A/N1: Maybe ownership of Chuck is on some random hard drive in a backroom someplace.
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As they stepped out of the building into the sunshine, both Sarah and Chuck had an immediate and similar feeling. They were being watched. They glanced at each other, communicating without words, but suddenly on higher alert.
From her peripheral vision, Sarah saw a man leaning against the outside wall near the exit to the street, only about ten to fifteen meters away. The man pushed himself off the wall and began to walk their way. Both Chuck and Sarah began to tense up.
Before they were able to do anything concrete to react to the man's approach, he sang, "Aqualung, my friend, don't start away uneasy. You poor old sod, don't you see? It's only me."
Chuck and Sarah stopped in their tracks and smiled at each other, then at the man. Turning to the approaching man, Chuck said, "Hello, Syd."
"'Ey, matey. 'Ey, Sarah. 'Ow's your luck?"
"Now that you're here, better I think," said Chuck with a grin.
Sarah leaned forward and gave Sydney Reilly, MI-6 agent, a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. They hadn't seen him since Bryce's rescue in London in April. He looked the same. Sandy hair, small and lean, tight with muscle, an insouciant grin and a sparkle of humor in his eyes. He was wearing light linen slacks and dark blue buttoned tropical cotton shirt untucked from the slacks. As Sarah gave him the hug, she felt his weapon holstered in the small of his back.
"What are you doing here, Syd?"
"Well, when your boss called Sir Trevor to give 'im the 'eads up that you were coming to our backyard, I was in Cuba finishing up a job. Sir Trevor told me to 'op to it and come lend a 'and to his favorite almost-married spies. Said I might learn a thing or two. 'E was kidding about that part. At least I think 'e was kidding," said Syd with a wry grin.
"Happy to have you along for the ride," said Chuck with a grin. "How'd you find us?"
"Graham told Sir Trevor the name of the dead bank. I just sat in my car over there and waited for you to show up to talk to the landlord," said Syd. "It's where I would of started."
"Tell you what, Syd, how about you take our numbers? Next time, you can just call us," said Sarah.
Reilly laughed and said, "Oh, come on. That's too easy. What kind of a spy does something simple like that?"
They all laughed.
"So, what's next? 'Ow'd you do inside?" Syd asked.
"Got the name and address of the outfit that bought the equipment when the bank shut down. Thought we'd go see them next. See if we can get ahold of the old computers from the bank."
"Right, then. Shall we?" asked Syd, gesturing to his car, a small Toyota.
"Sure," said Sarah.
They climbed in, Sarah behind Syd, allowing Chuck to move the passenger seat back to accommodate his long legs. Chuck gave Syd the street address of the business they were heading to. Syd put it into the car's GPS and began to drive when the nice GPS lady began to talk to them. Chuck sat with his arm out the window enjoying the breeze on the warm sunny day.
"Company car?" asked Chuck.
"Well, government car at least. My lot doesn't 'ave an office 'ere. UK territory after all. But my cousins at MI-5 do. I touched base with them and they lent me the car. Seem like a decent bunch of blokes, but no one I know. Or at least no one I knew before last night," he said. "Anyway, enough about business. I 'eard you 'ad a nice stag party, Chuck. Very civilized. Steak and booze. Cole had a blast and said you 'ad some pretty good lads there."
"Yeah. It was fun. Just what I needed," said Chuck with a smile, looking at his English friend. "You know I'm not going to be one for strippers and whatnot. Just not my style."
"Alright, I guess. But, you know, Chuck, some of those strippers are pretty wonderful," said Syd with a chuckle.
"Watch it, Syd," said Sarah laughing. "I can kill you in over a hundred ways from right here in the back seat."
"Blimey, I didn't even think about that. Never mind, Chuck. Strippers are universally awful," said Syd with a laugh.
"Much better, Reilly," said Sarah, smiling.
"Yes, Ma'am," said Syd.
"So how are you, my friend. Any news from London?" asked Chuck.
"You're fishing to 'ear about Alice aren't you?" asked Syd, glancing away from the road with his trademark grin.
"Well, we liked her, but it seemed kind of weird to come right out and ask you about your ex-wife," said Chuck.
"She's good. We've met up a few times over the summer. It's sort of turning into a friends with benefits kind of thing, I guess. Not what I would 'ave predicted, to be 'onest" he said, shaking his head.
"When you see her, tell her we said hi. She was a pretty impressive lady," said Sarah.
"I will," said Syd.
They arrived at the location for Cayman Office Equipment and parked the car. The building was one story and housed three businesses. On three sides was tropical vegetation and at the front was a small parking lot. The name of the business was displayed on a sign above the door.
Syd decided to stay with the car, so as not to cramp their style. Chuck and Sarah entered and were immediately struck by the cool of the AC. The interior seemed dark, but only in comparison to the bright sunshine outside.
A black man about Chuck and Sarah's age sat at a computer behind a long counter and stood up to greet them when they entered. Past the front area of the business was a large room with racks of computers and other equipment visible through the door and lit by low wattage fluorescent lights.
"Good morning. How can I help you?" he asked, with a pleasant smile.
"Good morning," said Sarah. "My name is Sarah Walker and this is Charles Carmichael. We were told that you are the business that bought the old equipment when the First Bank of the Caribbean Sea closed its doors."
"Yes, we did. We have a complete inventory of lightly used equipment, from that bank and other businesses that no longer have a need for it. What are you looking for?"
"What kind of equipment do you purchase?" asked Chuck.
"All kinds. Computers, printers, copiers, desks, filing systems. Whatever businesses need to operate," the man said. "We've got it here for you." He deployed a high wattage salesman's smile.
"So, if we wanted to purchase from you the computers that you..." Sarah started.
"And printers," interrupted Chuck.
"Right. Computers and printers that you purchased from the bank, you have those available?" asked Sarah.
"Well," said the man, hesitating, "Not really. I mean yes, we might have some left, but we don't keep our inventory that way. The equipment is sorted by type and the various models. There's no record of which computer, say, came from which business."
Chuck and Sarah glanced at each other.
"Damn," murmured Chuck. "Do you scrub the hard drives clean when you get the computers?"
"No, we clean them before we sell them again. If it ends up never getting sold, cleaning the hard drive is just a waste of time," the man said.
"How about the drives on the printers?" Chuck asked.
"No, we don't bother to do that at all."
"But as you keep your inventory, there's no way to tell which equipment is from the bank?"
"I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm sure we have some of them, but I just can't tell you which ones," he said.
"How many computers do you have total?" asked Sarah.
"Um, one second." The man turned to his computer and pushed a button or two. "One hundred twenty-three."
"And printers?" asked Chuck.
"Forty-seven," the man said looking at the screen.
"Copiers?" asked Sarah, knowing they worked with hard drives as well.
"Um, only seven. Most printers now double as copiers and scanners."
"And there's no way to tell which of those machines came from the bank?" asked Chuck again.
"I'm afraid not," said the man.
"Alright," said Chuck. "How much to buy them all?"
"What?" the man asked, shocked.
"Yeah. All of them. The whole lot," said Chuck.
The man didn't know whether to be amazed or delighted. He ended up with a bit of both. "Um, thirty thousand pounds."
Chuck looked at him silently with a raised eyebrow. "Um, ok. Um. Twenty-five thousand," the man said, maybe a bit embarrassed by the first number he'd thrown out.
Chuck smiled and said, "Twenty-three."
The man got a huge grin and said, "It's a deal." He and Chuck shook hands.
Chuck turned to Sarah and said, "Sweetie, can you talk to Syd while I finish up with Mr..."
"Hogan," said the man.
"With Mr. Hogan. Perhaps Syd's friends can find us a place to work with these machines. I don't look forward to trying to fit them into the hotel suite."
"Sure. Be right back," Sarah said, walking out to confer with Syd.
Chuck was just finishing the paperwork with Hogan when Sarah came back. "Mr. Hogan, we'll have three men and a truck here in about an hour and a half. They can take the equipment from you."
"But I won't have time to clean the drives for you," he said. "If you come back in a couple of days, I can take care of it for you."
"Not an issue, Mr. Hogan. We'll take care of that ourselves when we pick them up," said Chuck. He signed the credit card slip and shook hands with the man.
"It's been a pleasure," he said.
By this point, Hogan was grinning from ear to ear. He'd made a huge, huge sale. In one transaction, he'd made his profit for the entire year. When the men came to take the sold equipment, he'd close up shop afterwards and take the day off. Take his family out to dinner to celebrate, maybe.
"Thank you so much, Mr. Carmichael, Ms. Walker. Happy to do business with you any time."
Chuck and Sarah went out into the heat of the noonday sun and came to Syd's car. He was leaning against the hood, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, but his expression typical for him. Amused pleasure.
"All set?" he asked.
"All set. Your friends will pick it up and we can get started," said Chuck.
"Good. Then it's lunch time," he said with a grin.
They drove to the Lobster Pot, a small restaurant in a powder blue building overlooking the tranquil water closer to the city. There was a large deck in the back with tables and chairs. It was slightly early for lunch, so they were the first customers of the day. There were a couple of well-worn fishing boats tied up to a jetty off to one side of the beach area, which was composed of hard, dark sand. This was a working area of town, not a touristy neighborhood. Chuck appreciated that, hoping to get a good meal without paying tourist prices.
Syd led them into the restaurant and got them a table outside. While the tropical sun was hot, the breeze by the water was cooling and smelled of the sea. High cotton ball clouds were the only things visible in the blue sky reflecting off the turquoise water of the harbor. Chuck graciously took the seat with his back to the view, so his lovely fiancé could appreciate it. Once they sat down, Sarah and Chuck reached for and took each other's hands without either of them consciously thinking about it. It was an almost automatic gesture that comforted them both.
After the waiter had taken drink orders, white wine for Sarah and the local Caybrew beer for Syd and Chuck, Syd said, "So the MI-5 guys 'ave a decent facility we can use. It's a big space and, even better, it's air-conditioned."
"Well, that's good at least. It's going to take Sarah and me a pretty long time to go through all of the hard drives. I'd hate to be sitting in the tropical heat to do it," said Chuck.
"What do you mean Sarah and you? You don't think your cousins get to join the fun?" asked Syd.
"Oh, thanks, Syd. We sure would appreciate your help. An extra pair of hands would be great," said Sarah.
"No, Sarah. I don't mean just me. Although I'm worth ten all by myself. No, there are five agents from the Box 'ere on the island, mostly keeping track of the Cubans. We'll pull them all in. Many 'ands make light work after all."
"Oh, that would be great. Thanks," said Sarah.
Their drinks arrived and they ordered lunch, each of them choosing seafood of some kind. That done, they toasted. Clicking glasses, Chuck said, "To new days."
"To new days," Sarah and Syd echoed.
Taking a drink of his beer, Syd asked, "Think you'll get any time to relax on the island? I mean other than right now."
Wrinkling his lips into a bit of a rueful smile, Chuck said, "Pretty unlikely, dude. I think the hunt through the hard drives is going to keep us pretty busy and take up a lot of time. We're really looking for a needle in a haystack. And not just us. Casey and another member of our team are up in St. Louis looking into another aspect of this thing. We're hoping among all of us we can come up with some good leads."
"Makes sense. Too bad though. Nice island 'ere and some great diving to be 'ad, if you're into that," he said.
"Yeah. That's what we've heard," said Sarah, giving Chuck's hand a squeeze.
"Excuse me a second. 'Ave to visit the gents," said Syd, leaving the table and heading inside the restaurant. Chuck and Sarah were left alone on the back deck.
"He's right. It is a beautiful island," Sarah said, leaning forward to kiss her soon-to-be husband.
"Should we practice for the honeymoon?" asked Chuck, leaning in to meet her lips halfway.
His eyes flicked over her shoulder and he reacted instantly. Three men were coming through the restaurant at them with guns drawn, eyes locked on Chuck and Sarah.
Chuck, still holding Sarah's hand pulled her towards him out of her chair. At the same time, he threw himself backwards bringing Sarah with him and kicked over the heavy table they had been sitting at. By the time his back hit the deck, he had his trank pistol out and had fired at each of the three men, hitting each man in the face. He didn't know if they were wearing bulletproof vests and couldn't take the chance.
In the blink of an eye, they switched into spy mode. Sarah had been trained for this, but over a year in the life had had its effect on Chuck.
As the men collapsed, Sarah had her weapon in her hand and her eyes had swiveled to the threat. Behind the fallen men, she saw more men crowding through the door to the building, all with guns drawn. She also saw that they had no real cover where they were.
"Move," she ordered Chuck, gesturing towards the water with her chin. There was no place to run to from the deck, but the railing enclosing it was formed by two planks held by uprights posts. Chuck and Sarah rolled under the bottom plank and fell together to the hard sand below. Immediately, they rolled the opposite way under the deck, concealing themselves from the men above.
They heard the shouts and footfalls of the attackers over their heads and knew it was only going to be a moment until they began to fire through the floor of the wooden deck, trying to hit their quarry by random chance. Chuck and Sarah moved back to the edge of the building and put their backs to it. Sarah fired twice through the deck over her head and was rewarded with a scream and the sound of a collapsing body. The expected return fire didn't come close.
Sarah whispered to him to look to his left and she'd look to the right. Chuck headed to that corner of the building, his back against the bare cinderblock wall.
Only a moment later Sarah saw a gun hand begin to come around the edge of the building. She grabbed the man's hand and pulled him forward, then stepped into him, kneeing him in the groin and smashing his nose with her forehead. Using his body as a shield, she fired over his shoulder and the three men behind him, killing them. One of them fired at her and only succeeded in killing his teammate held in front of her.
On the other side, Chuck was right up at the corner and heard the soft crunch of footsteps on sand. He didn't want to wait for the men to get into position to attack around the corner.
Suddenly, they all heard gunfire from above. Hoping it would give him some kind of distraction, he poked his head around the corner to see two attackers paused and listening to the fighting above, their eyes turned in that direction. Instantly, Chuck shot each man in the leg with a trank dart.
He hurried across the width of the building back to Sarah, who had just disposed of the men on her side, but kept his eyes to the left side.
Another five men were climbing out of two more cars on the street. From the front of the building, up on the front porch area, came a loud whistle. When the new wave of attackers looked up at the sound of the whistle, five shots rang out and the five reinforcements fell dead.
Sydney Reilly's voice called out, "Clear."
Sarah called out, "Clear."
Sarah and Chuck looked up to the front porch of the building and Syd's head came around the corner. He summed up everyone's feelings when he said, "Bloody 'ell."
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A/N2: For those who don't remember, the Box is a nickname for MI-5.
A/N3: Team B's investigations seem to be interrupted by Fulcrum assassination teams, both in St. Louis and on Grand Cayman. Good thing the good guys are tougher and smarter than the bad guys. Oh, and that the bad guys shoot like Imperial Stormtroopers. That helps too. Let me know what you guys think, if you don't mind. See ya next week.