A/N1: I suppose someone owns Chuck. Be cool if it were one of us, but I know it's not.
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"Aw, shit," said Chuck.
"Yeah," agreed Sarah, on his arm. "It was for six. It's not even six thirty. We're not really that late."
"Popular guy," he murmured.
"Yeah," she agreed. "Guess so."
The line at the Campbell Funeral Home was already out the door when they arrived. After confirming that the people were waiting online to pay their respects to Peralta (and not someone else), Chuck and Sarah got on the back of the line. They stood respectfully, holding hands the entire time. By the time they had made their way inside to the sign-in book, the line had grown to extend down the block.
On a lark, Sarah filled in their names on the book's page as Mr. & Mrs. Charles Bartowski. It made her smile to herself. A little premature, sure, but by the time Daphne got around to reading the entry it would be true. Mrs. Bartowski. She stifled a grin. This was not the time and place for her to be happy, but the truth was the rapidly approaching wedding, while also freaking her out, made her very, very happy.
The room was decorated like every funeral home they'd ever seen. Bland colors and grandma furniture. Nothing to draw attention and nothing to offend. Furniture selected to be essentially invisible. It was crowded and warm. They removed their overcoats and carried them on their arms. Slowly they made their way to the front. Understandably, there was a closed coffin. Daphne was near the front of the room talking to a knot of people. When she saw them she broke off the conversation and turned their way.
"Thank you so much for coming, Sarah, Chuck. It means a lot to me," she said, leaning in to give them each a quick hug.
"Of course," said Sarah. "You're our friend, Daphne. Ellie and Devon send their condolences, but had to work tonight. We are all so very sorry for your loss. We read about Vinnie in the paper. He was a real hero."
Daphne's face hardened for a moment and she said, "Yeah. He was. I did my best to get him to take a safer job. And yet here we are..."
She was pulled away from them by an older woman sobbing and crying at the loss. Daphne gave them an apologetic look and left them to deal with the woman. There were a long line of similar mourners waiting to talk to the widow, so Chuck and Sarah backed off.
They had both been to memorial services where the grieving family was pulled in a thousand directions and they didn't intend push for Daphne's attention. She'd seen them and heard their words of condolence. If they didn't get to talk with her again that evening, it would have to be enough.
Sarah said, gesturing off to the side, "Hey, look. It's Alan and Luke."
They headed over to the policemen, standing by themselves along one wall, calmly watching the crowd. They were appropriately dressed in their normal business suits and ties, looking like tidy young Wall Street executives (albeit very fit executives).
"Hey, fellas," said Chuck. "How's it going?"
There were handshakes and cheek kisses exchanged before Booker answered, "It's going. Mrs. Peralta asked us to stop by to see if the killer came to pay his or her respects."
"Like the movies," said Chuck.
"Exactly," said Chen. "And not to be a pest, but did you get our text from this morning?"
"Shit. Sorry I thought I responded. Yeah. Come to CI in the morning. Ask for Rachel Bernstein. She's got you covered," said Chuck.
"Perfect. Thanks so much," said Chen.
"Anything for our favorite LAPD homicide cops," said Sarah, with a small smile at the men.
"Wait," said Booker, "do you mean you have other favorite homicide cops from other cities? Cause I'm on the verge of getting jealous."
Both Chuck and Sarah laughed quietly, and Sarah said, "I misspoke, Alan. You guys are our favorite homicide cops from anywhere."
"Wait a second, do you have cops you like better who aren't in homicide? Like robbery or vice?" asked Chen, laughing quietly.
Chuck said, "Now you're pushing your luck, dude." They began to laugh, but, given the venue, not too loudly.
"Ok, but I just want you to know that you are the favorite super-spies we know," said Booker.
"We're the only super-spies you know," said Chuck.
Chen laughed and said, "Yeah. Caught us out on that one, dude."
"How's the investigation going?" asked Sarah, turning serious.
"Every time we turn over a rock, we get two more leads. It's crazy," said Booker. "This guy had a shitload of enemies or potential enemies. Thank God, we have help in looking into it all. Our boss worked out some others to help us."
"Thank goodness," said Sarah.
"How's Mrs. Peralta handling it?" asked Booker.
"So far as we can tell, ok. But we haven't been involved with her too much the last couple of days. She's asking her assistant Sadie to take care of a lot right now," said Sarah.
"Well, it's hard to blame her," said Chuck.
"Yeah," agreed Sarah. Suddenly, she froze watching the door. Chuck, who'd been looking at Booker sensed her sudden tension and looked where she was looking. Two large men were coming into the room. Under their open suit jackets, both men were armed.
Shit.
Instantly both Chuck and Sarah were preparing for potential trouble.
Booker and Chen took a few moments to realize what was happening, but when they did, Booker said, "It's ok, guys. Those guys are cops. I recognize them. They are the Mayor's security detail."
Both of the security men looked over the room and their eyes immediately caught those of the detectives. All four men nodded to each other.
It took only a few moments for the mayor to enter, quietly greeting those in the crowd that reached out to him, but otherwise not extending himself. Mayor Antonio Villariagosa was doing his best to not upstage anyone or anything at the memorial. It was a classy performance, thought both Chuck and Sarah. He stopped before the closed coffin silently for a few moments and then turned to find the widow.
While he was there, still keeping an eye on their protectee, the two bodyguards came over to Booker and Chen.
"Hey," said the larger man (and they were both really, really large).
"Hey," said Chen. "Want you to meet our friends. Chuck Bartowski and Sarah Walker."
Handshakes and introductions were exchanged. One of the Mayor's bodyguards said, carefully, "Don't recognize you guys. What agency you with?"
"We have a computer security company," said Sarah.
"And you guys pulled carry permits as part of that work?" the other bodyguard asked. His demeanor wasn't hostile, but it was certainly cautious. Booker and Chen introducing them as friends was meaningful, but didn't clinch the deal in their minds.
Of course, just as Chuck and Sarah had immediately spotted the telltale bulges under their coat jackets, the Mayor's bodyguards had seen the same with Chuck and Sarah. The spies knew they would have to explain being armed, but didn't want to announce their affiliation in a crowd of people.
Before Chuck and Sarah could answer, to take them off the hook, Booker said to the other policemen, "The name of their computer company is Carmichael Industries."
"Huhn," said the first man, his eyes widening in surprise. He looked at Booker, who nodded his head just a tiny bit. After a moment or two the man's face broke into a huge grin. "No kidding. Pleased to meet you guys. Very pleased."
"Yeah," agreed his grinning partner. "A real pleasure. You're friends, huh?" the second man said to Booker and Chen.
"Yup," said Chen, looking very pleased with himself.
One of the bodyguards was keeping an eye on the mayor and caught a signal. "Be right back. I gotta rescue the boss."
He moved across the crowded room and extracted the Mayor from a conversation with a constituent that he didn't particularly want to talk to. As the two men moved back across the room to the others, his bodyguard spoke into the Mayor's ear in a whisper. At one point, the Mayor stopped dead and turned to look at the man with amazement, but, getting a nod, he schooled his face and continued across the room.
When they arrived at the others, Mayor Villariagosa said to them, "Evening, fellas. I hear you are the guys looking into Vinnie Peralta's murder."
"Yes, Sir. We are," said Booker.
"It's in good hands. My friends tell me you guys are rising stars," said the Mayor.
"I don't know about that, Sir," said Chen. "We'll do our best."
"I expect no less. Thank you, guys," he said. Turning to Chuck and Sarah, "I also hear you guys run Carmichael Industries. How you doing? I'm ..."
"Yes, Sir. We recognized you." She gave him a smile that would disarm a battle-hardened commando, and repeated, with a laugh, "I guess no surprise, but we did recognize you, Sir."
"Well, I guess that's good. I'll have to congratulate my publicist," he said with a laugh.
"Tony Villariagosa," he said, with his hand extended.
"Chuck Bartowski," said Chuck, shaking the Mayor's hand.
"Sarah Walker, soon-to-be Bartowski," she said, shaking the Mayor's hand.
"Soon-to-be?" He smiled at her. "Congratulations and good luck. I predict some great things ahead for you both. You and your fiancée have a pretty solid reputation with respect to...computer security. Rumor has it that you have done some extraordinary work in that regard. On behalf of the people of this City, I thank you both from the bottom of my heart." The Mayor placed his folded palms over his heart as he said that, looking sincere.
Chuck said, "We are happy to help where we can, Sir."
"I understand. Possible to get your cards, maybe? Perhaps we can have lunch sometime and explore the extent to which Carmichael Industries can help the city further. Maybe we can be a client."
"That would be wonderful, Sir," said Chuck, handing over his and Sarah's business cards.
"We would love to have lunch with you, Sir. We get married in a few days and then are taking a honeymoon for the month of January. Perhaps we can arrange a lunch in February or March?"
"That would be just terrific, Ms. Walker," said the Mayor. "I'll have one of my assistants give you a call."
"Thank you, Sir. Looking forward to it," she said.
With a pleasant nod, Villariagosa and his bodyguards walked away. They made their way out of the room slowly and gently, with the occasional pause as someone recognized him and said a few words.
"How'd that happen?" asked Chuck.
"We're sort of famous, in a completely non-famous way," said Sarah
"Well, damn. Guess we have to have lunch with him," Chuck said, smiling and shaking his head.
Booker said, "If you want to miss it, just let us know and we'll go in your place."
"Speak for yourself," said Chen. "I have no interest in that."
"Are you kidding? You're the biggest suck-up on the planet," said Booker.
"Only if I really respect the person I'm sucking up to. I won't do it for a plain old politician."
"He's the Mayor, for chrissakes," said Booker.
Chen looked off to the side and said to Booker, "Hey, look. Deppard and I guess his wife."
"Yeah, with Rusty and his wife behind him," responded Booker. As they watched a stream of people from the newspaper came into the room. "I'll bet tomorrow's paper has gone to press and released the newsroom from their desks."
Sarah said, "The editor?"
"Yeah. The guy with the yellow tie," said Booker. "You know him?"
"Friend of a friend. I think I'll go over and say hi," she said.
She made her way over to Deppard and caught him after he's said a few words to Daphne and she'd turned to the next mourner.
"Mr. Deppard?" she asked.
"Yes," he responded with a polite smile.
"Hi. My name is Sarah Walker. I'm a friend of Zondra Rizzo."
"How do you do?" he reached out to shake her hand. "Please call me Frank. I hope she knows I'm a big fan of hers."
Deppard was the newspaper man they had reached out to in order to gain some attention to the rampant sexual assault going on in Hollywood. While trying to keep below the radar, the ladies running Castle Studios had been doing their best to draw some attention to the issue. It had been a slow burn. No victims had been prepared to be named on the record. And Deppard's paper wouldn't publish such serious allegations based on anonymous sources.
"Can't speak to that, but she's certainly proud of the work you have been doing together," Sarah said.
"I hope so. But our work hasn't come to fruition yet. Soon, but not yet," he said.
"Soon? I hope so. I admit to some impatience," Sarah said. "It's been a while since she approached you."
"Ms. Walker, I have two top notch reporters on this. Convincing people to speak on the record is an impediment. Things are happening behind the scenes. We have an idea in mind. Can't tell you if it will work or not, but I ask you to be patient for a few weeks. I really hope you won't be disappointed," said Deppard.
"A few weeks? Really?" she asked.
"Yes. Something is coming. You'll see," he said.
"Thank you, Mr. Deppard. I agree. I hope I won't be disappointed," she said politely. "Thank you for your time and I'm sorry for the loss of your colleague."
"Thank you," he said.
She turned and walked back to Chuck.
Chuck and Sarah chatted with the detectives for a while longer. A priest came and said a few prayers. After a bit, the crowd began to leave, Chuck and Sarah among them.
They headed out to dinner at Jackie's, hoping to see Morgan. As it turned out, not only was Morgan there, but Eileen and Casey were there as well. A bit later, Colt and his men showed up and they all ended up having a nice night.
Booker and Chen didn't leave the memorial until most of the visitors had departed. Walking across the street to Chen's car, neither of them noticed the solitary bulky figure in the shadows down the block watching the door to the funeral home, as if waiting for something or someone.
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The next morning.
"Good morning," said Booker to the receptionist. "It's so good to see you again, Brittany. How have you been?"
She answered, "Better now that you've visiting, Detective." She gave him a bright smile.
Chen stepped in and said, "Hi. We'd like to speak to Ms. Bernstein."
"Of course, Detective," she said, reaching for her phone. "One moment."
A couple of minutes later, a small curly haired, pretty woman came from the back with a grin. "Hi, fellas. I don't want to presume, so I'll ask who's who."
"I'm Booker, he's Chen."
"Good to meet you guys. I'm Rachel. I work with Chuck and Sarah. Come with me, please." She led them into the nearby conference room and closed the door. There were two piles of paper on the table and she slid one pile in front of each man as they sat.
"The top page shows that as of this morning you have both been given Top Secret security clearances by the US Government. This clearance normally takes a few months. At our request the guys in DC did it in less than a day."
"Wow," murmured Chen, sort of blown away. "Pulling strings."
"Yeah," said Booker. "All we hoped for was a peak at the Robertson file. This is..."
Laughing, Rachel said, "Pulling strings? Naw. For Chuck and Sarah they are more like steel cables and they have more than enough strength here to pull really, really fucking hard. And it's not a compliment to you guys, it's an affirmation of their judgement. And it's a sign that Chuck and Sarah think very highly of you." She smiled at the men. "Welcome to the club, guys."
Stunned, they looked at the pile of paper in front of each of them with little sticky things on the side showing them where to sign. Rachel said, "Non-disclosure agreements. They are harsh and frightening, deliberately. Read them or don't read them, but sign them. And then never say anything ever again about what you know. Sorry."
Chen tried to read the first few and gave up. Booker just started signing. Where necessary, Rachel witnessed.
Once all the papers were signed, Rachel collected them in two packets which she left on the conference room table and said, "Ok, guys. Come with me. We're going to Oz."
She took them to the elevators and selected car one off to the side with its own call button. When it arrived and they got in, she put her hand on the palm print scanner and pressed a button. They descended and, when the doors opened, Booker and Chen were in Castle.
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A/N2: Ah, so that's who Booker was texting in the beginning of the last chapter. And no need to mention to Wallace that they had this particular connection with the Feds.
A/N3: Booker and Chen are now a little step closer to the spies. You can tell me if you think that's a good idea or not. Or tell me you don't care.