Chuck vs The Wayward Legionnaire
Chapter 2: Plans and Carina Miller's Lonely-Hearts Club.
"…you're going to have to join … the French Foreign Legion….", he finished.
"WWHHAATTTT!?..." spluttered Chuck! From the surprised and confused faces on the rest of the split screens he wasn't the only one, for a moment Chuck's mind flashed back to Saturday mornings watching TV with his parents and Ellie laughing as they watched Laurel and Hardy in Legionnaire uniforms doing some madcap skit or Gary Cooper in Beau Geste looking grim and majestic in his Kepi Blanc facing the Tuareg horde in the battle for the doomed Fort Zinderneuf. He almost giggled at a thought of himself and Morgan, crawling across a desert calling "Water! Water!", or more likely in Morgan's case, a gasped, "Grape soda….!"
Oisin let the idea settle, "Chuck, it's a shock, but hear me out and not just for the points I already made, there's more, most importantly, you'll gain some real skills that can only help you should things go bad. Let's face it, in the near two years you've been under the 'protection' of the CIA/NSA have they taught you anything practical? Weapons, self-defence?"
That hit Chuck hard. He'd often suggested to Sarah and Casey that he could use some basic training, Sarah had shot him down immediately, no pun intended, and Casey… well Casey, once he'd stopped laughing, had just growled, and promised Chuck if he ever had the need to lose another toe, then and only then would he consider Chuck for training. Beckman had sided with Sarah, it seemed while the Intersect had been ultimately destined for a trained agent, the thoughts of a trained Chuck Bartowski was a bridge too far for the General. Besides given his unpredictability, the last thing Beckman probably wanted was a Chuck Bartowski that she couldn't control, and Diane Beckman was all about control thought Chuck.
He had to admit, once you got past the strangeness of the idea of the French Foreign Legion, the thoughts of being trained, even in a foreign army appealed to a side of him that the five years after Stanford had taken from him. A new identity, language, nationality, a chance to make his own destiny suddenly filled him with a glimpse of hope for an end to this journey that Bryce's email had started.
"You seem to be very familiar with the Legion, Oisin," He remarked as reined in his thoughts.
The older man smiled, "I have some experience, Chuck" He stood suddenly, taking his desk laptop in his hand, he walked to a series of pictures on his office wall, turning the laptop so the webcam could capture the images, the group were amazed to see a younger Oisin in a tiger striped BDU with a rucksack across his shoulder and a matching helmet as he smiled at the camera, he seemed a larger, more vital version of the man he now was.
Kryst gave out an appreciative laugh, "Ooh la la, Oisin, tres bien, very handsome, it's true what they say about a man in uniform!"
He laughed in reply, "Thank you my dear." Sven Ohlsen smiled and gave a low whistle, "I never would have thought that of you Oisin" he gestured towards the picture with a mock salute. His girlfriend laughed again.
Oisin gave them a mock glare but smiled. "A moment of madness in my youth Sven, but honestly, it was a different world back then, you had time to make mistakes, life wasn't the rush to get somewhere that it is now, no mobiles, no laptops, I dropped out of college in my third year, jumped on a boat to France with some friends, ended up drunk in a bar in Paris and somehow got talked into spending the next five years of my life in the Legion!". The others nodded, amused, and thrilled to find a new discovery about their friend.
And it had been great, well, selection and training had been torturous, but he'd had a hell of a time, made friends for life with a great bunch of lads from all over the world, he even ended up jumping out of planes in the 2nd Rep, the elite parachute unit of the Legion. He shook his head at the memories.
"Look, Chuck, it's not just about the things that may or may not turn out to benefit you if you sign up, I get it's a shock," he said, looking at Chuck's concerned face on the monitor, "but you won't be alone in there, trust me, you're going to have an advantage I never had, a guardian angel to show you ropes and keep an eye on you, just in case, and so we can stay in touch."
With that the screen changed to show a picture of another man, the family resemblance was easy to see, it was like looking at Oisin part two, only this man had a serious looking face, he was in the company of two other men, one had a Slavic aspect to his features and the other man, the oldest looking of the trio had a more Mediterranean look to his face, he had a broad smile on his face that made up for the other two, who appeared like they were frowning but it was easy to see they were comrades. They had green berets on their heads, the famous Legion flaming grenade could be seen and the BDUs they wore were of the recent type favoured by most armies.
"My son Sean, that was his promotion to Caporal, he's going to be your guide and mentor inside Chuck, you'll be in good hands, I promise." There was a note of pride in Oisin's voice that raised Chuck's spirit, he was humbled that the older man was entrusting him to his son, he knew if they didn't pull this off, there would be repercussions for all involved, it had taken him some moments to accept that Oisin had given this a lot of thought, and he'd yet to hear all of the plan, yet that fact resolved him. He took a deep breath.
"Oisin, I'm in, if you think this is the best way to do it, then I'm in."
"I think it is Chuck, it's a military organisation, the French police or Gendarmes actively discourage the general public taking unsolicited pictures of Legionnaires, plus, mobile phones are rarely allowed on bases, and never during basic training, that's about four months at the Farm…"
"Farm?", laughed Chuck nervously, "I thought you were sending me to France not Virginia".
Oisin grinned, "One of life's strange coincidences, the Legion training facility at Castelnaudary, or Castel is also dubbed "The Farm", where they grow new Legionnaires, there you'll be safe from the outside world. On a military base, there's very little chance of outside surveillance, and once you pass selection, everywhere you go will be by military means, so no interaction with civilian transportation systems, unless you want to, but keeping off the radar will be so much easier, plus your exposure to news media will be limited, so hopefully that will prevent you from "flashing". Don't worry, we'll have a means through my son of staying in contact with you. We'll talk in more detail when we meet."
"We're going to meet. Face to face?"
"Absolutely! There're other things I want to set in motion for you, trust me, good things. Now we just have to get you there and more importantly deal with the Interpol/FBI background checks that French Military Intelligence will surely run. And for that, I'll let Dieter explain, after all, it was his brainchild and has kept us ahead of the Law, that is, until we met you".
Chuck turned to look at Dieter Handel who was smiling smugly to himself. He began, "We call it the Janus worm. I'm sure you recognise the deity. After the group started losing members, we figured that it was down to law enforcement, we had all performed multijurisdictional hacks and were unsure even if we had been able to hide all our traces, so I hit upon the idea of using the Interpol database against the various Intelligence and Police agencies of Europe by implanting a worm, coded to recognise our information and so …alter it from agency to agency if a query is made. Let me demonstrate."
Chuck could see him tapping away at his keyboard, suddenly he heard his own laptops webcam take his picture, "HEY!" he groused.
"Relax! It's part of the show!" snapped Dieter, "Now watch, I am Interpol contacting Kryst, who is the Swiss national Police to enquire about the infamous Piranha!" He finished with a flourish. Kryst and Dieter had paired their screens on Chucks so he could see the demonstration and once he calmed down, he found he was following with interest.
"So, we had copied the standard query protocols that both agencies use for tracing suspects or exchanging information on same, so as far as our systems think, I am Interpol and she is Swiss police, the Janus worm is active on both, now watch as I send your file and picture, made by me, asking her to be aware of your suspected presence in Switzerland." He hit send. Chuck watched as the sent file arrived within seconds on Kryst's screen, but oh what a difference a few seconds had made to his appearance, description, and file information.
The picture that stared back at an amazed Chuck was of a man with straight blond hair in a businessman like haircut, green eyes, his cheekbones were more pronounced and his lips fuller! What stunned him though, was he could still see himself in the picture, but if he didn't know his own face … the implication hit him hard, anybody who hadn't, wouldn't know the difference, this was amazing, no wonder the Intersect had been the only computer-based system that could see through the deception the others had woven about themselves, he was impressed!
If the information being sent out was being altered before the other agencies received it, they would have no idea it had been changed in the first place! Especially if their own databases had already been compromised as they had been done. This was unlike getting information he'd mentioned in the hunts by Sarah and Casey, yes, they released mock ups of the suspects face, but it was the suspect. His information had been fundamentally changed right from the get-go. It was nothing like the starting point!
He quickly scanned his file to see his vital stats had all changed too, not by much, he was now six-foot one inch and slightly lighter in weight. His other information that Arjun had fabricated had also been just a tiny bit altered. But enough, not even facial recognition would get a hit off this! A low whistle of appreciation escaped his lips.
The German smiled, "Praise from the Piranha, is praise indeed!" The others chuckled along too; it was an impressive display no matter how many times they witnessed it.
"The best part is," he continued," Janus generates a marker that attaches to the enquiry, no matter where it goes, we can trace it and alter it further and more importantly, ensure neither side thinks something untoward has occurred. Any returns from the receiving agency are captured and Janus turns their information back to the original format, so the initiator never knows that the information was altered, since it was garbage in, it's garbage out, there are no positive results…".
Chuck agreed, "That was amazing, no wonder Beckman was seeking the Intersects help, and you've managed to get this on Interpol's servers?" Dieter nodded, "Not just theirs, but every Intelligence and Law Agency in Europe and most of Asia.", He added.
Chuck was shocked! "How…?" That was as far as he got before Paul Radcliffe entered the conversation, "Soooo, as a Systems Analyst for everybody's favourite national Telecom, BT….," he deadpanned, gaining another few giggles from the group, "… I was maybe involved in some classified work at the new NCSC and maybe I accidentally uploaded a copy of Janus on the main server during a trial run of some new hardware…" He pulled a face and made an imaginary pat on his back, "…piece of cake after that, anytime the NCSC sent out a message or file to any other agency after that, they all got a little bonus worm that did exactly what it says on the tin. It burrowed deep, and went to work, hiding our information or altering it very subtlety. Reckon that's why they're all clamouring for the NSA magic bullet solution." He looked pointedly at Chuck as the rest of the group did likewise. He gulped in embarrassment; a thought occurred to him.
"Have you managed to upload a version of Janus on the FBI/NSA servers yet?"
This time Travers answered. "We were in the process of doing so, Chuck, when you contacted us, as you can imagine, the US agencies are not as easy to get to as the European ones, and because we were waiting to see how Janus performed there, myself and Dieter with Akio had planned the hack for a month from now."
That made sense, Chuck thought. His recent mission with Cole Barker had had him interact with British Intelligence and he had helped Cole connect with MI6 through Castle and had had a chance to analyse their setup, he had been less than impressed but kept his thoughts to himself on the structure of their firewalls and IT protocols, they were definitely behind the US he felt with no great source of pride. It was time for him to contribute again.
"I'll do the upload from here; I mean in the US... I... I mean here in LA... in Castle. "He finally got out.
The others regarded him in silence, they were smart people, it didn't need to be spelt out, Chuck was on the inside, an upload from Castle would filter downwards much faster than a lower level hack on an outside server, this way the worm would travel faster through the US IC and Law Enforcement circuit and more likely cover a lot more ground than their planned hack, that would have had to fight it's way uphill. No, Chuck's way was better, but not without risk.
"Are you sure you want to do that Chuck?" asked Mike.
"No choice, Mike, besides its two birds with one stone sort of deal, as my plan to deal with the Intersect has to be done onsite in Castle anyway".
"About that, Chuck", asked Akio, "What is your plan?"
"I am going to alter the Intersect program and rewrite the code so that it can't 'see' us, or prevent the next Intersect from doing so, I just need to alter the coding with my own version and hopefully whoever Beckman gets to upload, will have a surprise when they try to flash on us." He laughed.
"Will you have that kind of time to analyse and reprogram Chuck? Won't there be agents in Castle as well as surveillance? You'd need hours if not days to make those kinds of adjustments!"
"I would Akio", smiled Chuck, "…if I hadn't of already got a copy of an Intersect program...!"
That surprised everyone in the group. "How the hell did you manage that!?" asked a stunned looking Akio, the look on his face was shared by the others.
"Well…", began Chuck…
A Couple of Months Earlier, Fulcrum Suburb, Fulcrum Intersect Laboratory
The Fulcrum scientists' screams had died down, their eyes locked inward on some horror as the download had destroyed their minds. Chuck cautiously looked down at Sarah, he gently released her from the hold that had kept her face shielded against his body, he could feel her reluctance to end the embrace, but Casey was already exiting the control booth heading towards them.
"You, ok?" he asked as her blue eyes fastened on his and she gave a tentative smile in return. His heart swelled. She was fine. "Are you Chuck? That's the second download you've endured in the last 30 minutes." There was concern in her voice as Sarah searched Chuck's eyes.
"Ackk!" came from Casey, "The moron's fine! Come on Walker, we better check for any strays and phone this in, Beckman is going to have kittens, put the moron in the control room and let's go! Bartowski! Stay put and wait for us to return!" Chuck nodded and moved to the room as Sarah finally released him and picking up a discarded pistol made to follow Casey. "Stay here Chuck, ok? We won't be long" She smiled as she shut the door, she mimed locking it to Chuck, who with an answering smile of his own did so and sat down at the main console. She locked eyes with him one more time and disappeared after Casey.
Wow, thought Chuck, that was peculiar, he could still feel the aftereffects of the failed Fulcrum download, it had felt intrusive at first but then oddly he had felt it slip as if it couldn't gain a foothold in his mind, he guessed the program wasn't as advanced as the Government version, as he sat there the thought loomed large in his mind. He finally had an Intersect program!
He was suddenly elated and disappointed at the same time. He could finally see the code and get an understanding of the process, but… that could take more time than he knew he had, Sarah and Casey could be back any moment. It was so unfair! If only… he thought rapidly, quickly he accessed the console, he checked for an Internet connection, he almost yelled with joy when he found a connection to the outside.
The Fulcrum scientists must have been so sure in their own security that they never air gapped their systems. He quickly made a connection to a remote server that he knew was safe, a lot of hacker stuff from his Piranha days was stored there, he didn't dare store anything at home or on his own systems, he didn't think Casey, or the NSA suspected his alter ego, but he wasn't taking any chances!
The Fulcrum system was fast! Even so, Chuck kept a nervous eye on the door the others had gone through, A ping from the console told him the copy of the program was delivered, he had just wiped all traces of his activities from the logs and was shutting down the system when a large hand knocked loudly on the door from behind!
With a yell of "EEPPP!", he jumped in the chair before spinning around to face a snarling Casey! "What the hell are you doing, moron?", he yelled at a cowering Chuck. He opened the door to the angry agent.
"I-I-I was just shutting down the system in case it accidently downloaded again ..." stammered out Chuck. A suspicious looking Casey threw his gaze over the console, but he was no computer expert. "Walker's upstairs on the horn to Beckman, you join her, I'll tidy up down here…" His tone invited no discussion. "No problem, Casey, see you up there..." The answering grunt was lost to Chuck as he launched himself at the door, had John Casey taken the time to glance upwards at the departing form of the younger man, he might have noticed a sly grin forming on his face, but his attention was on the console.
Present day.
"… and that's how I managed to get my hands on an Intersect ..." finished Chuck with a grin.
The others had listened in amazement to Chuck's adventure, whatever else about his situation, he certainly wasn't lacking in excitement, scary, bullet ridden and possible torture if the bad guys catch you sort of excitement. But excitement nonetheless!
Akio Minoru was practically jumping for joy! This was better than they all could have expected. This discovery gave them a real fighting chance against the powers that were arrayed against them. As if reading his mind, Akio watched as Chuck quickly accessed the remote server and furnished the group with access. Akio wasted no time, mindful not to access the upload sequence, he quickly found the backdoor to the main program that he suspected Chuck had left there for just this purpose, he watched as his screen filled with code that seemed more like alchemy than a computer language, he sat there enthralled as it morphed, constantly changing shape, it was a chameleon, a hydra, a daemon, it was breath-taking…
"Have you….?", he started to ask, when Chuck replied "…found the root commands and subroutines, yes Akio. I have, still working on the delivery mechanism, but I have identified the coding algorithm, I can code my own information into the upload..." He looked at the excited Japanese.
"I'd be honoured to accept any and all help to finish that, without it ...", he trailed off.
"...without it we won't be in any position to prevent them from finding us again...", finished Akio for him. Chuck nodded.
Oisin looked around the virtual room again. It was time to finalise things. He had a plan worked out at last, a way out.
"Ok folks, so here's a run-through, Chuck and Akio need to find a means of sabotaging the Intersect upload for the next host, Dieter needs to get a copy of Janus prepped and sent to Chuck for uploading at 'Castle', Mike, how do you fancy a vacation in sunny LA?"
Travers laughed, "From sunny Las Vegas? It would be a pleasure to! I take it you also want me to tend to those other matters we discussed earlier?" Oisin nodded.
Noting Chucks surprised expression, Travers elaborated, "Chuck, we're going to have to get you out using the very system that's imprisoned you in LA against its owners, and for that, I'm going to have to work some magic on the ground, while the rest work their magic online".
"Use the system against the CIA/NSA? How are you going to manage that?" asked Chuck.
"Oh, that's easy, we're going to hit them with one of the biggest Cyber-attacks in history!"
There was a stunned silence from Chuck Bartowski….
18th March 2009 Atlantis Hotel Bar, Thira, Santorini.
I Think I'm Paranoid, by Garbage.
You can look but you can't touch
I don't think I like you much
Heaven knows what a girl can do
Heaven knows what you've got to prove
I think I'm paranoid
And complicated
I think I'm paranoid
Manipulated
Bend me, break me
Any way you need me
All I want is you
Bend me, break me
Breaking down is easy
All I want is you
I fall down just to give you a thrill
Prop me up with another pill
If I should fail, if I should fold
I nailed my faith to the sticking pole
I think I'm paranoid
Manipulated
I think I'm paranoid
Too complicated…
"AAAAAARRGGGHHHH!"
The large Slavic looking man in the expensive but ill-fitting silk shirt and Bermuda shorts ran down the bar screaming in loud shrill voice, shocked heads followed as he headed towards the exit holding his arm high as he left a trail of dripping blood on the tiled floor behind him from his tightly clutched forearm, a large man, neatly turned out in a blazer with smart slacks entered the room.
Duncan Andrews sighed, Staff Sergeant retd, formerly Her Majesty's 22nd Special Air Service, that was until an IED in Afghanistan had gone off in his face leaving him with some loss of night vision and an early retirement, he rolled his eyes in exasperation as he made his way into the bar lobby. What now, he thought. His old comrade in arms Stuart MacCallum had been first on the line to grab his services for the private sector, and so after a quick "medical" which turned out to be a titanic piss up in a pub in Aberdeen, he had signed up to protect one Sergei Filatov, a Russian Oligarch will more money than God and less sense about his security than the average gerbil, which for a Russian was quite shocking.
It had been highly boring, until Filatov had decided to take semi-retirement from his mineral company upon the sudden passing of his younger, second wife and former chauffeur at the business end of a Tokarev 9mm, hurriedly leaving control in the hands of his sons, he had relocated to his superyacht and proceeded to sail to as many foreign bars as possible in a vainglorious attempt to drink and fuck himself to death with no particular destination in mind. His country's police had made a half-hearted effort to catch up to him to discuss his rather unique version of a divorce. However, he was a pal of the Premier, so they were in no rush to do so and as long as he never touched Russian soil again, he was golden.
As far as security went, it was trivial stuff, Filatov was like the drunken uncle at a wedding, a generally lovable idiot whose wealth had so far kept him from serious trouble abroad, mainly because of his lack of social graces, particularly in the company of younger, beautiful women caused him no end of difficultly.
Apparently, the thought that these women might not enjoy being pawed up by a man old enough to be their grandfather never occurred to the almost permanently drunk oligarch.
Luckily his lawyer, who recognising his client's social limitations had sent along a trusted member of his family firm to chaperone and so any issues with the young ladies was usually straightened out with some money as well as a legally binding NDA to 'assist' them in forgetting about Filatov as he blundered forward to his next adventure.
To Duncan it appeared his principal may have fucked up royally on this occasion, on first sighting Duncan thought he may have been 'glassed', a favourite Scottish tradition of settling pub disputes! His other bodyguards, his nephews, the Orlov twins, Mikhail and Misha had already checked on their uncle who was now screaming bloody murder and demanding retribution, Dimitri the driver, a former Russian army medic was on his way in, summoned by the older of the two, Misha, earning a grunt of approval from Duncan over the secure CommNet they employed.
He sighed, the morning had been going so well too, the lawyer had taken the chance to go buy some souvenirs for his wife and so Filatov had followed the usual pattern of a morning walk to clear the head from the night before, once done, he had ambled to the bar for an early start to the day's debauchery. Duncan had decided to take the perimeter, mainly because he could smoke his head off and catch no further crap from the hotel manager who was already on Duncan's shitlist for the way he dealt with the Russian party, the old saying money can't buy class was true, but anybody with Filatov's kind of wealth generally got some leeway.
The two musclebound twins were now enroute to the cause of Filatov's current discomfort, coming up behind them, Duncan had a chance to see who he might be dealing with. His blood froze, staring at him and the twins was two of the most beautiful women he had ever seen in his life, a tall blonde and an even taller redhead watched the approaching men with the coldest pairs of blue eyes he had ever seen, their faces were expressionless, but that wasn't what bothered him and sent his sixth sense screaming into overdrive.
The Orlov twins on a collision course in trouble situations had most people backing away at their approach as if sensing the impending storm of violence, not these two, as Duncan watched, they readied themselves, their toned athletic physiques weren't just fine examples of genetics and womanhood, they were trained! The redhead had her right hand seemingly idling by her slightly open clutch purse that he noted was just the right size for a decent handgun, the blonde with the freaking icy stare was likewise positioned and her other hand was resting on her open sarong, which not only showcased her long toned legs but he was pretty sure to reach the knife rig he was betting Filatov had just sampled, probably after letting his hands wander where they shouldn't have.
He sped up and the closer he got, the more he noticed, there was some exceptional cosmetic surgery on the bodies of the two women, there was an assortment of bullet and knife wounds on their bodies and possibly a burn on the redhead's inner arm, these were no simpering debutantes on a holiday break, these were seasoned operatives, and judging by their American style swimwear, a couple of Langley's finest! He swallowed but managed to work up enough moisture to whistle a six part tune he had patiently drummed into the twins' heads.
Misha the eldest glanced back at his boss and seeing his face quickly reached forward grabbing his younger, by twenty minutes, brother's arm causing him to stop and shoot an angry glance at his older sibling. Duncan smiled grimly, Misha's stock had been rising steadily in his eyes since he took over the security detail, he could see a bright future for Misha in the protection game, he was smart and paid attention, Mikhail...well Mikhail was probably going to face a career change at some point, however, today was not the day. Duncan caught up to the two, Misha had said nothing, but he raised an enquiring eyebrow at his boss. "Spion", muttered Duncan softly, Misha's other eyebrow joined the other, only this time in surprise.
"Come little brother, let's get our Uncle Sergei to the car and then the boat". Mikhail started to protest but a glare from his older brother silenced him and with a curse he spun on his heel and headed back up the bar. Duncan patted Misha appreciatively on the shoulder. "Get Filatov the fuck out of here." He quietly added, "I'll catch up later, time to smooth things over". "Da, boss", nodded Misha gratefully. He followed his brother.
Duncan turned his attention to the two ladies, he reached very slowly inside his blazer, when his hand returned, he held a black credit card, one of Filatov's that he kept on standby, if it had a limit, he wasn't aware of the amount.
The blonde and redhead's shoulders relaxed just a tad, the blonde sat back down as the redhead let some emotion seep back into her eyes and took up a stance that in normal circumstances would have given Duncan the impression that he was about to get lucky. He raised an enquiring eyebrow and waited for a response, the redhead gave him a sultry smile and with a nod beckoned him forward, her hand never left her purse though.
Duncan took a deep breath and stepped forward; the blonde was still throwing some side-eye, but he ignored it as part of the dance he was about to engage in.
"Ladies, I must apologize on behalf of Mr. Filatov, I assure you that he's quite harmless and soon to be on his way to … a more congenial place, however, I must insist upon making amends on his behalf." Nodding to the shaking head barman who had run and cowered at the first sight of blood, and had finally managed to unpeel himself from the far end of the bar and joined them, Duncan handed over the credit card, looking the man in the eye he ordered, "Whatever the ladies would like, and I would also like to buy the occupants of the bar the next three rounds of whatever they're partaking of!"
He had raised his voice on the last part and a small cheer went up from the English-speaking contingent who proceeded to shout in their orders. Nodding in the direction of the two women, he added, "When the ladies have decided to leave the premises, settle their bill and ask the manager to forward the credit card to this address, adding a fifty percent tip for yourself and your colleagues". He added a business card, the barman smiled and taking the cards behind the bar started serving the guests.
"Why thank you Mr…?." breathed the redhead as she stepped a bit closer, Carina Miller noted the scars around the man's eyes, a professional job had been done but his doctors hadn't worked to the exacting standards that covert agencies did. She'd already guessed military by his bearing and his situational awareness said special forces to her.
Officer? She wondered. No, she decided, he was a working soldier. Cute too. From the sounds of it, he wanted to be gone, but he had stayed to check her and Walker out. Professionally.
Clever boy, he was wondering where they here for work or just happenstance. Pity, she thought. He was tasty looking, and she was feeling hungry…
"Duncan, Miss?" Duncan started to relax. Her perfume was wafting about his nose, earthy and arousing... for once he was sorry, he hadn't entered with Filatov, this might have turned into an enjoyable experience for him. Carina could see he was worried for his client and decided to let him off the hook. "Carina," she didn't add a last name, but there was some amusement in her tone, "well Duncan, it appears my friend may have been slightly overzealous in admonishing your client…", that earned a harrumph from the blonde, the redhead glared at her but continued, "… but we're here on a break, what say we take advantage of your kind offer and let bygones be byGONES..." she emphasised, letting the last syllable drag out as she raised her voice slightly. She proffered her hand which Duncan took and with a smile and a flourish, he placed a kiss on it, then he left.
Carina made the international gesture understood by barmen the world over for a refill and sat down heavily beside her friend.
"Jesus Walker! Did you have to carve the idiot up that badly?"
"Carina, I SAID no touching and I said it TWICE..." snapped Sarah back at the glowering redhead as if that explained everything.
Carina sighed and picked up her drink, this had been going on for a while now. She'd been happy when Walker called out of the blue a few days earlier, she thought there might have been some residue from the diamond mission, well you win some and you lose some, honours even she'd thought, considering she'd dropped a bomb named Cabo in the geek's unhappy lap.
"OH, FOR FUCKS SAKE…!" She swore and rolled her eyes as realization hit.
Startled, Walker shot a glance at her companion, "What...?".
"It's him, isn't it? That's what this whole …", Carina gestured with her hands, "… GAH! …attitude is all about! Tell me I'm wrong Walker!".
Sarah Walker groaned, she stared at the glass in her hand, she should have known her best friend, perhaps her only friend in the espionage world wasn't going to be fooled, they knew each other far too long. Her silence, spoke volumes to the redhaired woman sitting beside her.
It was confirmation of what Carina had noticed in Burbank all those months ago. Her young friend was in love. She was stunned! Talk about Déjà vu…
Settling in her seat, she found herself looking back on her own past, back when she was Kirsten Falk, then a rising star of the NYPD, she finished her enlistment with the US Army, an escape from her unhappy beginnings, she had taken full advantage of the G.I. Bill to pursue a degree in Criminal Psychology, Kirsten's intelligence and stunning good looks had been used to maximum advantage by the young trailblazer back then, fresh out of the academy, she had displayed a level head and a coolness under fire combined with an unpredictability that soon had her noticed by Vice, she quickly honed her undercover skills there and with the crossover with drugs in that sphere, it wasn't long before Narcotics came knocking on her door.
Her captain had been a Godsend, he hadn't held her back despite the grumblings from more 'experienced' detectives, that was soon overturned by her success rate, it wasn't a surprise when the DEA were soon clamouring for the young woman's services. She was seconded to many joint operations and there she really began to spread her wings.
Her Swedish heritage and ability to speak multiple languages were quickly noticed, some international cases followed and there she was on an even bigger stage. On one operation that was later co-opted by the CIA, the mark had made enough of a nuisance of himself by co-operating with known terrorists, that termination was decided as a better option, there the young taskforce agent was to encounter one of her lifelong friends in the game, Zondra Rizzo, her assignment the disposal of the mark, terminate with extreme prejudice.
It was a different sort of agent that introduced herself to the fledgling Falk. Rizzo was extremely professional and brutally efficient, Falk had been seconded to assist Rizzo with any help that was required, in truth she was for the first time in her career reduced to the role of bystander, but she was intrigued by the aloof agent.
Rizzo had swept in and quickly asserted herself, within two days the mission was over, and a deadly message had been sent to the underworld, the US government would tolerate no such alignments between the two criminal factions.
In the aftermath, she and Rizzo had indulged in a little after mission stress release, a tentative friendship began, their paths would cross a few more times in the future, and it was at that point that Rizzo's mission report mentioning the prospective DEA agent began to be seen in more rarefied clandestine circles.
Back at the DEA, Carina Miller as she was now called was introduced to her new partner, the agent that had requested her on earlier joint NYPD/DEA cases, the brash Lloyd Slate, 8 years older than her, and her new agency's top agent, Slate had been impressed by the younger woman as she made her bones on the job.
The then Principal Assistant Administrator of the DEA Julius Seagram had agreed with Slate, on completion of her degree a formal offer was made, and she found herself fast tracked through Quantico to join her new partner.
The only sour note had occurred at the New York office, she'd gone in to get her new credentials and noticed a few of the other female agents giving her a 'look', she'd written it off as jealousy, Lloyd had told her she'd encounter such as his new partner. She was not unprepared, but surprised however when Carmen De Silva, Lloyd's previous partner followed her into the restrooms. Nervously, the two women stared at each other, De Silva was of Brazilian decent, it showed in her face and figure, she was in her early thirties, the strain of undercover life hadn't diminished her beauty, but concern was written all over her face.
"Look Falk, we're never going to be friends, I figure Lloyd already poisoned the well? But you should know, he's a player, he burns more partners than the cartels we fight against. He's gonna promise you the moon, just like he did Trish McGee and Olivia Newman and me and when you're done… Boom!" She made an explosion shape with her hands.
Falk had heard enough, spinning around to face the other woman directly, she snapped, "Yeah, I heard everything about you jealous bitches, it's hard enough out there in the field that we come back to this interoffice bullshit! Keep your opinions to yourself, has been!" She dropped her shoulder and started for the door as she pushed past the other woman De Silva made a last effort, grabbing her upper arm she locked eyes with her, "Just be careful, ok?" Falk had paused, there was sincerity in the other woman's voice, but the die was cast, with a snarl she wrenched her arm free and disappeared out the door without a backward glance.
Momentarily back in the present, Carina locked eyes with herself in the hotel bar mirror, she had been such an arrogant asshole back then, she grinned ruefully, still was she admitted to herself, she stole another glance at Walker who was still nursing her drink. Surprisingly she could feel an old ache in her heart. She turned inward again, the past held her in its claws, the memories coming faster now.
The first two years were a blur, her and Slate cut a swathe across the drug cartels, South America, Europe, the Far East, Africa. It was glorious, the missions intense, their after-mission celebrations even more so, they were the perfect DEA couple, predatory, their bond had been unbreakable, until the Hugo Sanchez mission. Bad intel never told them that Sanchez, a new player in the Bolivian underworld had hired an ex-intelligence officer from Castro's old regime in Cuba, Luis Ortega a former Colonel, had been on to them from the start, they were taken quietly and brought to an old, abandoned warehouse north of Sanchez's operations in Santa Cruz on a private estate of his. It had been her first experience of being tortured and even worse, watching her partner tortured in front of her.
Eventually they weren't even being asked for information, more to amuse Sanchez who turned up to watch, but that had been his last mistake, even battered, Falk still exuded a raw sexuality, the drugged-up boss let his ego take over and he fancied a little fun, he had her dragged to his chambers in the villa on the estate. She had swiftly taken the initiative by escaping her bonds and strangling the idiot with the belt off his own trousers as he fumbled around on top of her, grabbing his gold-plated Colt 45's she killed her way to Slate's side and got them both out with a couple of rounds in Ortega's head for good measure.
The psychological aftermath had been brutal, she questioned her place in the game, she had a stellar career, a partner she adored, she had just started her Masters, she began to see a life beyond her current situation and it was a normal one, in an office, planning instead of doing, a nice house, Lloyd and her with a rug rat or two, she was aware she was in her late twenties. She told Lloyd all of this over a night of spectacular love making once they'd healed up, he had smiled enigmatically and was gone the following morning.
A brief text told her he'd been called back to the New York office for a final debrief, she should rest, take the week, start making those plans she told him about. She laughed and giggled and trashed around naked in the big bed they'd shared the night before and did exactly that. She planned their life. She was happy. She loved him.
After a week of silence and no responses to her texts, she began to worry, had the powers that be blamed him for the mission failure? She hopped on a plane to New York herself and made her way to the DEA building in Chelsea. She hadn't been here since her inauguration, she had rushed into the building, heading straight for Seagram's office. She noticed a few strange looks as she made her way across the open office floor, heading for the corner suite she knew he occupied, his secretary Hilda Daley stood in front of the door like a gatekeeper. She barged past her like an icebreaker in the Artic Ocean, unstoppable, until she ended up in front of an astonished looking Seagram as he hurriedly ended a call.
"What the hell Falk? What's the meaning of this intrusion Hilda?" he angrily demanded.
"I'm sorry Mr. Seagram, I did try to tell her…"
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH LLOYD, SEAGRAM?!", blasted Falk. Her eyes blazing with anger and fear.
"You better take that tone out of your voice Agent if you still want to be working here in the next 5 minutes!" snapped back Seagram in an icy voice. He turned to Hilda who looked like the rabbit caught between two lions, wild eyed and trembling "That'll be all Hilda, I'll handle this from here".
"Sir", Daley curtly replied and with a last look at the two she left the office.
"Sit down Falk," She did. He looked at her for a moment, a strange mix of pity and concern crossed his face, and then she knew.
"He's gone."
"Yes, Falk, he turned up here last week, handed in this report and requested immediate reassignment to the Florida Office and a new partner." He handed her a folder, she hesitated for all of two seconds before she snatched it from his hands and began to read. It was damning. Slate crucified her for the mission failure, blaming her infatuation with him, oh he'd tried to keep things professional, but she'd become a liability, he recommended an office job pending re-evaluation. Seagram was talking but all she could hear was the blood roaring in her ears as her eyes watered. Her head swam.
She never felt the folder fall from her hands as she stood on shaky legs and left the office and the building. Two hours later she found herself bawling her eyes out in the rest room of a local bar in the Market area. There was a rap on the door of the toilet.
"Falk? Are you in there?" she recognised the voice; it was De Silva. The latch was popped with the edge of a credit card and the door swung open to reveal De Silva and Trish McGee. She turned her ruined face towards them, reddened eyes, streaks of mascara on her cheeks, she was expecting scorn, but they pulled her gently to her feet and cleaned her face.
"C'mon kiddo", said McGee, a blonde wisecracking Irish American from White Plains, "You ain't the first to fall for Blank Slate" Falk understood the meaning of the nickname, Lloyd had literally wiped her from his life like a teacher clearing a blackboard. No trace remaining. The three had swapped war stories and went from bar to bar, she had some guy in the restroom of one of them, it didn't make things better, some hours later she found herself on the Brooklyn Bridge with an open whiskey bottle in her hand staring at the water below.
"I thought you were smarter than that, Miller." She jumped at the sound of the voice, she recognised it too, seemed the worst day of her life kept throwing up surprises. She looked back over her shoulder to see Zondra Rizzo leaning against a bridge stanchion with folded arms, watching her with her usual detachment. She felt ashamed she'd been brought to this level.
Rizzo said nothing, they walked to a high-end sports model, and she found herself in the backroom of a small bodega just outside Little Italy, it was some Rizzo local connection. Rizzo had a bottle of Grappa brought to the table and dismissing the waiter, poured herself and Miller a couple of shots.
"Salute" she said and tapped Miller's glass. "Skal!", came back half-heartedly.
Rizzo shook her head, "So here's how this plays out Miller, Monday, you go in and Seagram finds you a desk somewhere and you get to dine out on your glory days for the rest of your career and that asshole goes on to further glory ... or … or you get back on the horse and show them he was riding your coat tails and that they want, no, they need Carina Miller out there fighting the good fight".
".. but...", Falk had started to say. Rizzo fired her glass at the wall, "BUT NOTHING Miller! Aww, did little Agent Miller get her feelings hurt? Hmm? Well too bad, That's the game Miller, you had ONE asshole, I got a whole agency of James Bond wannabes trying to get into my pants on a daily basis, you wanted the big leagues and now you got the entry fee!", She snarled.
Chastened, Miller was rendered mute as Rizzo went on, "Now, if you can stop feeling sorry for yourself, I have a proposition for you, my boss Graham is currently screaming for cash for a special project he's got going with the NSA, just learning that much nearly got me suspended. He's got a plan in mind for a push against the drug cartels and he's setting up a special team. I'm on it, so's the Ice Queen herself, Sarah fucking Ghost who Walks, Walker and some bimbette Amy Monroe, I've been asked to find somebody from the DEA, I came looking for Carina Wildcard Miller, not this simpering mess I see before me.!".
Carina started again," Look Zondra, I'm just not…". "No shit Miller, I got my own career to think of here, so I'm asking you, get back on the horse, give it six months, prove you're worthy, I'll show Graham you're worth a shot and the sky is the limit! BUT… it's on you." Rizzo finished. She sat back and watched Carina,
"Why the DEA Rizzo?" Rizzo, taking a new glass poured a shot, "Oversight, we may need to do some sneaking around domestically, with you on the team, Congress can blow smoke. Now, are you out or in?"
Of course, she was in, challenge excepted, on Monday she took a trip to the spa, put a colour in her hair and sashayed into Seagram's office like a femme fatale of old, seduction on legs, once he'd torn his eyes from the amount of flesh on view, she'd demanded a return to the field. He'd looked in her eyes and saw the fire and focus that had been missing from the previous week and inwardly smiled. Looks like he was going to owe Rizzo that expensive bottle of Glenfiddich after all.
He'd put her on the next flight to Rome, she departed his office like a victorious gladiator on a lap of honour of the Coliseum, De Silva, McGee and a few others practically cheered as she stalked across the floor, she hadn't been beaten! Slate had made a serious mistake.
Kirsten Falk was dead. Long live Carina Miller! She'd never be brought low by a man again, she swore.
The next five months went even better than her previous two years, she eschewed all male partners, she was on the prowl, and she was taking no prisoners, success was her middle name and she proved it mission after mission. Three months in and she was the de facto number one agent in the Agency, eyes began looking her way again, particularly at Langley.
True as her word, Rizzo gave the heads up and she was summoned to Seagram's office, and within the week was on her way for special training at the Farm, the legendary CIA training centre, there her eyes were opened to the arcane arts of the spy world. She realised she'd been a lucky amateur. The Farm set her straight. A month after that she was introduced to the new team and the missions began.
The next few years had been amazing, success after success, halfway through they even won the National Intelligence Medal for an op so classified the records were redacted and buried as well as the hundreds of millions of dollars in assets they took that made their way to the hungry coffers of Graham's special projects division.
Then Augusto Gaez and Gentle Hand…things had gone messy fast, the cohesion that seemed so easy at first for the team vanished, even the legendary powers of the Ice Queen couldn't slow the decline, targets disappeared, intel was wrong, an air of suspicion hung over the CATS as they were then known. Dumb name but great team, or at least it had been.
Even though they were CATS their respective agencies still reserved their rights to haul them out on separate agency missions as required, so when a call back to New York came for Miller, she made her goodbyes not knowing it was the last as a CATS member she'd ever make.
Landing at La Guardia she was whisked to Seagram's office, puzzled she'd entered. She could feel the vibe in the air, her first thought was a mission back with the others had gone south again, she steeled herself for bad news and bad news was what she got.
"Miller, there's no easy way to put this, but the CATS are done..."
"WHY!?" She felt foolish at her outburst, she took a deep breath; Seagram held his silence. She could see he was upset too, but not with her.
"What happened?", she asked softly. He sighed and stood up, he walked to his window looking out at the New York skyline.
"Rizzo was the mole; Walker laid a trap and Rizzo apparently sprung it. There was an Internal Investigations Unit inbound to the Condo to secure Rizzo as you left, and I had to beg Graham to tell me that much before he sent them in. Walker and Monroe are in the wind, Graham has already deflected as much of the blame our way as possible so unfortunately, you're tainted as a result, Miller. Damn the man!"
Seagram was furious, Graham, the Cardinal Richelieu of his era had shielded his precious agency and Walker his protegee from as much of the fall out as he could. Washington was fuming, heads would roll for this.
"But how boss? How are we accountable for an internal CIA leak?" Seagram turned and looked at her, "Because Miller, he's saying it was your fault too, you were too close to Rizzo and didn't pick up on her betrayal."
Carina had given a snort of derision at that, Seagram nodded. "My thoughts exactly, but it's Walker, she's the lynchpin, anyone else but Graham's golden girl with her accusations and we could have weathered the storm…. we're tainted by association. Best thing I can do now is get you back in the field, it's not the glorious finish I'd hoped for all of us, a promotion had been in the offing Carina, but not now, it's set you back no mistake. But look, do the work..."
"Again…," said Miller sullenly. He nodded slowly, "Yes… again Carina and you'll be back in the good graces. And listen, no contact with any of them, especially Rizzo, she's toxic now. Understand?"
Oh hell, she thought, I can't even talk to my friend. She knew it was bullshit. Rizzo a traitor? Pigs would sooner fly she thought. She left the office; Seagram gave her the week off. She'd dashed to the bodega in Little Italy, scribbled a note for Rizzo. It was all she could do, she felt sick.
A month later back at the office a takeout order arrived from the same bodega that she never ordered, under the wrapping was a one-word reply. THANKS. It was Rizzo. The ways and means of spies, she mused.
A year later she was working a mission in Cabo, Mexico when her spy senses started pinging, as she sat by a pool bar, she had the feeling she was being checked out. Moments later a dark-haired Langley pretty boy plopped down on a stool next to her, he smiled and leaned over, "A mutual friend wants to talk, Agent Miller, let's keep it friendly, ok?". His face took on a pained look and he looked down.
She uncocked the gun she had stuck in his groin and put her other hand on his face, she leaned in, anyone looking at it would have thought it a loving caress, a holiday moment between a beautiful woman and her handsome lover, those closer though might have noticed the white knuckles on her fingers straining as she applied painful force to some nerve endings. She started to sneer a reply when a long-haired brunette sat down on the far side of pretty boy, and looking possessively over her sunglasses at her were the icy blue eyes of one Sarah Walker!
"Well, well, well, would you look at what the cats dragged in…" She'd angrily snapped.
The scene was fraught with tension, there was an angry exchange on both sides back at a safehouse, not to mention a bruising and bloody 'training session' the following morning.
It was probably one of the few times Carina actually came close to handing Walker her head. As they both sank to the floor in the makeshift ring, they managed to patch things and each other up. Somewhat. They agreed to disagree on the matter of Rizzo, but they were professionals, they had been friends, it was going to take time…
Some drinking afterwards and a discussion about Walker's new partner Larkin, left Carina concerned, she saw herself and Slate again, but she didn't interfere, not even when she saw him eye her up! Instead, she gritted her teeth, and she made a promise that if he hurt Sarah, she'd kick his ass. They parted. She worried. She nearly did a jig for joy when the news filtered through that Larkin was KIA and had been a possible traitor. She hadn't liked or trusted him. She hoped Walker was fine, then Burbank, Peyman and the diamond mission.
And now this… she returned to the present. She looked at Walker again, waiting…
There was a huff, Sarah turned to face Carina, then back to the bar and then back again, Miller grabbed her arm, holding her steady as she tried to make eye contact.
"What the hell Walker? Tell me it's not the cardinal rule, tell me you haven't breached that wall!"
"Please Carina, you don't understand, he's relentless, and … and …NICE!", she said the last word like it was the worst thing in the world. "He sees me, all of me and he wants it all Carina and I'm so tired of fighting!"
Carina was aghast, something long buried had surfaced in her friend and Miller was powerless to prevent its effects. Not that she hadn't tried. She tried to bed the geek herself, but the pure hearted idiot had already declared himself, she may as well have been throwing pearls before swine. He adored Sarah, and she apparently adored him, no wonder she was a mess!
"You have to get reassigned Walker, you're wigging out and you're gonna get the two of you dead, Casey I'm not so sure about, that big lug could probably survive Armageddon!"
Walker laughed at that. But the smile soon turned to a frown again. "What am I going to do Carina? Beckman will pull a 49-B on me if I admit …"
"Admit that you care? Oh Sarah, what did Montgomery teach us over and over again? Spies don't fall in love!"
"Roan?", laughed Walker sourly, "he tried to teach Chuck to seduce me! He was even using that old chestnut "The Montgomery!". Sarah facepalmed.
Miller laughed, "Let me guess…the white dinner jacket, single red rose and a decent bottle of … waitaminute! Roan met Chuckles?"
"It was a mission, Chuck had to seduce an enemy agent, Montgomery wanted to see him in action..."
"AND?", came from a now totally absorbed Carina.
"Well, he certainly knows how to kiss a girl…" Her eyes glazed over at the memory; she bit her lower lip.
Wide-eyed, Carina stared in shock. "Dear Lord, the Ice Queen is Ice Cream…." She leered and leaned in conspiringly, "Tell me, did he get to lick the …" Walker slammed a hand over her friend's mouth.
"Carina!... and no, we can't…" she added sadly. "Why the hell not?", asked Miller, "just bang the guy and move on, you're an agent, he's your analyst…" Walker's face dropped at that, she tried to regain her composure, but it was too late, she saw a horrified comprehension dawning on her friend's face.
"…he's an asset...?", came from a shaken Carina, "How the hell…? ", she gasped. "Carina, it's need to know and trust me you don't want to." Sarah warned.
Everything made sense now, Carina thought. The protectiveness, the possessiveness, Casey there as back up. Burbank was an operation!
She turned to her friend and put a supportive arm around the younger woman's shoulder, it was a mess. "I'm going to write Roan a nasty letter, some seduction expert! He never taught us how to handle a good man". Walker giggled at that, "No, I guess he never thought we'd meet any…".
"What are you going to do Sarah? You can't carry on like this." She made a vague gesture in the air. "It didn't work out for me, so I resigned myself to this life and my career, I thought that was what we all wanted back in the old days, you, most of all."
Sarah thought that might have been true once, but times had changed, she had changed, and it was down to a certain nerd. She sighed. "I'm going to fix this Carina, if I call, can I count on your help?".
Carina Miller knew exactly what that meant. "Of course, friends, right?" Sarah smiled, "Friends". They toasted each other. "Now, if the drama is over, I'd like to enjoy the next few days with an old friend relaxing, starting with my young German admirer over there …" She flashed a smouldering look at the young man in question she'd noticed him earlier.
He met her gaze and smiled back at the ravishing agent. "He said his name is Hans… let's see if he lives up to it..." Carina purred as she slid off the stool, sashaying towards him.
Sarah Walker shook her head. Carina would never change, but she was glad of her friendship. She thought she was going to need it. She was right, but not in the way she had intended…