he carried transferred more of the impact force to Gertrude's vehicle.
The sound of the crash soon gave way to the sound of car alarms and the Suburban's horn as Gertrude Verbanski's semiconscious body leaned onto the steering wheel behind the now depleted airbag.
Less than fifty feet behind the conflagration, Morgan managed to bring his behemoth to a screeching halt, sliding the big truck sideways to block both sides of the road with the nose of the car stopping in the oncoming lane. As Chuck and Morgan exited their vehicle, they saw Panzer stumble out of his wrecked car, blood covering his face.
"Freeze Panzer!" Chuck commanded as he assumed a two-handed "Weaver" position, his weapon fixed on Panzer's center mass.
With surprising speed, Panzer fired two blind shots toward Chuck, then dove onto the hood of the Cutlass, sliding over the far side of the vehicle. The sudden move put the Cutlass between him and Bartowski and Morgan Grimes, who had taken up a position behind the hood of the Suburban. While Chuck signaled to Morgan to circle around the crash site, Panzer took a moment to consider his situation and noticed that the horn of the Suburban had stopped blaring, and through the shattered windshield, he could see Gertrude Verbanski struggle with her seatbelt to join the fight. He thought that perhaps the heavy truck was still marginally operable and decided to make a move for it. With his pistol in front of him, he moved towards the driver-side door, keeping himself low and his eyes fixed on Verbanski. As he raised his weapon to fire, he felt himself slammed into the side of the Suburban from behind. The impact was unexpected, and as a result of the angle, he not only broke his nose on the running board of the Suburban but somehow lost his grip on the pistol he was holding.
-O-
From less than twenty feet away, Sarah watched in horror as Gertrude sacrificed her vehicle by accelerating into the assassin's oncoming car. She felt small pieces of tempered glass hit her as the side windows of the parked car in front of her shattered from the impact. She stood frozen, clutching the doorway to the entrance as everything in front of her seemed to suddenly slow down. She saw Chuck leap out of the trailing Suburban, sort of heard him shouting something at the man exiting the car, then was shocked back to the present when the man fired two shots wildly before diving over the hood of his wrecked car.
She saw the man looking at Gertrude, who seemed to be having difficulty getting herself out of her truck. She watched the man move toward Gertrude, his intentions suddenly clear.
Without a thought, Sarah ran toward the man, who was fixated on Gertrude and facing away from her. Her body on autopilot, she leaped and executed a Bruce Lee-worthy flying sidekick into the center of the man's back, driving him hard into the side of the Suburban. Sarah fell back on her ass and started to crabwalk backward as the man she just slammed quickly regained his faculties.
"Oh fuck." Sarah exclaimed.
-O-
Panzer quickly regained his situational awareness. He was on his back and unarmed. Without another thought, his right hand grabbed his broken nose and, with a sickening cracking sound, straightened it. As he wiped the blood away from his eyes, he saw a blonde woman trying to crabwalk backward away from him. Instinctively, he reached for her ankle, but his blood-slicked hand couldn't gain purchase on Sarah's polished leather riding boots, and she managed to scoot a little further away. He needed a hostage, and the blonde was as good as anyone. His vision was compromised by the blood and the concussion he suffered from the crash in the "non-airbagged" Cutlass, but he could still move with surprising quickness for a man of his size, particularly after an accident that would have broken most men.
Panzer lunged at Sarah, whose only defense crawling backward on her butt was to kick as hard as she could as he came in range. Sarah was athletic and strong, and when her first kick landed squarely on Panzer's already broken nose, his initial attack failed.
"Bitch" he screamed, completely enraged as he stood at his full height to launch his assault. "I'm going to….
Sarah heard three loud bangs and watched Panzer's expression change from rage to disbelief as several dark blooms appeared across his chest. Panzer's eyes rolled back as he fell to his knees and forward, nearly landing on top of Sarah. As Panzer's massive frame fell, Sarah saw Chuck standing on the hood of the Cutlass, the pistol in both hands and smoke still surging from the barrel.
"Chuck….!"
Sarah knew Chuck was on the scene, but Chuck had no idea Sarah would be anywhere near the pursuit and subsequent shootout, so with all the adrenaline of the chase and shooting of Panzer, his brain had difficulty connecting the dots for a moment….but just a moment.
"Sarah? Are you alright? What happened? How are you here?" He asked as he jumped down from the car. He made sure Panzer was no longer a threat before he scooped Sarah up and held her, his eyes locking with hers. "Sarah?"
"I'm okay, Chuck. I'm fine. Gertrude?"
Chuck turned to see Morgan pulling the door to the Suburban open and helping Gertrude step down.
"Morgan," Chuck called out. "Is Gertrude okay?"
Morgan gave Chuck a thumbs up as he helped Gertrude take a seat on the curb, then called dispatch with an update as Metro P.D. squad cars filled the intersection.
-O-
Casey piloted the Suburban through the main gate by the U.S. Naval Observatory's master clock display and made the first left, taking the big truck to the back of the residence, the closest access point to the pool. As the trucks came to a halt, Casey turned to President Walker, who was in the back seat. "Sir, Stay here with Agents Wilkins, Brown, Shapiro, and Holden, and I'll advise as soon as the area is secured." Casey stormed out of the truck and raced onto the pool deck, looking for Vincent.
"Vince, where's Bear?" Casey asked with urgency.
"He's right there, boss. In the chair smoking his cigar." Vincent pointed to the chair facing away from him and the telltale cloud of smoke wafting above it.
"Gentlemen, until further notice, I am assuming command of this team. Williams, Rogers, back of the pool house. Go." Casey turned back to Vincent. "Vince, Larry, you're with me." As Casey drew his service weapon, Vincent and Larry did the same. Casey walked up to the glass door and knocked.
"Mr. Vice President, It's John Casey; I need a word with you outside, please." The request got no response, causing Casey to knock again, this time yelling to ensure his voice carried over the stereo.
No answer.
Casey put his hand on the door handle and carefully opened the door, his service weapon in front of him as he scanned the room for any threat. As he entered, he motioned for Vincent and Larry to stay back and cover him. He took two more steps forward, and his head slumped as he lowered his gun. He stood solemnly for a moment, then turned to Vincent as he holstered his service weapon.
"Vincent, have everyone stand down and pull back to the pool deck. Larry, go get President Walker. It's safe."
Vincent looked at Casey. "Casey, what the fuck is going on?"
Casey looked at Vince for a moment before speaking. "Come here, Vince." Casey put his hand on Vince's shoulder and steered him around Roark's chair. "Vince, Bear is dead."
Vince's jaw dropped as he turned to see Roark's corpse, just as he heard Casey's words. "Was the room checked before Roark came in here?"
"No. As I mentioned to you earlier, we were instructed to stay out. In fact, I directed Williams to clear the room before Bear entered, but he gave us a stand-down order. I made Williams note the order and the time, and I'm sure the after-action report will verify it as the whole team heard the conversation."
"Good. Now….all of this is to be kept quiet until I tell you otherwise. We'll debrief your men shortly, but it's of critical importance that until you're instructed otherwise, "no comment" is the rule of the day."
As Casey finished with Vincent Boles, Larry arrived, flanking President Walker with the four members of the Presidential security detail.
Casey turned to Jack Walker, "Sir, it would appear that Hugo Panzer, the man we almost ran over, was fleeing the scene after killing Vice President Roark. As you heard on the radio, Bartowski is chasing him down as we speak, and I'm sure we will have him in custody shortly. The good news is that this presumably removes the target from you and your family, but we need to make quick decisions about handling this."
Jack Walker's face was an impassive mask, though his hands were balled into tight fists. "The truth, John. We tell the truth. All of it." Jack Walker shook his head in frustration and growled, "This was too easy an out for that piece of shit."
Jack's musings were interrupted when dispatch sent out the communication that the pursuit had ended and that the suspect was shot and killed at the scene of the stop. He gave Casey a small smile. "I guess it's over, huh?"