California Dreaming
3 JANUARY 2008
BURBANK BUY MORE
18:02 PST
"Oh, good, you got my text," Morgan said before Chuck had even cleared the double doors into the Buy More. "Walk with me."
Chuck blinked at him. He'd come straight from a day at the office—their first day back at the office in 2008, since Operation Prometheus was a government-run project and that thankfully meant holidays. It had been a long day of flashing and amassing intel; Casey had single-handedly taken down two suspected terrorists flying through LAX, and Sarah had led a team against a ship captain trafficking cocaine into L.A. through the Port of Los Angeles. Since both agents were still on their errands, Chuck was technically under orders to go straight to the Bachelor Pad, but he figured he couldn't get into too much trouble at the Buy More.
He figured wrong. Morgan had something cooking, if the agitated body language was anything to go by.
"Uh, okay," he said, falling into step beside his best friend. "What's up?"
They passed a green-shirt standing sentry over the hallway back to the break room. He exchanged nods with Morgan, and Chuck began to feel a little creeped out. "Buddy? Is something happening?"
"Happening? No. It happened, Chuck, and I am so, so sorry."
"Sorry for what, exactly?"
"For this, Chuck. For this," Morgan said, and pushed open the break room door.
Chuck peered around his friend with some trepidation, but nothing in the break room seemed worthy of an apology. "Uh, I don't get it."
"The Wall of Chuck, man! The Wall of Chuck!" Morgan pushed both hands through his hair and yanked so that his skin distended over his forehead in strange patterns. "Harry Tang's tyranny must be stopped!"
Chuck very carefully kept from showing any relief on his face as he took in the newly-blank wall at the back of the break room. It looked like the Wall of Chuck had been around long enough that he could see outlines—and in one case, a very clear outline of what had to have been the full-sized cardboard cutout of him in the green-shirt. "You don't need the Wall of, uh, Chuck anymore, Morgan," he pointed out in what he hoped was a very sensible voice. "You've got the real thing. Standing right here, even."
"Yeah, but you went away for nearly three weeks! I didn't know if you were coming back!"
Once again, Chuck had to keep his face very controlled. If Morgan knew just how close he had come to losing his best friend a second time, and this time permanently, there would be no end to the Wall of Chuck. It would possibly even grow.
It was simply better not to mention that.
"That's not the point, man," Morgan said.
"Er, then what is?"
"Harry Tang is a dictator and must be stopped! That's the point! God!" Morgan threw his hands into the air in frustration. "It's gone on too long!"
"You could just find another job," Chuck pointed out.
Immediately, Morgan swiveled on the spot. "Can I come work for you?"
Chuck winced. His official office, upon returning to Burbank, had been moved downstairs into Castle itself, though they kept the façade of a company upstairs. It was partly to make it easier for him to flash, as Sarah's old downstairs office was better equipped for that with the high-resolution monitors covering nearly an entire wall, and partially for his own protection. But even if there weren't a government base buried below the offices of Pacific Securities, LLC, Chuck imagined that Morgan wouldn't make a good fit working there. Casey would probably strangle him before the first coffee break.
"I'm sorry," he said, genuinely apologetic. "I'm barely making enough to pay Casey, let alone Sarah."
"Even with that huge business trip you just went on?"
"That huge business is the reason I'm making enough to afford Casey and Sarah," Chuck lied. They had told Morgan that Ellie and Awesome had gone to visit the Senior Awesomes, and Chuck, Sarah, and Casey had gone along to work in the same area for a prestigious client. The story had so many holes in it that Chuck was sure nobody would believe it, but Morgan had bought it hook, line, and sinker.
"Oh." Morgan sighed. "Too bad I burned all of my credit with Underpants, Etc. They might have hired me again."
"Morgan, the last time you tried to work there, you put boxers on the heads of all of the mannequins and you thought an outfit from 'Risky Business' was good work attire."
"Their company name is Underpants, Etc!"
Chuck hesitated. It was a valid point. "Maybe look somewhere else?" he offered.
"Yeah." Morgan seemed glum about his prospects, and Chuck didn't blame him. Even though the other man had been with the Buy More for years, there was very little chance of getting a positive reference from Tang the Tyrant.
Chuck clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll help you out."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Let's go pick up a pizza or something, and you can come back to the Bachelor Pad. We can work on your résumé."
"Awesome. Halo tournament after?"
"Don't push your luck," Chuck said, even though he knew it would come to that. They headed back out to the main part of the store.
"At least I've still got my deejay gig to keep me afloat," Morgan said as they headed outside and toward Chuck's car.
"It keeps you in grape soda and out of restraining orders?"
"More than that, my friend. Ellie's not my only client." Morgan pulled out his old Boba Fett wallet and carefully worked the Velcro free. After a moment of rifling through the stacks of membership cards, he produced a black business card with raised silver lettering. "Check it out. A friend of mine let me take the turntable down at Club Skiddz while you were gone, and somebody was so impressed he asked for my card. And I got a call a few days ago, asking if I'd deejay one of his events."
"Awesome!" Chuck turned the card over and frowned at the logo. "Uh, Morgan, you working for Hugh Hefner or something?"
"The Heff? No. Does that really look that much like the Playboy Bunny?" Morgan craned his neck to get a good look at the business card in Chuck's hand. "I think it's just a rabbit, dude. You really need to work on recognizing your branding."
Chuck didn't point out that he had spent five years away from society because it was Morgan, though he wanted to. Instead, he handed the card back to Morgan and made a "Hmm" noise in the back of his throat. It was another Sarah action, and he recognized it as such. Either she was picking up his mannerisms, or he was picking up hers, but it was a little strange to think about, given that they had only been dating, officially, for a couple of weeks.
Of course, they had been working together and spending quite a lot of time together before that, so it really wasn't all that strange.
"The gig's in a couple of weeks, man, you should come. I can get you in on the guest list." Morgan waggled his eyebrows. "You can bring your hot secretary."
"You mean my girlfriend?" Chuck asked, and had the pleasure of seeing Morgan's jaw drop. "And it's office manager, by the way."
"Wait a second, you're doing your secretary? Isn't that a little cliché?"
"One, it's office manager," Chuck said through his teeth. "Two, don't talk about her that way, and three, I don't think it's cliché."
Morgan was quiet for a moment as they finished walking out to Chuck's car. "I guess it wouldn't be cliché, not when she looks like—hey! Ow! What's with the hitting?"
Another one of Sarah's mannerisms he'd picked up, Chuck figured, but he still glared at his friend. "Did the part where I said girlfriend not get through?"
"Oh, right," Morgan said. "I guess that makes sense. Well, either way, congratulations. But don't hit me again. You know how easily I bruise, man."
"I know, Morgan. I know. I'm sorry. It won't happen again," Chuck said, and climbed into the driver's seat.
3 JANUARY 2008
BACHELOR PAD
21:37 PST
Chuck looked away from the TV when the front door of the Bachelor Pad opened, though Morgan kept his attention rapt on the screen. Morgan would watch his back in the game, Chuck knew. Still, his eyebrows lowered in confusion when it was Sarah that let herself into the Pad, not Casey.
"Ellie and Awesome wanted the apartment to themselves for awhile, so I cleared out," she said, easily reading his mind like she always did these days. She dropped next to Chuck on the couch and leaned around him to get a look at Morgan. "Hey, Morgan."
"Sarah, hey." Morgan flicked a glance at her and then at Chuck in quick succession.
Sarah raised an eyebrow at Chuck: he knows?
Chuck nodded.
"It's cute how you two do that," Morgan said, his attention focused on the screen.
"Do what?" Sarah and Chuck asked.
"The whole talking without talking thing. And it's also a little weird. It's like you two have been dating for months instead of weeks." Morgan fragged an enemy soldier, clicking his teeth together like he had with every kill going back as far as playing Super Mario Brothers together as kids. When he noticed the stares he was receiving, he cleared his throat. "Uh, how was your Christmas, Sarah?"
"It was good," Sarah said, her voice amused. "How was yours? And I'm told we have you to thank for those last-minute seats for the Nutcracker?"
Morgan squirmed. Chuck didn't blame him. He sometimes felt like doing the same when Sarah smiled at him. "Uh, yeah, I know a guy, that's all."
"Well, thank you, either way." It looked to Chuck like Sarah had deliberately increased the wattage of her smile. She threaded her arm through Chuck's.
Morgan glanced from the smile to the gesture and carefully set his controller on the arm of the couch. "Oh, right, I forgot I have to work early tomorrow, so I'd better—" He trailed off to fake a huge yawn. Chuck's eyebrows rose, but the shorter man was already headed for the door. "I'll see you around, Chuck, Sarah. Good night!"
"Night, buddy," Chuck called after him. When the door closed behind his friend, he turned to Sarah. "That has to be a record. I'm impressed. I hope that you're careful to use that power for good."
"I'm selective," Sarah said. She craned her neck to look around the apartment. "Where's Casey?"
"NRA chapter meeting, and then he'll probably go out for drinks with his Marine buddy afterward."
"Oh. Good." With that out of the way, Sarah leaned in and kissed him, slowly.
Chuck had to think that he was getting better at not letting his brain shut down on him when she did that, since she smiled at him when she broke the kiss. Still, the lingering worry he had experienced over the past two weeks popped up. He shoved it to the back of his mind as he always did, but something must have leaked through, as Sarah gave him a wary look. "What is it?" she asked.
"It's nothing. How was the drug bust?"
"Oh, you know, same old, same old."
"So," Chuck summarized, "he tried to get away, you chased after him and came down on him like the mighty hammer of Thor, and he ended up cuffed on the asphalt, crying like a little girl?"
"More or less. He didn't keep up with his cardio, so there wasn't much need to run."
"You're disappointed about that," Chuck said, squinting at her.
Sarah laughed. "A little. It's more fun when they run."
"You're a little bit of a psychopath, which somehow makes you even hotter." Chuck smiled at her to let her know he was teasing before he turned back to the TV, intending only to save his game and shut the system down.
Sarah grabbed his wrist before that could happen. She had the mischievous smile on her face, the one that spelled trouble. "I'm just going to—" Chuck managed to say before she grabbed his face, giving him no choice in the matter. She pulled him toward her, scooting back until her back was against the arm rest and Chuck was almost on top of her, and kissed him.
They had agreed to move slowly, and Chuck supposed they still were since they weren't anywhere near sleeping together yet, but he and Sarah had very different definitions of the word "slow." By his definition, they would probably be barely past the stage of holding hands, but Chuck really didn't mind the current pace, especially since he had discovered early that Sarah loved to be touched. It wasn't surprising—she was always rubbing his arm or brushing against him—but until two weeks before, he hadn't known just how much she loved having that sort of thing reciprocated. And even more than that, she seemed to love kissing him. They didn't have many opportunities, since they had agreed that PDA at the office was verboten, but at times like these, when Casey and the others weren't around, or in Sarah's Jeep after the Nutcracker show they had gone to see, Sarah had more than shown her enthusiasm for kissing him.
Even so, he broke the kiss now, gasping a little. Every sense felt like it was in overdrive, so that he was hyperaware of anything and everything to do with Sarah, but he still managed to focus the vision that had gone slightly blurry. "I really was just going to shut off the game so that I don't die a horrible death."
She grinned up at him, her face a little flushed. "Guess you'll just have to go back to your last life-saver thingie."
"Save point," Chuck said, and gasped again when Sarah, obviously bored with conversation, gently bit his jaw. "And it wasn't that long ago, I guess it's not a big deal…"
Sarah's snicker was muffled against his skin.
He might have heard the sounds of the "life lost" music playing in the background, but he wasn't sure, and he didn't care.
"Okay," Sarah said some time later. She levered an elbow under herself, scooting so that she was almost sitting up and nearly shoving Chuck's chin into her cleavage. He quelled the yelp and would have shot upright had Sarah not anticipated his move and grabbed his arm. She chuckled lowly. "What's bothering you?"
Chuck blinked at her fuzzily. How was she able to talk right now? "What? Why would something be bothering me?"
"Because something is," Sarah said, meeting his eyes evenly.
If there were downsides to dating a ninja, dating a psychic had to be even worse. A ghost of a frown crossed Chuck's face. "How can you tell?"
"I couldn't, actually. I thought something might have been, but I was bluffing. However, now…" Sarah poked him in the side, grinning when he jumped and glowered at her. "C'mon, out with it."
"It's nothing," Chuck said.
Sarah narrowed her eyes.
"Really, if anything, it's a little embarrassing. I'd rather get back to what we were doing."
"Okay," Sarah said, and returned to the kiss with an enthusiasm that seemed to shoot heat all the way through Chuck.
"You're giving me very mixed signals here," he said after a minute, squirming a little when Sarah played with the hair at the base of his skull, where it was starting to curl. She merely smiled and drew him into a long kiss that contained only a little bit of heat. "Very mixed signals."
"You said you didn't want to talk about it."
"Did I?" He couldn't remember a thing, let alone his own name. "Oh. My bad."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"I think—I don't know what I'm thinking anymore. Never mind?"
"Good." Sarah scooted down, pulling him with her. "Then shall we?"
Chuck lowered his head, and the front door opened. Even as Chuck froze, Casey glared at both of them for a long moment. He stalked to the entertainment center opposite them and opened up a box. Without saying a word, he showed them a cigar, accusingly, and walked past them. The bedroom door closed behind him with a loud click.
Sarah, who hadn't tensed at Casey's entrance, waited a beat and turned to Chuck, her eyebrow raised.
He sighed. "We have a system."
"A system?"
"Every time he catches us, uh, doing anything, he gets a cigar."
Sarah looked puzzled. "Why can't you just give him the whole box?"
"Because that's bribery."
"And giving him one at a time isn't—"
"We have a system. We don't mess with the system," Chuck said, using his "official" voice.
Sarah mimicked him, poorly. "Okay."
"Speaking of systems, your super spy senses just failed us. You didn't hear him coming?"
"I did. I didn't care." Sarah grinned impishly and stretched, bumping Chuck with her shoulder and knee. "Have you eaten yet?"
"There was pizza. There may still be pizza."
"Pass. Too much grease."
"That's the whole pointof pizza."
"You eat like a frat boy."
"I was a frat boy."
Sarah tilted her head. "Really?" she asked.
"Bryce convinced me to rush with him second semester Freshman year." Chuck disentangled himself from Sarah and levered himself off of her with some difficulty, as she had several things in common with the average barnacle in situations like these. He didn't mind, but apparently the making-out session of the evening was over, thanks to the fact that Casey was on the other side of the wall. "I think we've got some rabbit food left from when Ellie got it into her head to shop for us."
"Rabbit food?" Sarah looked affronted.
Chuck realized he might be digging himself in a hole. "Delicious rabbit food?" he offered quickly.
Sarah wrinkled her nose. "You're lucky I think you're neat."
"Indubitably." Chuck pounded once on Casey's door.
"What?" Casey sounded annoyed.
"Sarah's cooking. You want anything?"
"Rabbit food?" Casey asked even as Sarah folded her arms and said, "I'm cooking, am I?"
"Yes," Chuck called to Casey before he borrowed another page from Sarah's book and raised an eyebrow as Casey declared that he had other things to do, like trim his toenails. "Do you really want me to make rabbit food? I screw up microwaveable meals on a regular basis."
"Point. But if I'm cooking, you have to at least eat some of it." Sarah pulled her shirt back into place and headed into the kitchen. "And stop calling it rabbit food."
"Uh-huh," Chuck said, taking up a seat at the island. When Sarah had her back turned, rifling through the cabinets, he let the frown he'd been suppressing overtake his face. It was probably a stupid thing to obsess over, but he couldn't seem to help himself. It had been two weeks, and he had yet to be the first to initiate a kiss.
17 JANUARY 2008
CASTLE: DOWNSTAIRS
15:21 PST
"Hey, bro?"
Captain Awesome stuck his head into Chuck's new office. With Ellie having started on her fellowship, Awesome was in charge of making sure that the Castle infirmary was fully stocked. Chuck tried not to think about it, as Ellie and Awesome's office getting used meant that somebody was injured, but he appreciated having Awesome around.
He barely glanced away from the code he was reviewing as a favor to Dave now, though. "What's up?"
"I'm, uh, a little worried that it's going to come to fisticuffs if you don't come upstairs, dude."
"Oh, that's okay," Chuck said, turning back to face the monitors. "Casey looks big and menacing, but I'm almost one hundred percent sure Sarah could kick his ass in her sleep. They'll be fine."
"Uh, the fact that you just said that makes me a little worried, man."
"It's really not a big—" Awesome's original words finally broke through the haze of computer code.
"You said fisticuffs?" He and Awesome glanced at the ceiling at the same time. "Oh, that can't be good."
He beat Awesome up the stairs by half a step and threw open the Scooby door. Even though his old office was empty, he could still hear them.
"—your partner, not mine!"
"And I'm the one that successfully brought him in!"
"Yeah, because he stalked you on your date with the moron and—"
"Chuck is not a moron!"
Since he recognized real fury in Sarah's voice, and that never led to anything good, Chuck crossed the office at a sprint and barreled through the door to the front room. "Hey-yo," he said loudly, and both Sarah and Casey, who had been squared off, turned to glare at him. "What—what's going on, guys? What's shaking?"
Because Casey's expressions always spoke for themselves, Chuck could clearly read the look he shot at Sarah: "You're telling me this guy's not a moron?"
Sarah rolled her eyes back at Casey.
"Bryce just got in touch. He wants a meet," Sarah told Chuck. "We're deciding who should go."
"I say Agent Blondie here—"
"Blondie?" Sarah asked. "Real cute, Casey."
Casey looked to Chuck for support, but the nerd hedged. "It was a bit uncalled for," Chuck said, wanting to shuffle his feet.
"Typical. Take her side."
"You just called her—"
"Larkin is CIA," Casey interrupted, smugly folding his arms over his chest. "Ergo, he's your problem, Walker."
"Larkin is a member of a joint NSA-CIA taskforce," Sarah shot back in the same tone. "Ergo, he's also your problem, Casey."
After feeling Bryce's loneliness acutely a few weeks before, Chuck wanted to squirm. Even his teammates didn't want to have anything to do with Bryce. Not that Chuck could blame them, as Bryce had ruined Sarah and Casey's lives in very specific ways by blowing up the Intersect, but Chuck still felt a stab of pity for Bryce. "I can go," he offered. "After all, he was my friend and—"
"No," Casey and Sarah said on the same breath.
"You know Larkin better, Walker, you'll be able to tell if he's lying," Casey went on.
"Why would he be lying, Casey?" Sarah looked exhausted, and apparently annoyed at having to defend Bryce. "He's on our side."
"Forgive me if I don't personally think a guy who would blow up a major national security asset is entirely on the up and up, even if he does have the Bartowski and Walker seal of approval." Casey glared from one to the other in turn. "I don't understand why you're not leaping at the chance, Walker. See your old pal, exchange war stories of how you slept your way to the top."
"The CIA does not sanction seduction missions!"
Chuck's eyebrows rose high but before he could dwell on that, a throat cleared behind him. Chuck and the others turned in surprise. Somehow, they had completely forgotten Awesome's presence, which was a feat in itself. He still stood in the doorway, his eyebrows very high as he looked from one team member to the other. "Maybe you could flip a coin?" he offered.
"There's an idea," Sarah said, digging in her pocket for said coin. "Okay, Casey, call it."
But Casey instead snatched the coin from Sarah. "Yeah, right, like I trust you and your spook sleight of hand."
Sarah grabbed the coin back. "You went through some of the exact same training I did," she said, scowling. "Chuck, you flip it."
"Uh-uh. He's biased. He'll skew the results."
"I don't even know how to do that," Chuck said, puzzled. "It's a coin toss, guys. It's not like we're negotiating hostility cessation in the Middle East!"
But Casey was adamant. In the end, it was decided that Captain Awesome should toss the coin for the agents, as he was far too awesome to throw the toss one way or the other.
Casey lost.
18 JANUARY 2008
BACHELOR PAD
00:32 PST
Even though Chuck told himself he wasn't waiting up for Casey, he knew deep down that he didn't need to review the files Bryce had given him. He knew them inside and out, backwards and forward. He didn't have Sarah's damn near photographic memory, but he had looked over the files enough that if he closed his eyes, he could see them against the back of his eyelids like an Intersect flash. And he really shouldn't be reading them again, as they only depressed him about just how little the government had on the creators of the Intersect. Chuck hadn't seen so many black lines since a cable network had shown Porky's during primetime.
Pen clenched in his teeth, Chuck flipped to a new page, his fingers stilling as they ran over the slightly raised text. The papers looked like they had been printed on an old ink-jet printer years before. This was the page where somebody hadn't been quite careful enough with the black pen, and he could see the first letters of two of the Intersect co-creator code names. He had started calling them Dr. O and Dr. P. Sarah was busy collating data to see how many codenames started with those letters that she could find in the documents in the system, but as she had pointed out, P was a pretty common letter, seeing as even Chuck was technically one himself: Prometheus. She had let slip that in her training, she herself had once been an O: Ophelia.
Basically, he had nothing. And he knew it. He figured even Beckman knew it, which was why she had authorized Bryce handing these files off to him. He knew that even though Graham might be displeased about the methods used by Operation Prometheus, he appreciated having results to show to the different senatorial committees too much to give the current Intersect an escape route.
Besides, he wasn't even sure he really wanted the Intersect out of his head. Things were okay. He was somewhat important to the government with the computer in his noggin, and he had Casey and Sarah and Ellie protecting him. He was even back in Burbank. There was really no need to poke at the status quo, not when he found he actually somewhat liked the status quo.
He glanced up when the door opened, admitting Casey and a gust of cool January air. "What're you still doing up?" the NSA agent grunted. Since they didn't have company, he began his usual process: tossing the keys in the bowl by the door, peeling out of his winter coat, checking the security system.
Chuck shrugged, though Casey wasn't facing his way. "Just reviewing some old files. What did Bryce have to say?"
"A hell of a lot more after I convinced him that real agents don't sit around making small talk when on deep undercover assignments." Casey growled something else under his breath, and Chuck figured he was better off not translating. "He's followed some leads on Ezersky's company in the area, thinks he's found the major buyer that authorizes the security between Krolik Enterprises and Fulcrum."
"Out here in L.A.?" Chuck asked in surprise, setting the Intersect files aside.
Casey shrugged: what of it?
"It's a bit coincidental, don't you think?"
"L.A.'s a big city, Bartowski. Bad guys need to ogle starlets and get tans, too." Casey scowled and dropped a manila folder on top of the stack beside Chuck. "Was going to give that to you tomorrow in the office, but since you're here and awake, make yourself useful."
Chuck tossed him a sarcastic salute. "Yes, sir."
But he obeyed as Casey opened the fridge to root for a beer. The file didn't contain much—a couple of pages, one the crinkly consistency of fax paper, and a grainy black and white photograph of a dark man in sunglasses and a designer suit climbing out of a Ferrari. The next page listed some pertinent data. His name was Piers Faulkner, he was a Swiss national who had studied at Oxford and had received his MBA at Brown. He was serving, Chuck read, as an interim VP of operations for Kanichen Enterprises, based out of the L.A. as Casey had said.
"No flash?" Casey asked as he popped the beer top.
"The Intersect's dry on this guy." Chuck held the photo up to the light. "Looks rich."
"Your brilliant spywork tell you that, Bartowski?"
Chuck gave Casey a wounded look. The other man rolled his eyes, but his tone was at least apologetic as he said, "That's fine. I'll pull his file tomorrow and we'll see if we need to do any reconnaissance."
"I can help with that."
"Sure, leaving you in a van in broad daylight in L.A. would never lead to trouble." At least this time there was a bit of humor in Casey's voice as he took the file folder back from Chuck and tucked it under his arm. He paused by his bedroom door. "Anything else in those files?" he asked, nodding at the stacks of paperwork piled up around Chuck.
"Except for frustration? Not really, no."
"You're tenacious, Chuck. You'll figure something out." And before Chuck could ask if Casey had just said something nice to him, Casey vanished into his bedroom with the beer, leaving Chuck alone for the night.
21 JANUARY 2008
CASTLE: DOWNSTAIRS
09:43 PST
"As far as I can tell, Faulkner's not met up with any government contacts, suspected Fulcrum or otherwise," Casey said, speaking over Chuck's head to Sarah since the former was bent forward at the conference table, tweaking the GPS/cell phone jammer he was designing to fit easily on a car. "Larkin and I set up a drop point and he's left a few names and possible leads, but so far…" He tossed a file onto the table in disgust. "We got nothing. Which is probably typical for the CIA, but as a respected employee of the National Security Agency, I'm a little less than thrilled, Walker."
"In other words," Sarah said, "you're cranky, is what you are."
Casey scowled, but didn't deny it as he sipped his coffee.
"Unfortunately, right now, our enemy is faceless. We caught a break when Chuck stumbled onto their security system, as that gives us a place to start, but we're really just grasping at straws." Sarah frowned. "And I don't think you can really blame this on the CIA."
"But I want to."
"Fair enough."
"Nothing twigged in Faulker's financials?"
"He donates an inordinate amount to charity every year, but I checked and it's all legit. He gives quite a sizable donation to the American Ballet Company in particular."
"Does he?" Casey's tone told Chuck, who was only listening with one ear, exactly how suspicious he found that.
"His niece, Annalise, is studying to be a dancer."
"Nepotism." Casey snorted.
Chuck looked up from the jammer. "It runs in the family," he deadpanned, and returned back to his work.
The other agents ignored him, possibly out of ease of long practice.
"Any chance of getting close to him?" Sarah asked. "Anything come up on Kanichen's security that we can exploit?"
"For a possibly shady company, they're a bunch of do-gooders and Samaritans." Chuck glanced up from under his lashes just in time to see Casey sneer his opinion of that. "Not even a middle-manager that looks bribe-worthy. I'll keep looking."
"You do that." Sarah sounded amused.
"In the meantime, you mind taking on a few background checks, Walker? Unless you want to run the financials again."
"I'll let them sit a couple of days. Give me any files you want me to run."
Folders slapped onto the table between Chuck and Sarah with frightening alacrity. Apparently, Chuck thought as he looked up from adjusting an errant wire, Casey had long grown tired of sifting through the backgrounds of random employees that might or might not be connected to a shadowy government organization which still had no means, motive, or clear purpose.
He frowned, setting the pliers down. Before Sarah could pull the stack to her, Chuck reached out and picked up the top folder. "I know this logo," he said, pointing at the business card stapled to the front flap. "I've seen this before."
"Did you flash on it?" Sarah asked.
"No." An Intersect flash would have meant that he could bring the information to the forefront of his mind without problem. As it was, the logo flitted at the edges of his memory, a hard concept to grasp. "It was somewhere recent. Maybe on a flyer, or a business card? Yeah, I think that was it...hold on, I'll think of it any minute now."
"Take your time," Casey muttered. "We've got all year."
Chuck ignored the barb. He was fairly certain he hadn't seen the logo on a computer screen anywhere, which meant it was either older than his time in the bunker, or fairly recent, which meant… "Got it!" he said, nearly slapping his forehead when it hit him. "Morgan's deejaying for somebody that works for Kanichen, I think."
Casey set a pen and a writing tablet in front of Chuck. "Get me a name, Bartowski."
"Okay, hold on just a sec." Chuck pulled his phone out and frowned. "That's weird. I normally get great reception down here."
Sarah pulled out her own phone and frowned. "Yeah, that's odd. What…" She trailed off and smiled. "Chuck?"
"Yeah?" He was busy waving his phone in the air, trying to see if he could get reception. He looked down when Sarah wordlessly reached over in front of him and hit the switch on the jammer, powering it down. "Oh," he said. "Right."
He heard her quiet chuckle, undercut by Casey's mutter, as he left the room to go talk to Morgan.
"Andreas Kohlmeier," he said a few minutes later, having convinced Morgan to leave a round of Mystery Crisper and retrieve the card from his desk. He had no idea what "Mystery Crisper" was or why it was so important, but his friend hadn't been happy. Chuck had had to promise Morgan an extra gaming night that week.
"Andy Kohlmeier is Piers Faulkner's second in command," Casey said. Since he hadn't had to look at any files to know that name, Chuck figured he'd researched the guy plenty by now. He frowned, possibly trying to bring up details in his mind. "He's got a birthday coming up. Friday."
"That's the night of the party," Chuck said, frowning a little.
"Did he say where the party was?"
"Yeah, he said it was at an office building and—" Chuck broke off when it hit him. Both of the other agents were watching him expectantly. Immediately, he began to shake his head. "Oh, no. No, no, no."
Casey and Sarah exchanged a glance, and Chuck could practically see them deciding who would take point. Sarah won, apparently. "Chuck, this is the perfect opportunity to get in and do a little reconnaissance. Call Morgan back and see if he can get us on the list."
"A little reconnaissance for us usually ends with a nuclear arms race," Chuck said. "And I'm not doing that anywhere near my best friend. He's the last link to my normal life, and I'm not wasting that."
"The gnome," Casey growled, "will be fine."
"Can you guarantee that for me in writing, Casey?" Chuck glared. "I didn't think so."
"I can guarantee it with my foot shoved up your—"
"Casey!" Sarah cleared her throat and immediately Casey subsided into a formidable scowl. Sarah turned to face Chuck. "We're not going to be running anything dangerous, Chuck. We just want to get in and see if we can plant some bugs, that's all. We will do everything we can to ensure that Morgan is perfectly fine."
Chuck folded his arms over his chest and said nothing. "Not happening," he said. "And just so you know, nothing you say is going to convince me."
25 JANUARY 2008
KANICHEN ENTERPRISES
08:07 PST
"I hate this."
"I know you do."
"No, I really, really hate this." Chuck scowled and put the rental they'd gotten for the night in park and took the keys out of the ignition. He didn't look in the rearview mirror to adjust his bowtie again, since Sarah had told him to quit that, that it looked perfectly fine. He looked over at her in the passenger seat. Thankfully, he'd had the whole car ride to grow desensitized, as she had gone all out for the evening, and her dress didn't cover much. "There's really no other way to do this?"
"No easy way that's low-risk to agents," Sarah said. "Now, c'mon, give the valet your keys and we'll go inside."
Because every single one of his protests had fallen on deaf ears anyway, Chuck climbed from the car and did as he was bid, crossing around to open Sarah's door for her. They'd pulled up to the Kanichen office, where the birthday party for Andy Kohlmeier was being held. Morgan had been able to get Chuck and Sarah on the list without any problems, and Casey was waiting in the van, running the com channels. A valet service was waiting outside the office building, waiting to take the cars in a light drizzle. Chuck didn't envy them at all.
Sarah twined an arm through his as they climbed the steps, adjusting her wrap with her free hand. "It'll be okay, Chuck," she said before they reached the front doors. "Morgan's going to be just fine."
Chuck wasn't so sure as he allowed himself to be dragged inside.
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