“Chuck versus the G.R.E.T.A.”
A Chuck/Scarecrow and Mrs. King crossover story set mid-season four of Chuck—after the engagement and before Chuck versus the Family Volkoff; however, Chuck versus the A-Team throws this story slightly off canon.
Rated PG-13 for language and sexual situations.
Special thanks to Narelle and Beth who helped brainstorm and again to Beth for beta reading.
Anne Riener
A Chuck/Scarecrow and Mrs. King crossover story set mid-season four of Chuck—after the engagement and before Chuck versus the Family Volkoff; however, Chuck versus the A-Team throws this story slightly off canon.
Rated PG-13 for language and sexual situations.
Special thanks to Narelle and Beth who helped brainstorm and again to Beth for beta reading.
Anne Riener
Prologue
Opening the door to her hotel room, she stepped inside, placing her keys and purse on the dresser. She shrugged out of her blazer and slung it over the back of the chair, removed her tie from around her neck and laid it over her jacket, then kicked off her heels. Next, she wiggled her toes on the cool carpet. Padding across the room, she made her way to the sink and turned the handle. Dipping her hands under the spout, she splashed cold water on her cheeks. She then grabbed a fluffy white hand towel and wiped her face. Staring at her reflection in the mirror for a moment, she took a deep breath before walking over to a small refrigerator. Grabbing a can of Coke, she then unceremoniously flopped down in the wing-backed chair and turned on the television set.
She thought the room was a bit stuffy, so she stood up and opened the sliding glass door that led to the balcony. The cool air began to circulate throughout the room and curtain drapes billowed in the gentle breeze. She could hear the sound of passing cars and horns in the distance.
Sitting back down, she kicked up her feet. It felt good to be off her feet after such a long day at work. She could not remember the last time she had stood for so long. Popping the soda can open, she took a sip of her cola, and leaned her head back, half tuned-in to the local news.
“The weather for southern California and the greater Los Angeles area will be mostly sunny skies, with highs in the mid 60’s, lows in. . .”
The first she knew there were intruders inside her room was when a large figure appeared in her peripheral vision.
Instinctively, she jumped and searched for anything she could use as a weapon. She never had a chance. She felt a large hand smother her nose and mouth with a smelly cloth. Nausea swept over her before everything went black.
*****
The Agency - Washington, D.C.
Federal Agent Lee Stetson sat at his desk in his office thumbing through a stack of files when his wife and partner, Amanda King Stetson, breezed into the room.
“Ready for lunch, Sweetheart?”
“I’m going to have to cancel our lunch date,” he regretfully told her, giving a disdainful glimpse at his untidy desk.
“Again?”
“I’m sorry.” He gestured toward several tall stacks of manila folders. “As you can tell, I’m swamped. The White House wants a detailed list of where each department can supposedly ‘trim the fat’. We are already short-staffed as it is with all the budget cuts. I swear, Amanda, its days like these.” He placed his hand on the back of his neck and rubbed the kink beginning to form.
Amanda walked behind him, and began to massage his neck and shoulders. He felt her push harder. The knots began to loosen under her tender ministrations. First the neck, and then the tension in his shoulders began to subside. “Mm-hm. That feels good, Honey.” Regretfully he heaved a deep sigh. “However, I need to turn in this report by five.” He then shook his head and again motioned briskly at the folders. “I was never cut out for the paperwork jungle and this bureaucratic bull—”
“Leeee.” She drew out his name and swatted him on the arm.
“Ow!” He rubbed his arm where she had hit him.
“Tell you what, how about you make it up to me later. . . “ She leaned over whispering in his ear.
He glanced over his shoulder and grinned at her. “I like your idea, Mrs. Stetson. It’s a date.” He pushed back from his chair and stood up, wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her firmly against his chest, lowered his mouth and gave her a gentle kiss. “There’s more of that later.”
“I can’t wait,” she replied with a wicked smile, and then gave him a sly wink.
He was about to kiss her again, when the telephone rang. Lee groaned and rolled his eyes.
Amanda gave him a knowing look, before she reached across him and grabbed the phone off his desk. “Lee Stetson’s office. . . Yes, of course. Send her right up.” Amanda returned the phone to the cradle. Lee tilted his head to one side.
“General Diane Beckman is here to meet with us,” she supplied without him even having to ask her a question.
“What does she want?” Lee asked, quickly trying to straighten the mess on his desk. Amanda helped him by removing some folders and placing them on top of the file cabinet and shrugged.
Soon there was a knock at the door. Amanda opened the door inviting their guest in and offered her a seat next to Lee’s desk.
The Brigadier General was a mousy woman with an air of command about her. She wore a green Army service uniform and her dark brown hair rolled into a tight bun.
Lee extended his hand. “General Beckman, always a pleasure.”
She returned his handshake, shook Amanda’s hand and then took a seat, crossing her legs in front of her. Then she placed her briefcase on the floor.
“Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea, water?” Amanda offered.
“No, thank you.” She waved her hand in gesture, placed her hands on her lap, and with a slight nod said, “Lee, Amanda I’ll get straight to the point, I’ve come to ask you for a favor.”
Lee perched himself at the edge of his desk. “What can we do for you, General?”
“We have reason to believe one of our agents has been kidnapped.” She gently brushed a stray wisp of hair from her eyes, tucking it behind her ear.
“Reason to believe,” Amanda interjected. She stood next to Lee and folded her arms across her chest.
The General picked up her briefcase, placed it in her lap, and opened it. “She did not show up to work yesterday. Colonel Casey went to her hotel room to check on her; however, her room was empty, no suitcases, no clothes, nothing. We swept the room for prints and found none including hers, yet we have received no ransom note nor phone call with kidnapper’s demands. This is what we know so far.” General Beckman removed a dossier from the contents of her briefcase and handed it to Lee.
He opened the file and began to read out loud; “Agent failed to report in, subject missing, all attempts to establish communication have failed.”
“Is there a possibility she is AWOL?” Amanda asked, reading the file over Lee’s shoulder.
General Beckman gave a curt nod. “Always a possibility, but whatever the case we need your help locating our missing agent.”
Lee rested his hand on the back of his neck. He glanced over at Amanda and from the corner of his eye saw his wife nod. He then answered for both of them, “Yes, Ma’am.”
General Beckman rifled through her briefcase again and handed Amanda the plane tickets. “You will be flying out of Dulles to Bob Hope International Airport.”
“Burbank?” Lee raised one eyebrow in question.
“Yes, we have a CIA base of operations there and that was her last known locale.”
Lee and Amanda exchanged quick looks and they shrugged in unison, then returned their attention back to the General.
“There you will be meeting with Colonel John Casey. He is in charge of the G.R.E.T.A.’s.” She latched her briefcase closed with a snap.
“Her name is Greta?” Lee asked, tapping the manila folder on his knee.
“No,” she stated simply. “The acronym ‘Greta’ stands for Government Revolving Espionage Tactical Agent. G.R.E.T.A. was brought in after last year’s fiasco with Agent Daniel Shaw. He or she monitors Team Bartowski, keeping eyes and ears on the team without getting too close.”
“Team Bartowski? As in Chuck Bartowski?” Amanda questioned.
“Oh, you know Agent Bartowski?” General Beckman remarked.
Lee shook his head, barely repressing the chuckle that threatened to escape. He looked over at Amanda. A warm smile slowly crept across his wife’s face. “We met him and Sarah Walker last summer while on vacation at Yosemite National Park. Chuck went back to the CIA. Good for him.”
“Good for us. He has been an invaluable asset.” General Beckman stood up and headed toward the door, then turned around to face them. “You might want to start your investigation with Morgan Grimes.”
“Agent Grimes?” Lee picked up a pen and scribbled the name down on a notepad.
“No, civilian. . . sort of an apprentice agent. He’s the manager.”
“The manager?” Lee asked, perplexed.
“Yes, the CIA faculty is located inside. . .”
*****
“. . . the Buy More,” Amanda said after Lee and her entered through the double sliding glass doors and stood inside the store.
The electronics, computers, and home theater store manager, Morgan Grimes, quickly walked over to them. “Welcome to the Buy More. Wait a minute, I know you—you’re Woody—"
“No, the name is Stetson, Lee Stetson. And my wife, Amanda.”
“The Stetsons.” Morgan rocked back on his heels and thrust his hands into his pant pockets. “Yes, the General told me to expect you, but damn if you are not the spitting image of Chuck’s sister’s father-in-law, Dr. Woody Woodcomb.”
Amanda and Lee followed Morgan past the aisles of DVD’s, televisions, computers, and appliances before they reached the manager’s office. Morgan closed the office door and motioned for Lee and Amanda to take the two chairs across from his desk. He then sat down and leaned forward folding his hands in front of him. “You are here about the missing G.R.E.T.A.?”
Amanda merely nodded, placing her purse on the back of the chair. “What can you tell us about her, Mr. Grimes?”
“Not much to tell, as I’m sure you know the G.R.E.T.A.’s rotate every couple of weeks, so I really don’t get the chance to get to know any of them.” Morgan’s hands fluttered as he talked. “Plus, most of the G.R.E.T.A.’s have been girls and very gorgeous looking—not that I have noticed. I’m in a very committed relationship with the most wonderful woman in the world. I guess you really didn’t need to know that,” he replied with a sheepish grin.
Amanda smiled back at him. “When was the last time you saw her?”
“I saw Alex last night—oh, you mean G.R.E.T.A.? Let’s see, um, it would have been on Tuesday. It was my turn to open the store. I did my usual managerial routine, opening registers, counting tills, safety sweep, delivery and inventory sheets, checked the bathrooms, stock room and employee break room. I saw her in the break room drinking coffee with Casey—I mean Colonel Casey. They were in deep conversation.”
“Could you hear what they were talking about?” Amanda crossed her legs and leaned forward.
“No. Last minute instructions, maybe.” He shrugged casually, and then his eyes opened wide with surprise. “You don’t think the Colonel is a suspect, do ya?”
“He was the last person to see her,” Lee reminded him.
“No way! Not John!” He shook his head several times. “You are barking up the wrong tree.”
“No, we don’t suspect the Colonel,” Amanda reassured him, she then tried a softer approach. “We’re just trying to cover all the bases.”
Morgan nodded. “Yes, of course.”
“Anything else you want to add?” Lee asked him.
Morgan hesitated for a moment; his eyes focused elsewhere. He rubbed his wiry beard thoughtfully.
“Mr. Grimes?” Amanda asked.
At that very moment, Morgan pointed out the office window.
Lee and Amanda turned around to see where Morgan gestured. Through the open blinds slats they saw Jeff and Lester prancing around the home entertainment staging area in wet t-shirts.
Lee stood up and lifted one of the blind slats to get a clearer view. “What’s up with the creepy duo?”
Morgan sighed. “The million-dollar question.” He straightened his tie and then looked up. “I think they’re trying to hold a wet t-shirt contest.”
Lee shook his head in disbelief.
“After all, it is spring break,” Morgan exclaimed.
“Is there something you need to tell us about them, Mr. Grimes? Who exactly are they and why are you pointing them out to us?” Lee asked.
“They are Jeffery Barnes and Lester Patel and they have stalked the G.R.E.T.A.’s in the past.”
Amanda wrote down their names. “What do you mean?”
Morgan blew out a deep breath. “Although they are strange and not the sharpest knives in the drawer, they are very observant and think it's weird having a new employee every few weeks named Greta, and have been a little more than suspicious. Both Casey and I have caught them following her around.” He brushed a piece of lint from the top of his desk. “Really, they are harmless.”
“Nevertheless, we should interview them; however, I think we should talk to Colonel Casey first.” Lee stood up and reached into his pocket. “Thank you for your time and if there is anything more you can add please let us know.” He handed Morgan a business card and then helped Amanda out of her chair.
“Yes, of course. I do hope you find her.”
“Mr. Grimes, if you could please show us the way to the underground base,” Amanda asked, grabbing her purse, she slung it over her shoulder.
Morgan opened the door for them. “Yes, of course, right this way to Castle.”
*****
Lee and Amanda sat in swivel chairs at the big metallic table across from Special Agent John Casey. The conference table was in the main room, inside the secret underground CIA facility at the Buy More. Casey had his arms folded across his large chest and his jaw locked tight. “I already told the General I would take care of this. I really don’t know why the General felt I needed outside help,” he growled.
"I think I'm more than qualified to answer that question, Colonel," a female voice said, in a slightly irritated tone. General Beckman's head appeared on the main television monitor in the middle of the room. “Lee and Amanda are doing this as a favor to me and have experience in missing persons; therefore, you will tell the Stetsons everything you know about our missing G.R.E.T.A.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Casey scowled.
"Good," replied the General and then the screen faded to the blue background with the CIA logo.
Casey stood up from the conference table, walked over to the console and came back with a stack of files. He placed them down and slid them across the table toward the couple. “Here are the files of the past and current G.R.E.T.A. agents.”
Lee removed a plastic case from his sport coat, opened it, and took out a pair of reading glasses. Then he put them on. He skimmed through the first file and passed it onto Amanda. She flipped through the dossiers, read the corresponding bios and scanned the subsequent pictures for each agent.
“The General already explained what G.R.E.T.A. stands for. What you might not know is he or she changes every few weeks.” Casey propped himself against the wall and folded his arms across his green Buy More shirt.
“Yes, Mr. Grimes told us.” Amanda shifted slightly in her chair and then went back to looking closely at the files.
Casey grunted and slightly nodded his head. “Not only does the agent keep tabs on Team Bartowski. They also maintain operating procedures inside the Buy More, as well as report on how the store is doing financially.”
Lee tilted his head questionably at Amanda who shrugged. Casey could see the confused expression on both their faces. He pulled out a chair and sat down. “Well, the government still expects the Burbank Buy More to make money.”
Both Lee and Amanda nodded and then went through the reports closely for several minutes. Lee spoke up, “Most of these agents have corresponding pictures with their bios, but I don’t see one for the current one.” He held up the file for the most recent G.R.E.T.A.
“Isn’t that odd?” Amanda interjected.
Casey grunted again. “Yes, I thought that was weird too, but I just chalked it up to the government having incomplete information, or the picture was attached to the wrong bio. You know the government.” He shrugged his large broad shoulders.
“According to this information the agent rotated in was Susan Black,” Lee said.
Amanda gave Lee a confused look. She looked deep in thought for a moment, but then shook it off.
“What?” Lee removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off the headache he felt coming on.
“I know that name from somewhere, but Black is a common name, as well as Susan, so probably just a coincidence,” Amanda rambled.
“Do you know where you might recognize the name?” Lee asked her.
Amanda shook her head several times. “No. Female, 5’8”, brown hair, brown eyes. Doesn’t give us much—could describe just about anyone.”
“What do you remember about her, Colonel?” Lee queried the NSA agent.
Casey leaned back in his chair. “It was Monday. I was scanning the crowded store floor, when I saw her. My eyes met hers and she smiled back. She was wearing the typical Nerd Herd uniform, white shirt, gray tie, short black mini-skirt. She was young—too young. Younger than what the CIA usually brings in.”
“How young?” Lee rolled back from his chair, stood up and began to pace the room with the folder in his hand.
“Twenty-two or three.” Casey shrugged. “Fresh out of college, would be my guess. She reminded me of Alex.”
“Alex?” Amanda inquired.
“My daughter.”
Amanda nodded her head.
“Mr. Grimes brought up Jeff and Lester as possible suspects?” Lee stopped, placing the folder and his hands on the table.
“The Buy-Morons? They’re morons, not criminals. No, I don’t think they have anything to do with her disappearance.”
Lee glanced at his wife and noticed her biting her lip. “I know that look. What are you thinking?”
“College, right?” She looked at Lee and then Casey who both nodded their heads in conformation. “Where did Ms. Black go to school?” Amanda asked Lee.
Lee placed his glasses back on, opened the dossier and read the file. “Actually, she’s still in college. She’s a grad student at Stanford University.”
Amanda gasped. “That is where I know the name. Emily’s sorority mother at the Kappa house is a grad student named Susan Black.”
Lee and Amanda turned to face Casey, then Lee posed the question, “And just how long has the CIA been recruiting kids from college?”
*****
Morgan placed a drink holder down on the conference table, and then passed a hot cup of coffee to Casey, followed by one to Lee, and then Amanda. Morgan sat down to Casey’s left and swiveled around in his chair.
“The CIA recruits college students?” Lee asked, opening the plastic lid on his cup of coffee.
Casey shrugged nonchalantly. “Yes, both graduate and undergraduate. The CIA recruits at several campuses across the country and even the world. Students accepted in agency-sponsored programs are eligible for tuition assistance. It’s a great way to pay for college and serve your country at the same time.”
Lee stirred cream into his drink, put the lid back on, and took a sip of the bittersweet liquid. He sat back studying Susan’s information. “Susan. Smart girl. Lived in France for a few years, I remember her being fluent in French. Second year graduate student, studying economics.” He tapped the bio on the table and then took another sip of his coffee.
Amanda flipped her cell phone closed and placed it down on the table. “I just got off the phone with the Kappa house. One of the young ladies there told me Susan told them that she was going home for Spring Break which would explain why no one realized she was missing.” She stood up and walked toward the bank of computers. “Mr. Grimes, could you please show me how to print from this terminal.” Amanda asked him.
Morgan stood up, walked over to her and extended his hand. “It’s Morgan, Ma’am.”
Amanda returned his handshake. “Amanda.”
“May I ask who Emily is?”
She looked at him.
“You mentioned her a moment ago, and I was just curious.” He punched a few keys on the keyboard.
“Our daughter. She’s in her second year at Stanford.”
He nodded. “Chuck’s alma mater.”
“Yes, Chuck told me. By the way, where are Chuck and Sarah?”
“Doing light surveillance,” he told her. He punched a few more keys on the keyboard, then walked over to the printer tray and grabbed the picture. “Who is that?”
Amanda took the paper from him. “Susan Black.”
Morgan vehemently shook his head. “No, that’s not.”
Overhearing the conversation, Casey walked over to Amanda and Morgan. “What’s going on?”
“I just printed a picture of Susan Black from the Stanford college campus directory and Morgan says this is not her. Maybe you can shed some light on this Colonel.” She handed him the sheet of paper.
Casey studied the photo for a moment. “He’s right, this is not her. I mean it might be Susan Black, but that is not G.R.E.T.A.”
“Then who is missing?” Amanda asked no one in particular.
Everyone in the room looked at each other with confused expressions on their faces.
*****
California University Hospital
Lee and Amanda stepped off the elevator and turned right walking down the sterile hallway of the hospital. He placed his hand on Amanda’s back guiding her down the long floor to ceiling windowed corridor until they reached the intermediate ICU ward. Walking past the nursing station, they entered the brightly blue-pastel colored visitor lounge. A large coral fish tank was in the center of the room.
A petite dark-haired woman in her late 40’s sat in a sofa chair reading a magazine. She looked up and smiled at the couple.
“Mrs. Black?” Lee asked, extending his hand.
The woman placed her magazine down on the end table, stood up and returned the handshake. “The Stetsons, right? Susan has talked about your daughter Emily. Nice to finally meet you.”
Lee offered a small nod. “Likewise, Mrs. Black.”
“Please it’s Claudia. May I call you Lee and Amanda?”
“Of course,” Amanda answered for both of them. “How’s Susan?”
“Like I told you over the phone, she has bacterial meningitis. She’s responding well to antibiotics, and doing much better than when she was first brought it; however, she’s still a very sick girl.”
“Do we need to worry about Emily and exposure?” Lee turned to ask Amanda.
Amanda shook her head. “No, Emily had her second booster shot right before she entered her freshman year.” She noticed Lee breathe a sigh of relief, and focused back on Claudia. “We’re so sorry you and Susan are going through this and Lee and I hope she has a speedy recovery.”
Claudia looked to the floor and nodded her head several times. “Susan did not have the vaccination. It was not required at her undergraduate school. and she studied abroad.” She reached for a tissue from a Kleenex box on the table and dabbed her eyes. “You also said you needed to talk to her for a moment. I think she’s sleeping, but we can go in and I’ll see if I can wake her to answer your questions.” She led them toward a handwashing station. “You will need to scrub your hands and arms up to your elbows. There’s a pump at your foot that controls the water and dispenses the soap. Then put on the paper gown.” She pointed to the metal shelves with the gowns, caps and masks. “And don’t forget the mask.”
When the three of them were ready, Claudia led them to Susan’s room. She opened the door and Lee and Amanda followed. Susan lay in the hospital bed asleep. There was an IV pole next to her bed with the necessary fluids and antibiotics going through a picc line in her arm. A clear oxygen mask was over her nose and mouth and a cardiac monitor beeped steadily. In the room was also a patient chair with a footstool, a bedside table, and an over-bed table. A large flower arrangement sat on the windowsill.
Her mother moved the reclining chair closer to her bedside, reached out, and took one of her hands into her own. “Susan,” she whispered.
Susan's eyes fluttered open. She looked up at her mother and blinked a few times.
“Mom?” Her oxygen mask clouded over with each breath she exhaled.
“Yes, Sweetheart. Do you remember the Stetsons? Emily’s parents.”
Susan glanced over at Lee and Amanda and gave them a half-hearted smile. She then turned her focus back to her mother. “Mom, could you please go get me some ice chips. I’m a little parched.”
“Yes, of course.” Claudia stood up and walked toward the door, then turned around. “I’ll be right back.”
Susan nodded her head in thanks and then turned to Lee and Amanda, after her mother left. “I didn’t want my mom to hear our conversation. She doesn’t know I was recruited by the CIA.”
Lee and Amanda both nodded their heads in understanding. Amanda then sat down in the chair Susan’s mother had previously occupied. Lee stood at the foot of the bed.
“Susan, can you tell us what happened?” Amanda placed her hand on her shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze.
“Since you’re Agency, I assume you know about the CIA and the G.R.E.T.A. program.” She witnessed Lee nodding his head, as she turned to Amanda. “I was asked to be the G.R.E.T.A. and since it corresponded with spring break, I thought I could do it, except a couple days before I was to leave for Burbank, I started feeling sick—a severe headache, my neck was stiff, I was dazed and confused. The following day, my boyfriend took me to the hospital and I have been here ever since.”
“We are glad you are responding well to treatments; however, we need to know who took your place as the G.R.E.T.A.”
Susan blinked a couple more times then looked apologetically at Amanda and then back to Lee. “I thought you knew—isn’t that why you’re here?”
“Susan, you thought we knew what?” Amanda suddenly felt nauseated and her stomach began to churn.
“It was a cakewalk assignment—just observing some geeks at the Buy More, so I asked Emily if she wanted the assignment.”
Amanda struggled to catch her breath.
“What’s wrong?” Susan asked her.
“You must be confused. Emily is in Puerto Vallarta with some of the sorority sisters.”
Lee came around to the other side of Susan’s bed. “Yes, the reason my wallet is so much lighter.” Feeling apprehensive, he timidly laughed.
Susan shook her head, coughed, and then cleared her throat. “She didn’t want to tell you because she knew you would disapprove, but she was also recruited by the CIA.”
Lee and Amanda exchanged anxious glances and Lee stepped back bracing himself against the wall, rubbing his temples.
Amanda in a voice barely above a whisper replied, “Then the missing G.R.E.T.A. is our daughter.”
*****
A cruising yacht - docked in a marina somewhere out on the Pacific Ocean
Emily Stetson tried to open her eyes, but they were heavy. Her head hurt and her whole body ached. She tried to sit up, but was too dizzy. Placing her hand on her forehead, she collapsed back down on the mattress. Confusion swept over her.
Her head was spinning. What happened? Where am I? How did I get here? echoed through her mind. She could feel gentle rocking and could hear seagulls squawking. Gathering her bearings, she realized she was in a cabin on a boat. Feeling motion sickness and the lingering effects of the chloroform, she leaned over the small bed and heaved. Her stomach empty, she started to feel a little better. Well, at least the room had stopped spinning.
She blinked a couple of times attempting to take in her surroundings. A little filtered sunlight came through a dark green-tinted window. She then noticed a bottle of water on a small table near the bed and realized her throat was parched and she was thirsty. Struggling to open the bottle, she screwed the cap off and greedily drank the warmish liquid—but at least it was wet. She coughed from drinking too fast and wiped her mouth with the palm of her hand. Quickly stepping over to the window, she noted it did not open. She then walked over to the door and found it locked. She was trapped, alone, and frightened as she thought no one knew she was gone.
Dejected, she flopped back down on the mattress and pressed her hands to her eyes.
*****
“. . . I sympathize with your position Lee, Amanda,” General Beckman told Lee, Amanda, and Casey who all looked over at the bank of monitors. The General was on the main display. “However, you are too close to the situation. You need to stay out. Agents Bartowski and Walker will be back to Castle within the hour. I want you to give them everything you have. We’ll keep you informed. That is all for now.” Then the screen quickly faded to blue.
Lee paced the room and slammed his hand against the wall in frustration. “That’s our daughter we’re talking about. How does she honestly think we are going to sit this one out?”
Amanda shook her head several times. “She obviously doesn’t know you very well.”
Casey made an incoherent noise in the back of his throat.
“Do you have a problem, Colonel?” Lee growled.
“John or Casey is fine.” Casey put the folder he was holding down on the table. “Your daughter is the same age as my Alex. How the devil did she get mixed up in all this?”
Lee turned around to face Casey. “She's barely 22-years old. She doesn't have enough experience. When I find out who recruited her and who decided to keep her involvement from us a secret, I’ll strangle them.”
Amanda walked over to Lee and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, then turned to the Colonel. “We would like to know ourselves.”
“Any ideas who might have her?” Casey asked them.
Lee and Amanda looked at each other holding a silent conversation and then turned back to Casey. “No,” Lee answered for them. “I’ve been an intelligence operative since 1978, Amanda officially since 1986. And as my wife Amanda would say we’ve put a lot of unsavory people away.”
“Anything recent?”
Amanda shook her head. “Nothing. Neither Lee nor I have been in the field for years.”
Lee threw up his arms in aggravation. “This could be random or a past case. Of course, it might not have anything to do with us. It might be about the Intersect or the G.R.E.T.A. project.”
Casey leaned back in his chair and nodded. He agreed with Lee’s assessment. “Being a father myself I can imagine what I’d be going through if my daughter was missing, nor could I stand by and do nothing. Count me in.”
Lee reached across the table and shook his hand. “We’re glad to have you on our team, John.”
*****
Echo Park – California
Lee Stetson stood in the Echo Park apartment complex courtyard near the two-tiered water fountain waiting for Morgan when he saw a man come out of another apartment door holding a baby, a diaper bag was slung over his shoulder, and a car seat and stroller were in his other hand.
Spotting Lee, he called out, “Dad, what are you doing here early? I thought you and Mom were going to be here next week?” Lee tried to interrupt, but the baby wailed and squirmed in Devon’s arms. “I can’t thank you enough for watching Clara for us and giving Ellie and me this time to ourselves. This is perfect timing, we have a dinner appointment with a pharmaceutical company and thought we would have to cancel. We really could use this night out. She’s teething and nobody's getting any rest, if you know what I mean.” He handed over a diaper bag. “Here is the diaper bag and there's enough bottles made up in the fridge for the rest of the day and her next diaper change is due in twenty minutes and her next feeding is in an hour and the stuffed animal she MUST sleep with is in her crib. I had better go get Ellie in the van or she’s never going to leave. Thanks again, Dad. You’re a lifesaver.” He kissed the baby on the forehead. “Bye, Claire-Bear.”
Devon handed Clara off to him, leaving a very stunned Lee. He looked at the baby and she looked back at him. She hiccupped and drew sharp breaths between sobs. He then rested her on his shoulder, and patted her on the back, rocking her gently.
Morgan came out of his and Casey’s apartment door. “I got what Casey wanted. . . hey, now, why do you have Clara?” He glanced around looking for Ellie and Awesome.
“Some couple handed her over to me—I think they must have thought I was someone else.”
Both men shrugged at one another.
Morgan grabbed the car seat and pushed the stroller, then led Lee into the Woodcomb’s apartment. He shut the door behind him. “Should I go after them?”
Lee shook his head. “No, let them have their night out. It’s probably safer to face a gaggle of KGB agents than try to deny new parents a break. Less emotional, too.”
Lee saw a clean white cloth on the back of the sofa and placed it over his shoulder. “Does she have a teething ring?” he asked Morgan.
Morgan looked around the room and spied one on the coffee table. He picked it up. “Here’s one.”
“Good. Go put it in the freezer for a few minutes.”
Morgan shrugged, but did what Lee asked.
A few moments later, Lee still carrying Clara over his shoulder walked into the kitchen and removed her teething ring from the freezer. He gave it to her and she gummed it happily.
“You sure know your way around babies.”
Lee bounced her while he paced the living room. “Being Grandpa of four you learn a thing or two.” He smiled at her. “Isn’t that right, Clara?”
She cooed at him and continued to gum the ring.
“What do you have there Grimes?” Lee asked, noticing the molded guitar case with a “peace” sign and rainbow stickers. “I admit I don’t know Colonel Casey very well, but that certainly does not look like something he would be caught dead carrying.”
“No, the case was my idea. Nice touch, don’t ya think?”
“Is that the weapon the Colonel asked you to go back to the apartment and get?”
Morgan nodded his head.
“Well, show it to me.”
Morgan glanced around the room and opened the case. “First, cover Claire-Bear’s eyes. She does not need to be influenced by weapons or violence.”
Lee chuckled, shook his head and then placed Clara over his shoulder. She continued to gum the ring and a bit of drool dripped off her chin, past Lee’s rolled up shirt sleeve and onto the floor.
Morgan removed the firearm from the box. “He calls it the ‘Mother.’ It’s a Colt M4A1 Carbine with a Trijicon 4x ACOG scope and with a vertical fore grip.”
Lee and Morgan both leaned over 'Mother' as a ray of sunlight glistened on the gleaming black metal exterior, whilst the gun cradled in its case with a picture of John Lennon, with long hair and specs, making the peace sign, and a word bubble coming out of his mouth saying, 'Give peace a try.’
Lee let out a duly impressed whistle. “You’re not kidding. That’s one mother of a gun.”
They both became startled when they heard someone behind them clear her throat. “Men and their toys.”
Morgan turned around. “Alex, Honey Bun.” She tapped her foot at him and pointed to the watch on her wrist. “We had a date this afternoon, didn’t we?”
“You left the front door open and put that thing away before someone sees it.” She looked closely at the gun and rolled her eyes. “I’ll be out front in the courtyard if we’re still on.”
“Yes, of course.” Morgan quickly returned the gun to the case. “Well, since you two seem to be hitting it off do you mind if I take off? I have a date with Alex. We are supposed to go to this 'men are from Mars, women from Venus' seminar. The brochure read that this would ensure an ‘unshakable relationship foundation that will endure till the end of time.’ She planned this shindig weeks ago, and if I don’t go, I’ll be wishing I was living on Mars.” He chuckled nervously. “Anything I can do for you before I leave?”
“No, just let Amanda know where I am.”
“Sure, sure.” He picked up the case and slung it over his shoulder having to shift his weight when he became slightly off balance. “I’ll take this back to Castle and check on how Amanda and Casey are doing on your past cases. Chuck and Sarah should be there by now, too.”
“Have Amanda give me a call on my cell phone if they get any leads.”
“Will do.” Morgan saluted before heading out the apartment door.
Several hours later, Lee heard the rattling of the key in the front door handle. He lay on the couch with the baby asleep on his chest. He was in a fog, half asleep himself. Bottles, toys, diapers, wipes and her bear were flanked out before him.
Ellie entered the room first. “Dad?” She softly called out and then stopped suddenly. Grabbing Devon by the arm, she pulled him back. “Who the hell is that?”
Devon looked at her. “What are you talking about, Babe? That’s Dad.”
“No, it isn’t.” She shook her head. “I mean he looks like Woody, but that is not your father.”
Devon and Ellie Woodcomb looked over at the sleeping forms of the man on the couch and their daughter. “Well, whoever he is, Clara’s taken to him,” he said in hushed tones.
“I can’t believe you passed our baby off to a complete stranger.” She smacked him in the arm.
“Would you two please shut up? If either one wakes the baby, I will personally shoot the culprit in the kneecaps. . . from close range!”
“Devon, who is this man? Did you leave Clara with a gangster?” Ellie questioned him.
Morgan came in through the open front door and stood behind Ellie and Awesome. “No. A spy.”
Lee opened one eye and looked over at the couple. “I never really cared for that word.”
*****
A man in a dark brown suit and graying hair sat on a leather sofa in the main seating area of a yacht. The teak paneled room was luxuriously appointed with a bar, a large screen television, and stereo music center. He leaned back into the soft leather. Lacing his fingers behind his head, he closed his eyes and smiled.
He was interrupted a few moments later. “Sorry to interrupt, Sir, but there is a call for you.” His assistant handed him a mobile phone.
“Hello,” the man answered. “Yes, I have exactly what your client is looking for. Young, chestnut brown hair and chocolate eyes. I think he would be very pleased with her. . . Yes, I think we can come to more than agreeable terms. Always a pleasure doing business with you.” He placed the phone down and turning in his seat, he looked out the large bay window. It was a beautiful, late spring day in California. “Yes, today was turning out to be a great day indeed.”
*****
“Retzig, Birol, Makarov, Rostov.” Casey gave a long-drawn-out whistle through the front of his teeth while reading over Lee and Amanda’s past case files. He looked over at Amanda. “Quite the remarkable solve rate you two had while you and Lee ran the Q-Bureau. I’m impressed.”
She leaned back in her chair and squeezed her eyes shut. “Most of the people Lee and I have put away in the last twenty-odd years are either dead or still serving life sentences.” She heaved a deep sigh and wrung her hands. “It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. I wish whoever had her would let us know what their demands are.” She rolled back from her chair, restlessly she paced the room, chewing her fingernails. Realizing what she was doing, she stopped and dropped her arms to her side. “Where’s my baby?”
Casey unfolded himself from his chair and placed his hands on her arms with the best understanding smile he could muster. "I know it's just plain stupid to tell you not to worry, but know that we'll find her. . . or die trying."
Amanda blinked a couple of times. She could tell Casey was not used to playing the role of comforter; however, she was grateful he had tried. “Thanks, John," she answered with a weak smile.
Casey gently squeezed her arm, pleased with her reaction, and then moved away.
She closed her eyes again and bit her lip. “I wish Lee would hurry back.”
“Maybe he got stuck in traffic.”
Amanda turned to look at him with a confused expression on her face.
“What?” he asked.
She shook her head, but could not get rid of the sense of dread she felt. “Nothing.”
Casey glanced up at the bank of monitors looking at the store feed into the Buy More. He witnessed Lester and Jeff tossing boxes to one another in the stockroom. He growled. “How many times do I have to tell those morons not to damage the merchandise?”
“What did you say?” Icy fear twisted around her heart.
“Don’t damage the merchandise.”
"Merchandise?" Amanda spoke the word with a distasteful look on her face. She quickly scattered the files in front of her, then suddenly stopped on one particular folder. Trembling, she opened the dossier, and scanned information. “. . . first you and I will be together.” Her heart skipped a beat after she finished reading and she slowly sank back into the chair. “Oh, my gosh.”
“Come again?” Casey questioned.
“Not my baby—” she was interrupted by her cell phone ringing and dropped the file on the desk. “Hello,” she frantically answered. “Lee, where are you?”
“I’m pulling into the Buy More parking lot this very moment.” The front tires of the rental car hit the concrete parking block and he shifted the car into park. “Why, what’s up?”
“Just a theory. I’ll meet you up top in a minute.” She rolled back from her chair again and stood up. Her heels pounded against the metal rungs as she swiftly ascended the stairs.
*****
Lee quickly entered the store looking for his wife when he was approached by two men. Instinctively, he reached for his weapon hidden under his jacket. The shorter of the two men circled him. Lee relaxed when he recognized them as Buy More employees, Jeff and Lester.
Lester still crept around him sucking on a Tootsie Pop. He took the sucker out of his mouth with a loud pop. “We know who you are?”
Lee tried to brush them aside. “I’m here looking for my wife.”
Lester pointed to Jeff. “My friend Jeff says he recognizes you from Ellie and Awesome’s wedding.”
Jeff put his fingers to his temples and closed his eyes. “Woody. Your name is Woody.”
Lee rolled his eyes. “No.”
“Silent. The Amazing Jeffery is not done.” Lester held up his hand. “Continue, Jeffery.”
“You’re looking for someone.”
“Of course he’s looking for someone, Jeffery. He just said he was looking for his wife.”
“Oh, yeah. Right.”
“Listen. . . I really don’t have time—” Lee tried to interject.
Amanda came up behind Lee and put her arm around him. “There you are, Lee. Come this way I want to show you something,” Amanda said leading him away from the pair.
Lee shook his head in amazement. ”I don’t know how Chuck can work in this environment and I thought Fielder was bad. And why does everyone keep calling me Woody? Do I look like the sheriff cowboy from Toy Story?”
“No, but you sure do look cute in a Stetson.” She kissed him on the cheek.
“Cute, Amanda. Real cute.”
Jeff hollered out, “Wait, you are Cia!”
Surprised Amanda and Lee turned around to look at them.
Lester punched Jeff in the arm. “What is it with you and Cia? Cia. It doesn’t even mean anything. Sheesh, Jeff!”
Chuck Bartowski came up behind Jeff and Lester and put his arms around them. “Shouldn’t you two be over at the Nerd Herd desk?”
“Come on, Jeff. Let’s go back and work on the telepathy cards. I guess next time we’ll have to use shock therapy.”
“Like in Ghostbusters?” Jeff asked while the two of them headed off toward the Nerd Herd desk.
Lee extended his hand. “Bartowski.”
Chuck returned his handshake. “Sorry about those two.”
“Chuck.” Amanda pulled him down for a hug. “Where’s Sarah?”
“I’m right here,” Sarah Walker answered, coming up beside Chuck.
Amanda gave her a hug. “I understand congratulations are you order. We’re so happy for you two.”
Sarah smiled at Chuck and he returned her smile.
“We’re sorry to hear about your daughter. What can we do to help?” Sarah asked them. “Chuck and I will do everything in our power to help you locate her.”
“Thanks, Sarah.” Amanda then turned to Lee. “I think I might have a possible lead on who may have taken Emily.”
“That’s great. Since we're all here, let’s head down to Castle and discuss what we know so far,” Chuck said leading them all toward the secret entrance to the underground base.
*****
The man stood on his yacht overlooking the clear blue water. Nearly a ripple, this far out, the water was like a sheet of glass. They had dropped anchor out in the Pacific Ocean about an hour ago and now bright sunlight reflected off the deep sea. He turned when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs.
His assistant stood in front of him gripping a girl tightly by her arm. She struggled against his grasp. Her head covered by a black canvas hood was soon removed. Her soft brown curls fell framing her face. She was a vision of beauty. His heart hammered in his chest and he thought he might just have to keep her for himself or at least have some fun with her. He sat down on the sofa, poured himself a glass of champagne, and took a sip.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Stetson.”
Her eyes blinked from the bright sunlight and he watched her try to get her bearings.
She put her hand to her head; he knew she had a headache, probably from the chloroform and maybe a little seasickness.
"Who are you?” she asked him.
He patted the leather-cushioned seat next to him. “Why don’t we get comfortable.”
She looked up at the powerful muscular man next to her. He was dressed casually, weighed approximately 230 pounds easily, and had no neck. She then looked back at her host. Defiantly, she shook her head. “Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?”
“In due time.” He took another sip of champagne and smiled at her. Then he raked his hand through his graying hair and crossed his legs. “I strongly advise you to cooperate."
"What is it you want me to do?" Wariness was evident in her voice.
He shrugged lightly. "Just do what you're told." He lifted the champagne bottle. “Now come sit down and get comfortable.”
The second man shoved her toward the sofa and she reluctantly sat down.
The man reached out and caressed her cheek. “Delicate skin.” A smile slowly spread across his face. “Very delicate skin, so much like your mother.”
She flinched, recoiling away from him.
“Would you like some?” He poured her a glass, not letting her answer.
She hesitantly took the glass from him.
He clinked his glass to hers. “Let’s drink to old friendships and new beginnings.” Then he took a drink, eyeing her closely. “Maybe I should introduce myself, the name is Robert. . . ”
*****
“. . . Sinclair,” Amanda told Lee and Team Bartowski.
Lee struggled for breath, and felt tightness in his chest, then finally managed to choke out, “Is he out?”
Chuck punched a few buttons and the General’s face appeared again on the monitor screen.
She pivoted around in her chair and removed her glasses. “Yes, Agent Bartowski.”
“We think we have a line on who may have taken Emily Stetson.”
She glanced around the room, noticing the Stetsons. “I thought I told you to stay out!” She paused, and then softened her tone. “However, I guess if I were in your shoes, I couldn’t either. Go ahead, Chuck.”
“Lee and Amanda had an old nemesis by the name of Robert Sinclair.”
The General put her glasses back on and hit a few keys on her laptop. “Human trafficking ring, I see.” She went back to looking at the screen. “Federal prison. . . time served. Yes, he was released six months ago. His parole officer lost contact with him four weeks ago.” She took off her glasses, placed her hands on the desk, and leaned forward. “Lee, Amanda whatever resources you need are available for your disposal. I will not tolerate this sort of crime, and I don’t appreciate any one going after one of our own. I want this man stopped. Welcome to Team Bartowski.”
An hour later, the team sat around the conference table inside Castle. Morgan directed everyone sitting around the table to the bank of television screens where images flashed across the monitors. “Sirs, Madams, the State Department estimates there are 180,000 to 200,000 thousand people trafficked across international borders each year. Many are forced into modern day slavery, forced marriages, prostitution, labor, domestic servitude—” he cleared his throat and diverted his eyes.
“It's okay, Morgan, go on,” Amanda told him.
“Yes, well.” He played with his tie clip. “Sometimes sexual exploitation or they are drugged, starved, raped or beaten into submission. Often threats are made against their own lives or family members to keep them in line. On occasion trafficking is done for involuntary organ harvest.”
Lee gripped the edge of the table. “I should have killed him when I had the chance.”
Amanda put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We’ll find her.”
Lee nodded his head, but could not make eye contact with his wife. “Go on, Mr. Grimes.”
“Traffickers are. . . members of highly sophisticated networks of organized crime. . . Women or children are frequently ‘sold’ at trade shows by a commodities broker. . . It’s big business, producing $9 billion a year, worldwide.”
All the television screens stopped flickering various images and stopped on a mugshot of Robert Sinclair.
“What makes you believe it's this Sinclair character?” Casey asked them.
“Back in 1984, he grabbed Amanda,” Lee said. The muscle in his jaw began to pulsate. To this day, he still had difficulties admitting the depth at which he had been frightened for Amanda when he'd discovered someone had wanted to ‘sell’ her. He thought about how close he had come to losing her and the stupid, petty argument they had only a few moments earlier before her attempted abduction. Not long after they were married, he asked her to throw away the ‘Hot Momma’ t-shirt because of the guilt associated with it.
“How does he operate?” Sarah inquired, breaking him from his reverie.
“He’s a real model citizen,” Amanda said. “Often involved in local charities and he’s a big donor, allowing him access to the events and people. This is where he scopes out potential victims and how I came to know him the last time. He was working with a charity organization raising money for service dogs where I volunteered. He managed to snatch my friend, Gail Taylor and me. If it hadn’t been for Lee—” fighting against her emotions, she choked back a sob.
Lee pulled his wife against him, comforting her. “We need to focus on local charities in the area and have someone pose as a potential buyer making contact with Sinclair and his cronies.”
Chuck stood up and straightened his tie. “I guess it’s time to bring in Carmichael. . . Charles Carmichael.”
*****
Chuck and Casey entered the lobby of the Hotel Madison and walked over to the registration table outside the ‘Sugar Pine’ conference room. A voluptuous woman ran her hands through her long, reddish hair, and chewed on the end of a pen while she sat behind the table taking registrations.
“Hello, boys,” she said to Chuck and Casey when it was their turn to register. “Welcome to Heart and Soul Charity Event.”
“Hello, Ms. Keegan,” Chuck replied after reading her nametag. “My name is Charles Carmichael.”
“Call me Marge.” She winked. “Carmichael,” she repeated, running her finger down the list of names. “Yes, here you are, Mr. Carmichael. Now, will there be a Mrs. Carmichael joining you?” She handed him an information packet and name tag.
“I’m not married,” he said, placing the sticky name tag on his lapel.
“Such a shame.” She pouted her lips and then turned her attention to Casey. “What’s your story, Big Fella?”
Casey's only response was an incoherent noise in the back of his throat.
Chuck slapped Casey on the back. “You have to forgive my friend, he’s a little shy. He’s single too.”
“Is that a fact?” She extended her long, perfectly manicured fingers at him and grabbed his hand, holding on firmly. “Do you have a name, ‘Too Shy’?”
He pulled his hand back. “John Casey.”
She searched the list of names. “Yes, Casey, John.” She winked at him. “John’s such a strong name for a man,” she emphasized the last word. She reached across the table to place his name tag above his suit jacket pocket. Her large bosoms almost fell out of her low-cut dress. “Oopsie,” she said, pushing them back in place. “I swear sometimes the ‘girls’ have a mind of their own.” She giggled, handing him a pamphlet. “Glad you boys could join us and hope to see you around.” She winked at them again and giggled some more.
“Have anything for shark bite?” Casey whispered to Chuck after they turned to enter the conference room. Large buffet tables were set up in the middle of the room with an enormous ice sculpture carved in the shape of a heart on the center table. Men and women were mingling around the bar, buffet and serving tables. Chuck briefly nodded to Sarah who was dressed in a banquet staff uniform. She had on a short black mini-skirt, white dress shirt and a gold-colored vest and bow tie. She turned her attention to the patrons in the room. Chuck and Casey walked over to the bar.
“What can I get you gentleman?” The man attending the bar asked them.
“Chardonnay, please,” Chuck answered.
“And you, Sir?” The bartender asked Casey.
“Just a Coke.”
“Chardonnay and a Coke coming right up.”
Chuck read the front of the pamphlet. “Heart and Soul.”
“Is it a legitimate organization?” Casey asked.
Chuck nodded his head. “I believe it was started by a mother who lost her son from a heart attack or something. . . “
“Yes, a real sad story,” Chuck heard a voice say from behind him and felt a hand on his shoulder.
The man extended his other hand to him. “Robert Sinclair, I’m the organizer and sponsor of the group.”
Chuck returned the handshake. “Charles Carmichael, Carmichael Industries, and my personal executive assistant, John Casey.”
Sinclair then shook Casey’s hand and turned his attention back to Chuck. “Thank you for coming to our fundraiser gala. As I was saying, our organization was founded by Debbie Shepherd whose son, Dwight, went into sudden cardiac arrest during a high school football game and died before paramedics could get to him. The money raised by this charity will be providing an important service. Our goal at Heart and Soul is to purchase enough defibrillators for every high school in the nation and to train personnel how to use them properly, potentially saving the lives of students, teachers, and staff.”
“A noble cause,” Chuck told him.
Casey nodded his head in agreement.
“Yes, we believe so.”
“Your drinks,” the bartender said, returning with their beverages.
Chuck removed his money clip from his inside suit pocket to pay for the drinks.
He noticed Sinclair’s eyes widened in surprise when he saw the large wad of cash. The man smiled, obviously enthusiastic about earning money for the charity. “No need for that, this is an open bar.” He slapped Chuck on the shoulder. “However, I hope you brought your checkbook?”
“Yes, of course.” He motioned for Casey to open his briefcase and take out a check ledger. He then leaned over the table to sign the check and handed it to Sinclair.
“Ten-Thousand dollars. A very generous offer. We thank you.” He folded the check and slipped it into his left breast pocket.
Sarah walked up to the three gentlemen carrying a large tray. “Hors d'oeuvre?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Sinclair said, grabbing the bite-sized appetizer. “Smoked mozzarella profiterole.” He stuffed it into his mouth and licked his lips while sizing up Sarah.
Chuck noticed Sinclair eyeing her up and down, and then continued to check her out as she walked away and worked the room. His eyes were drinking in the sight of her when she bent over to pick up a napkin dropped on the floor.
“Real nice,” he mumbled under his breath. “Mr. Carmichael, what business are you in?”
“I’m an import/export broker,” Chuck said, taking a mouthful of wine. The wine boasted a toasty, buttery characteristic in both the aroma and flavor.
“Did a little import/export business myself, back in the day. What do you specialize in?”
Chuck nodded. “Mostly mergers and acquisitions, but I am interested in—” he glanced around the room and lowered his voice. “Commodities. I understand you are the man to see about purchasing merchandise.”
Sinclair called the attention of the bartender. “Dave, gin and tonic, please.”
“Right away, Mr. Sinclair.” The eager bartender poured the gin and the tonic water into a highball glass filled with ice cubes and, after stirring, he garnished it with a lime wedge and placed the drink on the counter.
Sinclair took a leisurely sip and then turned around to talk to his guests. “Sorry. I’m no longer in that line of work.”
Chuck raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
Sinclair shook his head and moved his finger back and forth on the rim of his glass. “Twenty-six years in the slammer can change a man. Some let hate consume them and think nothing but revenge and it destroys them, while others go back to school or learn a trade. Then in my case, some of us find religion. I accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior. He took upon my sins and forgave me. . . ”
Meanwhile, out in the surveillance van, parked on the street around the corner of the hotel, Lee paced the narrow aisle like a caged animal, while Amanda sat trying to listen to the exchange inside. She gave up, laying the headphones down on the table. “Lee, this isn’t helping. Please sit down. You’re making me dizzy.”
He took a seat in the chair next to Amanda, she turned on the overhead speakers and through the transceiver, they both heard the conversation between Chuck, Casey and Sinclair. Sinclair’s voice filled the van “. . . he lead me out of the darkness and into the light. Now I only serve God and my fellowmen. Metaphorically speaking, I am no longer blind.”
Lee’s fist slammed into the metal table and he stood up. “Just wait until I get my hands on you, Sinclair. You won’t need to fake blindness after I gouge your eyes out. He then punched the van wall panel. “Better yet, I’ll remove another part of your anatomy.” He gripped his wrist, which began to sting.
Amanda rose quickly and flipped one of the switches on the control panel turning off the speaker, then walked over to him, grabbing his hands and held them to her side to prevent him from doing more damage to his hands or the van. “Lee.”
“Amanda,” he pleaded. “The S.O.B. has our daughter. I’m going in there and throttling him until he gives up her location.” He twisted, releasing her grip on him and took a step toward the rear door. “I’m not sitting on my thumbs anymore.”
She grabbed him again and turned him so he was facing her, then ran her hands up his chest and down his arm, swiftly handcuffing him to the metal table that was bolted to the van floor. “Stay in the van!”
Lee reached his uncuffed hand toward his shirt collar stay.
“And you can forget about your half rake.” She held it up for him to see. “I have it.”
“A-man-da!” he said, clearly agitated. He tried to lift his cuffed wrist only to be stopped by the metal links and jerked his hand back a couple of times.
Amanda glared at him. “You don’t think I’m aware he has her? You don’t think I want him as much as you do. I want our daughter back home, too. Nevertheless, we need to let Chuck, Casey and Sarah do their jobs and not blow their covers. We can’t afford for Sinclair to recognize us or we may never find Emily. In addition, this is not only about her or us, but stopping a human trafficking ring.”
Lee stared at her in disbelief, and then slowly nodded his head; subsequently he lowered himself back down into the chair. “I can’t believe you cuffed me.”
Amanda cast Lee a sideways glance and then turned her attention back to the transceiver, listening into the conversation once again. . .
“. . . Dinner will be served at 6:00pm and Mrs. Shepherd will be a special guest speaker. In the meantime, enjoy the reception and open bar,” she heard Sinclair say. A few moments later, she heard Chuck’s voice, “Lee, Amanda, did you catch all that?”
“We heard it all, Chuck,” Amanda answered. “Do you think he took the bait?”
Chuck held his finger to his ear, touching the earpiece, and then spoke into the intercom on his wristwatch. “I’d say hook, line and sinker the way he was undressing Sarah with his eyes. What about our act?”
“If I know Sinclair, he’s checking out your identities now,” Lee said. “The trap’s been laid, now all you need to do is to make sure you get invited to the next trade show.”
Back inside the hotel banquet room, Sinclair took a sip of his drink as he watched Chuck and Casey walk away. A moment later, the powerful muscled man stood beside Sinclair. “We might have a potential buyer, Tony.” He removed the check from his pocket and read the name. “Carmichael Industries. Check out their story.”
“And if they’re cops?”
“Kill them.”
The henchman began to walk away, but Sinclair grabbed him by the arm and motioned toward Sarah. “Bring her into the family.”
*****
Sarah walked through the dark parking garage headed toward her Porsche. The sound of her patent leather heels hitting the asphalt bounced off the concrete walls. She held her keys in one hand and pushed the key remote. The car beeped twice and the parking lights flashed. She arrived at her car and reached for the door handle when she suddenly felt a presence. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught movement in the driver-side door mirror. She swung around. Her immediate instinct was to fight back, knowing she could easily kill the two men who were attacking her. Going against all her training, she willingly let her captors outmaneuver her, and soon the sweet smell of chloroform filled her nostrils. Her head felt fuzzy and she lost all strength. The last thing she observed was a black van rolling up to them, and the side panel door sliding open, before darkness crept into her vision and total blackness enveloped her world.
*****
Echo Park - Chuck and Sarah’s Apartment
“Are you sure we’re doing the right thing allowing Sarah to be kidnapped?” Chuck asked.
“Walker’s a big girl, she can take care of herself,” Casey told him. “Just be sure when Sinclair calls you tell him you are interested in previewing the auction. Don’t take no for an answer.”
Chuck nodded his head.
Amanda and Lee were sitting across from each other at the dining room table listening to Casey and Chuck.
“You’re taking a big risk letting one of your team members get snatched like that. . . too many variables,” Lee said.
“Did you have a better idea?” Chuck lashed out, clearly worried himself.
Lee stood up and thrust his hands deep into his pants pockets. “I need some fresh air.” He walked to the front door, stepped outside, strode over to the courtyard fountain and sat down.
“Daddy. Daddy,” he heard his young daughter in a far-off memory cry.
She ran into his arms and he picked her up and tossed her into the air. She squealed in delight. “I drew a picture for you in school today. Want to see?”
“Can we keep it, please Daddy?” She held up a tiny black and white ball of fluff and looked at him with pleading brown eyes—the same eyes as his Amanda.
“Dad, can I borrow the car?”
“Guess what?” She held up the college application letter. ”I was accepted to Stanford. Thanks for believing in me.”
He pulled her into a bear hug. “Love you, Emily.”
“I love you, too, Dad.”
His shoulders slumped and he laid his head in his hands in a moment of quiet desperation.
Meanwhile, back inside the apartment Amanda said, “Chuck, Lee didn’t mean anything by his remark. He’s worried for Sarah, as much as he is for Emily.”
The room was soon filled with a loud beeping noise.
“That’s Walker. She’s turned on the tracking device.” Casey turned on the television set in the living room and a large map of the greater Los Angeles area appeared on the screen. “Like a rat to the cheese, the slime-ball took the bait.”
“Where is she?” Amanda stood up from the dining room table and turned her attention to the screen.
Casey looked up from the monitor and replied, “The GPS tracking device has them near the warehouse district at the moment.”
Amanda walked over to the door and momentarily stepped outside to inform Lee what was happening and they both came back into the living room. All the agents gathered around the couch, watching the monitor.
A green blip on the screen continued to move. “We know exactly where she is and soon, we’ll know where they plan on taking her,” Casey smugly answered. At that very moment, the monitor flickered a couple times and then went blank.
“Damn!”
“What?” Chuck said as he hurled himself over the couch.
“I don’t know. Somehow we lost the signal.”
“What?” Chuck stared at Casey incredulously.
“See for yourself. The signal’s no longer there.”
“Computer malfunction or are they jamming us?”
“How would I know? You’re the computer geek, now fix it.”
Chuck’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “It’s gone. What did you do, Casey?”
“Nothing.”
“What do you mean nothing? You must have done something?”
“Really Bartowski, I did nothing. You were right here when the screen flickered and then went blank.”
Lee let out a shrill whistle getting everyone in the room’s attention. They all turned around to look at him.
“Would you two quit bickering? You’re almost as bad as Phillip and Jamie.”
Ashamed, Chuck and Casey nodded their heads.
“Good. Now, do you happen to have a map, Chuck?”
“A map?”
“Yes, you know long before MapQuest and GPS, we used maps.”
“I think there might be one in my bedroom.” He pointed down the hallway.
Lee hurried down the hall and into Chuck’s room and then a few seconds later returned. He opened the Rand McNally Road Atlas book and laid it out on the dining room table. “This is why I hate computers,” he mumbled under his breath. “What was her last location before the signal was lost?”
“Near the warehouse district,” Casey answered.
Lee traced his index finger to the section of the map of California. “Yes, makes perfect sense.”
Amanda put her arm around him and looked over his shoulder. “What makes perfect sense?”
He pointed to the Pacific Ocean. “Not far from the warehouse district are several marinas.”
“Call the coast guard,” Amanda piped in. “And check records for recent yacht purchases, although he changes the name of the ship frequently and is constantly on the move, never staying in one place for long.”
“Don’t know why I didn’t think of it before, leopards never change their spots,” Lee said.
“Can you two fill the rest of the class in?” Casey asked.
“Sinclair has a penchant for luxurious boats. He’s probably hiding Emily and Sarah on his yacht.”
*****
On the top deck of the yacht, Robert Sinclair reclined back on the chaise lounger enjoying the heat from the early afternoon sun on his face. He pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head, picked up the business card lying on the side table, followed by the mobile phone, and punched in the number on the card.
Back at Chuck and Sarah’s apartment, the team assembled in the room. Chuck’s cell phone rang and Chuck, noticing it was an unknown number slid the phone over to Amanda. She answered it in a slightly nasal voice. “Carmichael Industries. How may I direct your call? Yes, Mr. Sinclair. Let me see if Mr. Carmichael is available to answer your call. Could you hold for one moment, please?”
“Yes, I'll hold.”
Amanda put the phone on hold and slid it back toward Chuck.
“Mr. Sinclair,” Chuck said, finding his voice, he then put the phone on speaker. “To what do I owe this pleasure? I hope there was no problem with the check.”
“No, no problem,” he replied with a quick laugh. “However, there’s another business matter I would like to talk to you about.”
“Go ahead. I’m listening.”
“There’s an upcoming trade show and I was wondering if you would like your name added to the guest list?”
“You don’t say. I thought you told me you are no longer in that line of work.”
“I apologize; I needed to check you out first. . . to verify you aren’t with the Feds.”
“The Feds.” Chuck laughed apprehensively. “So, what is the verdict?”
“You’re clean.”
“Good. Then I would like a private preview of the show.”
“That is not how I do business.”
“How do you do things, Mr. Sinclair?”
“I fill the orders by scoping cultured women who visit my fundraisers. When I find someone whom I think fits the client’s needs and description, I take her picture and email it off. If you like what you see, make me an offer.” He reached over to the end table and grabbed a portfolio. He opened the album and looked over the photos of his current inventory. “However, special clients are given first right of refusal and the rest are sold in private auctions.”
“Very intriguing." Chuck paused for a moment trying not to appear too eager. “And what do I have to do to become a preferred customer? I want to make a purchase this evening.”
“This evening, hmm? Is there something in particular you are looking for?”
"I'm a very picky man, Mr. Sinclair."
"I assure you Mr. Carmichael I have a wide selection.”
“Alright.” Chuck pretended to think for a minute. "Tall. Thin. Shoulder-length hair. Young.”
“How young? I’m not into kiddie porn or jail bait. However, I know who to hook you up with if that is the sort of thing you are into.”
Chuck coughed and stammered, “No. No. Not that young.”
“Of course.”
“Early to mid-twenties. I’m thinking 5’7” to 5’9.”
Sinclair nodded his head, although he knew the party on the other end could not see him nod. “Go on.”
“Brunette.”
“Brunette, really?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“You come across more as a gentleman who prefers blondes.”
Chuck spread his hands nimbly over the dining room table and silently drummed his long fingers. He looked around the room at the other agents and noticing Casey nodding his head, he continued, “I’m a very busy man and could use companionship on my next business trip. Do you have someone in mind?”
Sinclair was silent for a moment.
“Mr. Sinclair.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Carmichael. I had someone who might have worked, but she’s already. . . how should I say this. . . taken.”
Amanda gasped and then threw her hand over her mouth.
Not hearing the disturbance, Sinclair continued, “Cute, young, brunette. However, she was already sold to a Frenchman.”
Chuck glanced around the room and noticed Casey holding up three fingers. “I’ll pay three times his price,” he quickly chimed in.
“Three times, huh?”
“Yes. And if she is what I am looking for I guarantee I will pay a handsome finder's fee.”
Sinclair rubbed his chin and leaned back. He had a speculative look on his face.
Chuck continued, “That is, if she hasn’t left the country yet.”
Sinclair was silent again. The wheels inside his brain turning.
“Are you still there?” Chuck asked.
“Yes. Yes, I’m here. Today’s your lucky day, Mr. Carmichael.”
“Good. Now, is she healthy? If she's damaged goods, I will have to drop the price."
“I can assure you; she is in perfect health.”
Lee and Amanda exchanged a relieved glance.
“Do you want to view her first? I could email you a picture.”
“Actually,” he replied with a sheepish grin. “I would prefer to sample the goods.”
Sinclair flashed a wolfish smirk to his lackeys. “I have a couple ladies who I’m sure would be more than willing to entertain. I’ll have my driver pick you up. . . let’s say six o’clock?”
“Six o’clock sounds good. You may pick me and my personal executive assistant up at the front entrance of the Winter Garden Hotel and Suites.”
“I would prefer you come alone.”
“Do you want to be paid?” Chuck said firmly.
“Fine.” Sinclair hung up the phone and turned to his men. "Tony, why don't you bring our two guests up on deck? I think I might have to check the blonde out, since it appears brunettes are in.” He chuckled softly. “Oh well, I don’t plan on keeping her long.”
*****
Sarah came back to awareness slowly, her body still aching from the earlier assault. Rolling off the bed, she tried to stand. She felt so dizzy she couldn't even see straight, and she felt like her head was going to explode from the pressure. Stumbling to the door, she checked the handle.
“It’s locked,” she heard a voice say.
Sarah spun around noticing for the first time another figure in the room with her. She shook her head a few times, trying to loosen the cobwebs in her mind. "Who's there?" she asked hesitantly. Finally, she made out the figure of another woman, about 5 foot, 9 inches with curly, dark brown, shoulder-length hair. “Emily?”
“Who wants to know?”
“My name is Sarah Walker. I’m with the CIA and friends of your parents.”
“Mom and Dad are here?”
Sarah nodded her head.
“Thank God.”
At that moment, the door opened and a stream of light flooded the small room. Mr. Sinclair’s big, muscular assistant entered the room touting a semi-automatic machine gun and addressed them, "Okay, ladies you’re going to come with me, but first put these on.” He tossed a couple of bikinis onto the table.
The man didn’t leave.
“Do you mind?” Sarah snapped. “We’d like some privacy.”
The man’s lips curved into a smile and he winked. “I’ll be right outside the door if either one of you ladies needs any help.” He then left the room and shut the door behind him.
Sarah picked up the bathing suit and began to undress.
“What are you doing?” asked Emily.
“I’m killing time until reinforcements arrive. Just do what he says and we’ll be okay.”
“How would you like to be a hero? Be able to contribute to the strength and security of the United States. Your Mom and Dad were the best team the Agency ever had. The CIA could use you,” Emily mumbled under her breath.
“Huh?”
“Nothing, just remembering the recruitment speech I received.”
Sarah nodded her head in understanding. “Do you know why you are here, Emily?”
“I believe the animal runs a human trafficking ring.”
“That’s correct.”
“He plans to sell us to the highest bidder. He told me, he ‘provides a delicate service to lonely, but very wealthy men’.”
“The bastard.” Sarah reached around her back to tie off the top piece of the bathing suit.
Then Emily finished getting dressed. The skimpy two-piece bathing suit left nothing to the imagination. The icy ball that had been in the pit of her stomach since the moment she'd been snatched from her hotel room began to grow. She leaned her back against the wall and slid down, doing everything she could to hold back the tears glistening in her eyes, but slowly her lower lip began to tremble and the tears began to fall.
“Hey, none of that.” Sarah walked over to Emily and put her hand on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry.” She used the back of her hand to wipe away her tears. “I’m not being very professional, am I? This is not how trainee agents are supposed to behave.”
“I know plenty of seasoned professionals who get scared. Now, let me see if I can get the ‘brute squad’ to bring us some makeup and hair products, okay?”
Emily smiled at her. “Okay.”
*****
Robert Sinclair leaned against the rail from the upper deck of his yacht, gazing out to sea watching the first golden rays from the sun set low in the sky, slowly dipping below the watery horizon. Hearing a noise behind him, he turned to gaze at his two guests who his henchman, Aaron, had led up to the floor. His eyes drank in the sight of them. They were a vision of loveliness and beauty. They were both dressed in two-piece bathing suits and had a Sarong wrapped around their hips. After a moment's consideration, he gave a reluctant sigh. Most likely he had lost out on the brunette to this Carmichael character, but the blond he wouldn’t have to sell right away. A sinister smile slowly crept across his face as he thought about what he could do with her.
“Ladies, so glad you could join me this evening.”
Sarah glanced around the deck noticing a glass-top table setup elegantly with fine china and silver, a lace tablecloth, and a bottle of Pinot Noir. The deck itself was surrounded with candles and cylinder vases filled with floral arrangements including pink roses, red tulips, purple Mokara orchids, light-blue hyacinth, and bluish-violet sea lavender. The intoxicating smells permeated her senses. Sarah also couldn’t help but notice there were four place settings. She observed Sinclair walk over to the table, and, lifting the bottle of wine, he turned to pop the cork and then poured a little into the glasses. Grinning, he motioned to them to join him. “Sit down ladies.”
“No, not until you tell us what this is about,” Sarah said boldly.
Sinclair’s expression turned serious. “Entertainment. Nothing more.” He paused, smiled and then continued, “—at the moment. However, you will be entertaining our guest tonight and I hope I won’t have to drug you to earn your cooperation.” He pointed to the mini-bar where Aaron stood watch, his arms folded across his chest. The bar held not only various liquor bottles, but also drug paraphernalia. “If you cooperate, things will go much smoother for both of you.”
Squeezing Emily’s hand to reassure her, although she had to admit she was worried herself, wondering where her fiancé and the rest of her team were, Sarah took a tentative step forward.
Sinclair pulled out a chair for her. "You look enchanting, especially in this light.” He briefly closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply the exhilarating scent of Sarah's hair. Then he pulled out a chair for Emily.
Emily swallowed hard, but obliged him and sat down.
He then sat down himself, placing a napkin on his lap. “I hope you ladies like grilled salmon, baked potatoes, and garden salad with a light vinaigrette dressing, and a side of cheesy garlic bread.”
The hair on the back of Sarah’s neck prickled, but she forced a smile. “Sounds delicious.”
A second later, there was a commotion on the deck, Sarah turned around in her chair and saw Chuck and Casey standing topside. Their heads were covered. Tony then removed their hoods.
Sinclair stood up and walked over to the men. “I apologize for that, but our little operation needs to stay anonymous.”
“Quite all right, I guess,” Chuck said, finding his voice. He glanced over at Sarah, caught her eye and briefly nodded. Sarah smiled back at him; relief shown on her face.
Sinclair shook Casey’s hand. “Mr. Casey, you are welcome to stay on deck if you like. Aaron would be happy to mix you a drink.”
Casey stepped toward the bar. “Ah, just a Coke, if you have one?”
“Sure I can’t make you a Shirley Temple?” Aaron laughed, and winked at him, then turned his back and removed a can of Coke from the refrigerator and placed it on the bar.
“Thanks,” Casey grumbled, popping the soda can open.
“Mr. Carmichael or may I call you Charles?”
“Charles is fine.”
“Charles, I would like to introduce you to your date this evening.” He motioned for Emily to stand up. “Emily. Stand up, Girl. Give Charles a gander at the merchandise.”
Emily looked over at Sarah and she gave her a reassuring nod. Obliging, she stood up and turned around slowly.
“Do you like what you see?”
“Yes. Yes, very much,” Chuck said, trying to fight the bile in the back of his throat.
“Won’t you join us for dinner?” Sinclair straightened his tie and then sat back down. “We can discuss terms after our meal.”
Chuck sat down at the table next to Emily. Nervously, he lifted the wine glass to his lips and took a sip.
Meanwhile, Lee and Amanda sat in a nondescript sedan in the parking lot of the Harbor Point Marina. Seagulls greedily scavenged for food while Amanda looked through high-powered binoculars at the various yachts and boats moored at their slips. “I see them.”
Lee squinted into the setting sun. “Where?”
“Fourteenth berth from the left.”
Using his own binoculars, Lee spotted the yacht, too. “Got it.” He opened the car door, stepped outside and turned toward Amanda.
“Don’t even think about telling me to stay in the car, Stetson.”
“I won’t dream of it, Dear.” Lee then walked around to the other side of the car, opened the door and leaned inside. “Call the authorities tell them we are at the Harbor Point Marina and the yacht’s name is the Sand Piper.”
All of a sudden, Lee heard the sound of a Glock 9mm slide, felt a large muscular hand grasp his upper arm, and the cool steel barrel of a gun shoved into his ribs.
“Nice and easy,” the deep-voiced man said.
Lee held up his hands.
“You too, Lady.” He motioned to Amanda with the gun.
Amanda slid out of her seat and raised her hands up in the air.
“You realize kidnapping federal agents is a serious crime, don’t you? Where are you taking us? You want us to walk over to the Sand Piper berth?” she questioned in a rather loud voice.
Lee gave her a brief sideways glance and arched an eyebrow.
“Shut up and move,” the henchman told them, shoving them both forward. He glanced around the parking area making sure no one else was around. Satisfied, he led them toward the gates into the marina. Then punched the code into the keypad and swung open the access gate and motioned for them both to go through the chain link entrance.
Having no desire for him or his wife to be shot, Lee stumbled down the aluminum-framed platform. They continued walking down the dock until they reached the berth, then they walked up the gangplank, onto the vessel, and finally to the upper deck.
Sinclair’s eyes widened in surprise.
Seeing the gun pressed into Lee’s side, Chuck stood up and threw down his napkin. "May I inquire as to the meaning of all this?”
“Sit down and shut up, Mr. Carmichael. If that is really your name?” He made sure Aaron and Tony had guns trained on all his guests. “Now, Mr. Casey, if you would kindly step away from the bar.”
Casey grunted, but complied.
Chuck glanced around the deck. “Again, I must ask, what is the meaning of this?”
“You take me for a fool. You honestly think I would believe your cover story when Lee and Amanda Stetson show up just a few minutes after you arrive?” Sinclair then took a step toward Amanda. “Why Amanda, nice to see you again.” Coming up behind her, he put his arm around her waist, pulling her close and pressed her against him. He cupped the underside of her breast and inhaled her sweet fragrance. “What beautiful perfume you are wearing.” He then turned her around to look at her. “Still as stunning as I remember.”
“Why you son of a—” Lee spit out.
Sinclair motioned for Tony to grab Lee and he grasped him from behind by the arms.
Lee struggled to free himself. “Just wait until I get my hands on you. I’ll kill you.”
“Temper. Temper, Mr. Stetson.” Sinclair glided his hand down Amanda’s cheek, grabbed her chin, and forced her to look into his eyes. “Looks like I get a two for one deal on both Stetson women.”
“What do you want us to do with the men, Boss?” Tony asked.
“Kill them.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Kill them all.”
“Gladly.” Sinclair’s man pointed his weapon at Lee’s head.
A flash immediately enveloped Chuck’s senses. Fighting stances, diagrams, and techniques exploded in his mind. He blinked a couple of times, while his vision shifted into focus, and then briefly nodded to his team before throwing the first punch connecting straight across Tony’s jaw. Lee broke free from the grip and ducked.
Chuck swung a second punch knocking the gun out of his hand. Tony staggered, but quickly recovering, he swung at Chuck. However, Chuck bent backward and felt his knuckles swish past his nose. Successfully blocking another strike, he then grabbed the assailant’s fist and twisted his arm, flipping him. Chuck then turned the man over and pressing his knee into his back, he cuffed him.
When the fighting started, Amanda quickly stomped on Sinclair’s foot and then shoved him backwards. She rushed over to Emily dragging her away from the skirmish. She pulled Emily close to her, crouching down; they hid around the corner by the navigation bridge.
Meanwhile, Casey lunged, tackling Aaron against the bar. Aaron recovered and punched Casey in the mouth, splitting Casey’s lip. Casey wiped the blood from his mouth with his hand, and then punched the henchman in the gut. Aaron made contact again hitting him hard enough to knock him off balance and he fell against the counter. Aaron put his hands around Casey’s neck. Casey reached for something to use as a weapon, picked up a bottle of gin, and hit his assailant over the head. Glass shattered with a thundering crash, the man crumpled to the deck floor, out cold.
“Shirley Temple this,” Casey said, turning the man over and placing a maraschino cherry on his closed lips.
The Captain of the Sand Piper came running up the stairs from the lower deck, gun blazing; however, Sarah turned at the sound, leapt to her feet, and with a flying roundhouse kick to his lower back, she sent him sprawling over the rail of the yacht. He splashed into the water.
Lee grabbed Sinclair by the arm spinning him around and then threw him across the table. The contents of the table flew in every direction. Sinclair recovered and kicked Lee off him and made connection to Lee’s gut, temporarily knocking the wind out of him.
Sinclair was about to make contact again, when Lee dove into him. He staggered back against the table a second time. Lee punched him hard, and then punched him again knocking him out. Lee raised his fist for a third time, when Amanda leapt to her feet and ran to Lee, grabbing his arm. "Lee!"
He stared at her; his eyes expressionless.
"Lee, that's enough," she admonished him, as she shook him.
Lee then focused on her and looked around the deck, noticing the fighting was over, he began to relax.
Soon a United States Coast Guard boat arrived on scene and fished the captain out of the water and Guardsmen rushed the yacht carrying assault rifles. A Coast Guard helicopter hovered over the scene.
“Everyone freeze!” yelled the Chief Petty Officer.
"Colonel John Casey, NSA.” John told them, holding up his federal ID.
The Chief Petty Officer took the leather case from Casey and examined the ID. “What’s the story, Colonel?”
Casey grunted. "Kidnapping, smuggling, human trafficking, take your pick."
Lee then picked Sinclair off the table by his shirt and shoved him toward one of the guardsmen.
Sinclair and his men were gathered and then escorted off the yacht.
Glad to see the chaos over and relieved her parents were safe, yet still visually shaken Emily stood up. “Mom, Dad.” She ran into her parents waiting arms, while Sarah found a blanket, and wrapped it around Emily’s shoulders.
“Thanks again, Bartowski.” Lee extended his free hand toward Chuck.
“You're welcome.” Chuck returned the gesture and then pulled Sarah toward him. “Are you okay?”
“Perfect. I’m just glad I have you to save me.”
He smiled at her, his deep brown eyes twinkling. “You’ll always have me, Sarah.”
"Good." She stretched up to kiss him and their lips met briefly.
"Ugh." Casey made a disgusted sound, rolled his eyes, and stepped away from the couple.
*****
Epilogue
Inside Castle, the whole gang sat around the conference table listening to the General who appeared on the monitor. “Lee, Amanda, Team Bartowski, you saved a lot of people from falling victim to human trafficking. I’m happy to report the rest of the women have been found and reunited with their families, and Sinclair and his men will be spending a long, long time in prison for their crimes.”
“Too bad we can't sell Sinclair off just like he was selling those women,” Casey mumbled while closing the case file that lay in front of him.
“I offer congratulations on a job done well.” General Beckman looked like she was about to turn off the communication link, when she paused, and leaned forward. “Emily Stetson.”
“General Beckman.” Emily shifted in her seat and sat up a little straighter in her chair.
“You handled yourself well, especially for a spy in training. I realize that something like this so early in your career may make you re-evaluate your decision to join the team. Please take your time and decide what you would like to do and get back to me with your verdict.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
General Beckman gave an affirmative nod and then the screen changed to the blue background with the CIA logo.
Casey, Chuck and Sarah stood up from the conference table, headed separate ways going about other duties to begin their workday. Lee stood up and put a hand on Emily’s shoulder. Amanda who was sitting next to Emily put her hand on her daughter’s thigh.
"Emily, when we found out it was you who was missing, you had your mother and I scared to death."
“I’m sorry, Dad.”
“We wished you had come to us first when you were recruited. It really was a decision we would have discussed as a family.” Lee wagged his fingers between the three of them.
Emily slowly nodded her head. “How would you feel about having another spy in the family?”
Lee smiled at her. “I’m not going to lie to you, I would much rather you take a nice safe job teaching kindergartners than being an intelligence operative; however, it’s in your blood. It’s a part of who you are and you are the best of both your mom and I, and we couldn’t be any more proud.”
Emily stood up to hug her dad, and then bent down to hug her mom. “I love you, guys.”
“We love you, Em,” Amanda told her.
“Incidentally, how did the Coast Guard know where to find us?”
Lee pointed to Amanda. “As usual, it was thanks to your mother’s quick thinking.”
Emily turned to look at her mother. “Mom?”
Amanda shrugged her shoulders. “Morgan tracked the cell phone signal. I had called Castle right before Sinclair’s man grabbed us and laid the phone down on the floorboard. Morgan would have heard the commotion and called in the cavalry.”
“I am so glad he did. Thanks, Mom.”
“You are not the only one who is grateful. Your mom has been watching my back for many years now. I could not ask for a better partner, friend, or wife.”
Amanda threw an enigmatic smile in his direction.
“By the way, Dad, have you ever worked with kindergartners? I think I’d rather deal with being interrogated by terrorists any day then spend the afternoon in a room full of five-year olds.”
Lee threw back his head and laughed. “I’ll take your word on that, Emily.”
Lee, Amanda and Emily stood up to leave and headed toward the stairs leading out of Castle, while on the store monitor, Dr. Woody Woodcomb entered through the double glass sliding doors of the Buy More. . . . . . . .
Opening the door to her hotel room, she stepped inside, placing her keys and purse on the dresser. She shrugged out of her blazer and slung it over the back of the chair, removed her tie from around her neck and laid it over her jacket, then kicked off her heels. Next, she wiggled her toes on the cool carpet. Padding across the room, she made her way to the sink and turned the handle. Dipping her hands under the spout, she splashed cold water on her cheeks. She then grabbed a fluffy white hand towel and wiped her face. Staring at her reflection in the mirror for a moment, she took a deep breath before walking over to a small refrigerator. Grabbing a can of Coke, she then unceremoniously flopped down in the wing-backed chair and turned on the television set.
She thought the room was a bit stuffy, so she stood up and opened the sliding glass door that led to the balcony. The cool air began to circulate throughout the room and curtain drapes billowed in the gentle breeze. She could hear the sound of passing cars and horns in the distance.
Sitting back down, she kicked up her feet. It felt good to be off her feet after such a long day at work. She could not remember the last time she had stood for so long. Popping the soda can open, she took a sip of her cola, and leaned her head back, half tuned-in to the local news.
“The weather for southern California and the greater Los Angeles area will be mostly sunny skies, with highs in the mid 60’s, lows in. . .”
The first she knew there were intruders inside her room was when a large figure appeared in her peripheral vision.
Instinctively, she jumped and searched for anything she could use as a weapon. She never had a chance. She felt a large hand smother her nose and mouth with a smelly cloth. Nausea swept over her before everything went black.
*****
The Agency - Washington, D.C.
Federal Agent Lee Stetson sat at his desk in his office thumbing through a stack of files when his wife and partner, Amanda King Stetson, breezed into the room.
“Ready for lunch, Sweetheart?”
“I’m going to have to cancel our lunch date,” he regretfully told her, giving a disdainful glimpse at his untidy desk.
“Again?”
“I’m sorry.” He gestured toward several tall stacks of manila folders. “As you can tell, I’m swamped. The White House wants a detailed list of where each department can supposedly ‘trim the fat’. We are already short-staffed as it is with all the budget cuts. I swear, Amanda, its days like these.” He placed his hand on the back of his neck and rubbed the kink beginning to form.
Amanda walked behind him, and began to massage his neck and shoulders. He felt her push harder. The knots began to loosen under her tender ministrations. First the neck, and then the tension in his shoulders began to subside. “Mm-hm. That feels good, Honey.” Regretfully he heaved a deep sigh. “However, I need to turn in this report by five.” He then shook his head and again motioned briskly at the folders. “I was never cut out for the paperwork jungle and this bureaucratic bull—”
“Leeee.” She drew out his name and swatted him on the arm.
“Ow!” He rubbed his arm where she had hit him.
“Tell you what, how about you make it up to me later. . . “ She leaned over whispering in his ear.
He glanced over his shoulder and grinned at her. “I like your idea, Mrs. Stetson. It’s a date.” He pushed back from his chair and stood up, wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her firmly against his chest, lowered his mouth and gave her a gentle kiss. “There’s more of that later.”
“I can’t wait,” she replied with a wicked smile, and then gave him a sly wink.
He was about to kiss her again, when the telephone rang. Lee groaned and rolled his eyes.
Amanda gave him a knowing look, before she reached across him and grabbed the phone off his desk. “Lee Stetson’s office. . . Yes, of course. Send her right up.” Amanda returned the phone to the cradle. Lee tilted his head to one side.
“General Diane Beckman is here to meet with us,” she supplied without him even having to ask her a question.
“What does she want?” Lee asked, quickly trying to straighten the mess on his desk. Amanda helped him by removing some folders and placing them on top of the file cabinet and shrugged.
Soon there was a knock at the door. Amanda opened the door inviting their guest in and offered her a seat next to Lee’s desk.
The Brigadier General was a mousy woman with an air of command about her. She wore a green Army service uniform and her dark brown hair rolled into a tight bun.
Lee extended his hand. “General Beckman, always a pleasure.”
She returned his handshake, shook Amanda’s hand and then took a seat, crossing her legs in front of her. Then she placed her briefcase on the floor.
“Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea, water?” Amanda offered.
“No, thank you.” She waved her hand in gesture, placed her hands on her lap, and with a slight nod said, “Lee, Amanda I’ll get straight to the point, I’ve come to ask you for a favor.”
Lee perched himself at the edge of his desk. “What can we do for you, General?”
“We have reason to believe one of our agents has been kidnapped.” She gently brushed a stray wisp of hair from her eyes, tucking it behind her ear.
“Reason to believe,” Amanda interjected. She stood next to Lee and folded her arms across her chest.
The General picked up her briefcase, placed it in her lap, and opened it. “She did not show up to work yesterday. Colonel Casey went to her hotel room to check on her; however, her room was empty, no suitcases, no clothes, nothing. We swept the room for prints and found none including hers, yet we have received no ransom note nor phone call with kidnapper’s demands. This is what we know so far.” General Beckman removed a dossier from the contents of her briefcase and handed it to Lee.
He opened the file and began to read out loud; “Agent failed to report in, subject missing, all attempts to establish communication have failed.”
“Is there a possibility she is AWOL?” Amanda asked, reading the file over Lee’s shoulder.
General Beckman gave a curt nod. “Always a possibility, but whatever the case we need your help locating our missing agent.”
Lee rested his hand on the back of his neck. He glanced over at Amanda and from the corner of his eye saw his wife nod. He then answered for both of them, “Yes, Ma’am.”
General Beckman rifled through her briefcase again and handed Amanda the plane tickets. “You will be flying out of Dulles to Bob Hope International Airport.”
“Burbank?” Lee raised one eyebrow in question.
“Yes, we have a CIA base of operations there and that was her last known locale.”
Lee and Amanda exchanged quick looks and they shrugged in unison, then returned their attention back to the General.
“There you will be meeting with Colonel John Casey. He is in charge of the G.R.E.T.A.’s.” She latched her briefcase closed with a snap.
“Her name is Greta?” Lee asked, tapping the manila folder on his knee.
“No,” she stated simply. “The acronym ‘Greta’ stands for Government Revolving Espionage Tactical Agent. G.R.E.T.A. was brought in after last year’s fiasco with Agent Daniel Shaw. He or she monitors Team Bartowski, keeping eyes and ears on the team without getting too close.”
“Team Bartowski? As in Chuck Bartowski?” Amanda questioned.
“Oh, you know Agent Bartowski?” General Beckman remarked.
Lee shook his head, barely repressing the chuckle that threatened to escape. He looked over at Amanda. A warm smile slowly crept across his wife’s face. “We met him and Sarah Walker last summer while on vacation at Yosemite National Park. Chuck went back to the CIA. Good for him.”
“Good for us. He has been an invaluable asset.” General Beckman stood up and headed toward the door, then turned around to face them. “You might want to start your investigation with Morgan Grimes.”
“Agent Grimes?” Lee picked up a pen and scribbled the name down on a notepad.
“No, civilian. . . sort of an apprentice agent. He’s the manager.”
“The manager?” Lee asked, perplexed.
“Yes, the CIA faculty is located inside. . .”
*****
“. . . the Buy More,” Amanda said after Lee and her entered through the double sliding glass doors and stood inside the store.
The electronics, computers, and home theater store manager, Morgan Grimes, quickly walked over to them. “Welcome to the Buy More. Wait a minute, I know you—you’re Woody—"
“No, the name is Stetson, Lee Stetson. And my wife, Amanda.”
“The Stetsons.” Morgan rocked back on his heels and thrust his hands into his pant pockets. “Yes, the General told me to expect you, but damn if you are not the spitting image of Chuck’s sister’s father-in-law, Dr. Woody Woodcomb.”
Amanda and Lee followed Morgan past the aisles of DVD’s, televisions, computers, and appliances before they reached the manager’s office. Morgan closed the office door and motioned for Lee and Amanda to take the two chairs across from his desk. He then sat down and leaned forward folding his hands in front of him. “You are here about the missing G.R.E.T.A.?”
Amanda merely nodded, placing her purse on the back of the chair. “What can you tell us about her, Mr. Grimes?”
“Not much to tell, as I’m sure you know the G.R.E.T.A.’s rotate every couple of weeks, so I really don’t get the chance to get to know any of them.” Morgan’s hands fluttered as he talked. “Plus, most of the G.R.E.T.A.’s have been girls and very gorgeous looking—not that I have noticed. I’m in a very committed relationship with the most wonderful woman in the world. I guess you really didn’t need to know that,” he replied with a sheepish grin.
Amanda smiled back at him. “When was the last time you saw her?”
“I saw Alex last night—oh, you mean G.R.E.T.A.? Let’s see, um, it would have been on Tuesday. It was my turn to open the store. I did my usual managerial routine, opening registers, counting tills, safety sweep, delivery and inventory sheets, checked the bathrooms, stock room and employee break room. I saw her in the break room drinking coffee with Casey—I mean Colonel Casey. They were in deep conversation.”
“Could you hear what they were talking about?” Amanda crossed her legs and leaned forward.
“No. Last minute instructions, maybe.” He shrugged casually, and then his eyes opened wide with surprise. “You don’t think the Colonel is a suspect, do ya?”
“He was the last person to see her,” Lee reminded him.
“No way! Not John!” He shook his head several times. “You are barking up the wrong tree.”
“No, we don’t suspect the Colonel,” Amanda reassured him, she then tried a softer approach. “We’re just trying to cover all the bases.”
Morgan nodded. “Yes, of course.”
“Anything else you want to add?” Lee asked him.
Morgan hesitated for a moment; his eyes focused elsewhere. He rubbed his wiry beard thoughtfully.
“Mr. Grimes?” Amanda asked.
At that very moment, Morgan pointed out the office window.
Lee and Amanda turned around to see where Morgan gestured. Through the open blinds slats they saw Jeff and Lester prancing around the home entertainment staging area in wet t-shirts.
Lee stood up and lifted one of the blind slats to get a clearer view. “What’s up with the creepy duo?”
Morgan sighed. “The million-dollar question.” He straightened his tie and then looked up. “I think they’re trying to hold a wet t-shirt contest.”
Lee shook his head in disbelief.
“After all, it is spring break,” Morgan exclaimed.
“Is there something you need to tell us about them, Mr. Grimes? Who exactly are they and why are you pointing them out to us?” Lee asked.
“They are Jeffery Barnes and Lester Patel and they have stalked the G.R.E.T.A.’s in the past.”
Amanda wrote down their names. “What do you mean?”
Morgan blew out a deep breath. “Although they are strange and not the sharpest knives in the drawer, they are very observant and think it's weird having a new employee every few weeks named Greta, and have been a little more than suspicious. Both Casey and I have caught them following her around.” He brushed a piece of lint from the top of his desk. “Really, they are harmless.”
“Nevertheless, we should interview them; however, I think we should talk to Colonel Casey first.” Lee stood up and reached into his pocket. “Thank you for your time and if there is anything more you can add please let us know.” He handed Morgan a business card and then helped Amanda out of her chair.
“Yes, of course. I do hope you find her.”
“Mr. Grimes, if you could please show us the way to the underground base,” Amanda asked, grabbing her purse, she slung it over her shoulder.
Morgan opened the door for them. “Yes, of course, right this way to Castle.”
*****
Lee and Amanda sat in swivel chairs at the big metallic table across from Special Agent John Casey. The conference table was in the main room, inside the secret underground CIA facility at the Buy More. Casey had his arms folded across his large chest and his jaw locked tight. “I already told the General I would take care of this. I really don’t know why the General felt I needed outside help,” he growled.
"I think I'm more than qualified to answer that question, Colonel," a female voice said, in a slightly irritated tone. General Beckman's head appeared on the main television monitor in the middle of the room. “Lee and Amanda are doing this as a favor to me and have experience in missing persons; therefore, you will tell the Stetsons everything you know about our missing G.R.E.T.A.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Casey scowled.
"Good," replied the General and then the screen faded to the blue background with the CIA logo.
Casey stood up from the conference table, walked over to the console and came back with a stack of files. He placed them down and slid them across the table toward the couple. “Here are the files of the past and current G.R.E.T.A. agents.”
Lee removed a plastic case from his sport coat, opened it, and took out a pair of reading glasses. Then he put them on. He skimmed through the first file and passed it onto Amanda. She flipped through the dossiers, read the corresponding bios and scanned the subsequent pictures for each agent.
“The General already explained what G.R.E.T.A. stands for. What you might not know is he or she changes every few weeks.” Casey propped himself against the wall and folded his arms across his green Buy More shirt.
“Yes, Mr. Grimes told us.” Amanda shifted slightly in her chair and then went back to looking closely at the files.
Casey grunted and slightly nodded his head. “Not only does the agent keep tabs on Team Bartowski. They also maintain operating procedures inside the Buy More, as well as report on how the store is doing financially.”
Lee tilted his head questionably at Amanda who shrugged. Casey could see the confused expression on both their faces. He pulled out a chair and sat down. “Well, the government still expects the Burbank Buy More to make money.”
Both Lee and Amanda nodded and then went through the reports closely for several minutes. Lee spoke up, “Most of these agents have corresponding pictures with their bios, but I don’t see one for the current one.” He held up the file for the most recent G.R.E.T.A.
“Isn’t that odd?” Amanda interjected.
Casey grunted again. “Yes, I thought that was weird too, but I just chalked it up to the government having incomplete information, or the picture was attached to the wrong bio. You know the government.” He shrugged his large broad shoulders.
“According to this information the agent rotated in was Susan Black,” Lee said.
Amanda gave Lee a confused look. She looked deep in thought for a moment, but then shook it off.
“What?” Lee removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off the headache he felt coming on.
“I know that name from somewhere, but Black is a common name, as well as Susan, so probably just a coincidence,” Amanda rambled.
“Do you know where you might recognize the name?” Lee asked her.
Amanda shook her head several times. “No. Female, 5’8”, brown hair, brown eyes. Doesn’t give us much—could describe just about anyone.”
“What do you remember about her, Colonel?” Lee queried the NSA agent.
Casey leaned back in his chair. “It was Monday. I was scanning the crowded store floor, when I saw her. My eyes met hers and she smiled back. She was wearing the typical Nerd Herd uniform, white shirt, gray tie, short black mini-skirt. She was young—too young. Younger than what the CIA usually brings in.”
“How young?” Lee rolled back from his chair, stood up and began to pace the room with the folder in his hand.
“Twenty-two or three.” Casey shrugged. “Fresh out of college, would be my guess. She reminded me of Alex.”
“Alex?” Amanda inquired.
“My daughter.”
Amanda nodded her head.
“Mr. Grimes brought up Jeff and Lester as possible suspects?” Lee stopped, placing the folder and his hands on the table.
“The Buy-Morons? They’re morons, not criminals. No, I don’t think they have anything to do with her disappearance.”
Lee glanced at his wife and noticed her biting her lip. “I know that look. What are you thinking?”
“College, right?” She looked at Lee and then Casey who both nodded their heads in conformation. “Where did Ms. Black go to school?” Amanda asked Lee.
Lee placed his glasses back on, opened the dossier and read the file. “Actually, she’s still in college. She’s a grad student at Stanford University.”
Amanda gasped. “That is where I know the name. Emily’s sorority mother at the Kappa house is a grad student named Susan Black.”
Lee and Amanda turned to face Casey, then Lee posed the question, “And just how long has the CIA been recruiting kids from college?”
*****
Morgan placed a drink holder down on the conference table, and then passed a hot cup of coffee to Casey, followed by one to Lee, and then Amanda. Morgan sat down to Casey’s left and swiveled around in his chair.
“The CIA recruits college students?” Lee asked, opening the plastic lid on his cup of coffee.
Casey shrugged nonchalantly. “Yes, both graduate and undergraduate. The CIA recruits at several campuses across the country and even the world. Students accepted in agency-sponsored programs are eligible for tuition assistance. It’s a great way to pay for college and serve your country at the same time.”
Lee stirred cream into his drink, put the lid back on, and took a sip of the bittersweet liquid. He sat back studying Susan’s information. “Susan. Smart girl. Lived in France for a few years, I remember her being fluent in French. Second year graduate student, studying economics.” He tapped the bio on the table and then took another sip of his coffee.
Amanda flipped her cell phone closed and placed it down on the table. “I just got off the phone with the Kappa house. One of the young ladies there told me Susan told them that she was going home for Spring Break which would explain why no one realized she was missing.” She stood up and walked toward the bank of computers. “Mr. Grimes, could you please show me how to print from this terminal.” Amanda asked him.
Morgan stood up, walked over to her and extended his hand. “It’s Morgan, Ma’am.”
Amanda returned his handshake. “Amanda.”
“May I ask who Emily is?”
She looked at him.
“You mentioned her a moment ago, and I was just curious.” He punched a few keys on the keyboard.
“Our daughter. She’s in her second year at Stanford.”
He nodded. “Chuck’s alma mater.”
“Yes, Chuck told me. By the way, where are Chuck and Sarah?”
“Doing light surveillance,” he told her. He punched a few more keys on the keyboard, then walked over to the printer tray and grabbed the picture. “Who is that?”
Amanda took the paper from him. “Susan Black.”
Morgan vehemently shook his head. “No, that’s not.”
Overhearing the conversation, Casey walked over to Amanda and Morgan. “What’s going on?”
“I just printed a picture of Susan Black from the Stanford college campus directory and Morgan says this is not her. Maybe you can shed some light on this Colonel.” She handed him the sheet of paper.
Casey studied the photo for a moment. “He’s right, this is not her. I mean it might be Susan Black, but that is not G.R.E.T.A.”
“Then who is missing?” Amanda asked no one in particular.
Everyone in the room looked at each other with confused expressions on their faces.
*****
California University Hospital
Lee and Amanda stepped off the elevator and turned right walking down the sterile hallway of the hospital. He placed his hand on Amanda’s back guiding her down the long floor to ceiling windowed corridor until they reached the intermediate ICU ward. Walking past the nursing station, they entered the brightly blue-pastel colored visitor lounge. A large coral fish tank was in the center of the room.
A petite dark-haired woman in her late 40’s sat in a sofa chair reading a magazine. She looked up and smiled at the couple.
“Mrs. Black?” Lee asked, extending his hand.
The woman placed her magazine down on the end table, stood up and returned the handshake. “The Stetsons, right? Susan has talked about your daughter Emily. Nice to finally meet you.”
Lee offered a small nod. “Likewise, Mrs. Black.”
“Please it’s Claudia. May I call you Lee and Amanda?”
“Of course,” Amanda answered for both of them. “How’s Susan?”
“Like I told you over the phone, she has bacterial meningitis. She’s responding well to antibiotics, and doing much better than when she was first brought it; however, she’s still a very sick girl.”
“Do we need to worry about Emily and exposure?” Lee turned to ask Amanda.
Amanda shook her head. “No, Emily had her second booster shot right before she entered her freshman year.” She noticed Lee breathe a sigh of relief, and focused back on Claudia. “We’re so sorry you and Susan are going through this and Lee and I hope she has a speedy recovery.”
Claudia looked to the floor and nodded her head several times. “Susan did not have the vaccination. It was not required at her undergraduate school. and she studied abroad.” She reached for a tissue from a Kleenex box on the table and dabbed her eyes. “You also said you needed to talk to her for a moment. I think she’s sleeping, but we can go in and I’ll see if I can wake her to answer your questions.” She led them toward a handwashing station. “You will need to scrub your hands and arms up to your elbows. There’s a pump at your foot that controls the water and dispenses the soap. Then put on the paper gown.” She pointed to the metal shelves with the gowns, caps and masks. “And don’t forget the mask.”
When the three of them were ready, Claudia led them to Susan’s room. She opened the door and Lee and Amanda followed. Susan lay in the hospital bed asleep. There was an IV pole next to her bed with the necessary fluids and antibiotics going through a picc line in her arm. A clear oxygen mask was over her nose and mouth and a cardiac monitor beeped steadily. In the room was also a patient chair with a footstool, a bedside table, and an over-bed table. A large flower arrangement sat on the windowsill.
Her mother moved the reclining chair closer to her bedside, reached out, and took one of her hands into her own. “Susan,” she whispered.
Susan's eyes fluttered open. She looked up at her mother and blinked a few times.
“Mom?” Her oxygen mask clouded over with each breath she exhaled.
“Yes, Sweetheart. Do you remember the Stetsons? Emily’s parents.”
Susan glanced over at Lee and Amanda and gave them a half-hearted smile. She then turned her focus back to her mother. “Mom, could you please go get me some ice chips. I’m a little parched.”
“Yes, of course.” Claudia stood up and walked toward the door, then turned around. “I’ll be right back.”
Susan nodded her head in thanks and then turned to Lee and Amanda, after her mother left. “I didn’t want my mom to hear our conversation. She doesn’t know I was recruited by the CIA.”
Lee and Amanda both nodded their heads in understanding. Amanda then sat down in the chair Susan’s mother had previously occupied. Lee stood at the foot of the bed.
“Susan, can you tell us what happened?” Amanda placed her hand on her shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze.
“Since you’re Agency, I assume you know about the CIA and the G.R.E.T.A. program.” She witnessed Lee nodding his head, as she turned to Amanda. “I was asked to be the G.R.E.T.A. and since it corresponded with spring break, I thought I could do it, except a couple days before I was to leave for Burbank, I started feeling sick—a severe headache, my neck was stiff, I was dazed and confused. The following day, my boyfriend took me to the hospital and I have been here ever since.”
“We are glad you are responding well to treatments; however, we need to know who took your place as the G.R.E.T.A.”
Susan blinked a couple more times then looked apologetically at Amanda and then back to Lee. “I thought you knew—isn’t that why you’re here?”
“Susan, you thought we knew what?” Amanda suddenly felt nauseated and her stomach began to churn.
“It was a cakewalk assignment—just observing some geeks at the Buy More, so I asked Emily if she wanted the assignment.”
Amanda struggled to catch her breath.
“What’s wrong?” Susan asked her.
“You must be confused. Emily is in Puerto Vallarta with some of the sorority sisters.”
Lee came around to the other side of Susan’s bed. “Yes, the reason my wallet is so much lighter.” Feeling apprehensive, he timidly laughed.
Susan shook her head, coughed, and then cleared her throat. “She didn’t want to tell you because she knew you would disapprove, but she was also recruited by the CIA.”
Lee and Amanda exchanged anxious glances and Lee stepped back bracing himself against the wall, rubbing his temples.
Amanda in a voice barely above a whisper replied, “Then the missing G.R.E.T.A. is our daughter.”
*****
A cruising yacht - docked in a marina somewhere out on the Pacific Ocean
Emily Stetson tried to open her eyes, but they were heavy. Her head hurt and her whole body ached. She tried to sit up, but was too dizzy. Placing her hand on her forehead, she collapsed back down on the mattress. Confusion swept over her.
Her head was spinning. What happened? Where am I? How did I get here? echoed through her mind. She could feel gentle rocking and could hear seagulls squawking. Gathering her bearings, she realized she was in a cabin on a boat. Feeling motion sickness and the lingering effects of the chloroform, she leaned over the small bed and heaved. Her stomach empty, she started to feel a little better. Well, at least the room had stopped spinning.
She blinked a couple of times attempting to take in her surroundings. A little filtered sunlight came through a dark green-tinted window. She then noticed a bottle of water on a small table near the bed and realized her throat was parched and she was thirsty. Struggling to open the bottle, she screwed the cap off and greedily drank the warmish liquid—but at least it was wet. She coughed from drinking too fast and wiped her mouth with the palm of her hand. Quickly stepping over to the window, she noted it did not open. She then walked over to the door and found it locked. She was trapped, alone, and frightened as she thought no one knew she was gone.
Dejected, she flopped back down on the mattress and pressed her hands to her eyes.
*****
“. . . I sympathize with your position Lee, Amanda,” General Beckman told Lee, Amanda, and Casey who all looked over at the bank of monitors. The General was on the main display. “However, you are too close to the situation. You need to stay out. Agents Bartowski and Walker will be back to Castle within the hour. I want you to give them everything you have. We’ll keep you informed. That is all for now.” Then the screen quickly faded to blue.
Lee paced the room and slammed his hand against the wall in frustration. “That’s our daughter we’re talking about. How does she honestly think we are going to sit this one out?”
Amanda shook her head several times. “She obviously doesn’t know you very well.”
Casey made an incoherent noise in the back of his throat.
“Do you have a problem, Colonel?” Lee growled.
“John or Casey is fine.” Casey put the folder he was holding down on the table. “Your daughter is the same age as my Alex. How the devil did she get mixed up in all this?”
Lee turned around to face Casey. “She's barely 22-years old. She doesn't have enough experience. When I find out who recruited her and who decided to keep her involvement from us a secret, I’ll strangle them.”
Amanda walked over to Lee and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, then turned to the Colonel. “We would like to know ourselves.”
“Any ideas who might have her?” Casey asked them.
Lee and Amanda looked at each other holding a silent conversation and then turned back to Casey. “No,” Lee answered for them. “I’ve been an intelligence operative since 1978, Amanda officially since 1986. And as my wife Amanda would say we’ve put a lot of unsavory people away.”
“Anything recent?”
Amanda shook her head. “Nothing. Neither Lee nor I have been in the field for years.”
Lee threw up his arms in aggravation. “This could be random or a past case. Of course, it might not have anything to do with us. It might be about the Intersect or the G.R.E.T.A. project.”
Casey leaned back in his chair and nodded. He agreed with Lee’s assessment. “Being a father myself I can imagine what I’d be going through if my daughter was missing, nor could I stand by and do nothing. Count me in.”
Lee reached across the table and shook his hand. “We’re glad to have you on our team, John.”
*****
Echo Park – California
Lee Stetson stood in the Echo Park apartment complex courtyard near the two-tiered water fountain waiting for Morgan when he saw a man come out of another apartment door holding a baby, a diaper bag was slung over his shoulder, and a car seat and stroller were in his other hand.
Spotting Lee, he called out, “Dad, what are you doing here early? I thought you and Mom were going to be here next week?” Lee tried to interrupt, but the baby wailed and squirmed in Devon’s arms. “I can’t thank you enough for watching Clara for us and giving Ellie and me this time to ourselves. This is perfect timing, we have a dinner appointment with a pharmaceutical company and thought we would have to cancel. We really could use this night out. She’s teething and nobody's getting any rest, if you know what I mean.” He handed over a diaper bag. “Here is the diaper bag and there's enough bottles made up in the fridge for the rest of the day and her next diaper change is due in twenty minutes and her next feeding is in an hour and the stuffed animal she MUST sleep with is in her crib. I had better go get Ellie in the van or she’s never going to leave. Thanks again, Dad. You’re a lifesaver.” He kissed the baby on the forehead. “Bye, Claire-Bear.”
Devon handed Clara off to him, leaving a very stunned Lee. He looked at the baby and she looked back at him. She hiccupped and drew sharp breaths between sobs. He then rested her on his shoulder, and patted her on the back, rocking her gently.
Morgan came out of his and Casey’s apartment door. “I got what Casey wanted. . . hey, now, why do you have Clara?” He glanced around looking for Ellie and Awesome.
“Some couple handed her over to me—I think they must have thought I was someone else.”
Both men shrugged at one another.
Morgan grabbed the car seat and pushed the stroller, then led Lee into the Woodcomb’s apartment. He shut the door behind him. “Should I go after them?”
Lee shook his head. “No, let them have their night out. It’s probably safer to face a gaggle of KGB agents than try to deny new parents a break. Less emotional, too.”
Lee saw a clean white cloth on the back of the sofa and placed it over his shoulder. “Does she have a teething ring?” he asked Morgan.
Morgan looked around the room and spied one on the coffee table. He picked it up. “Here’s one.”
“Good. Go put it in the freezer for a few minutes.”
Morgan shrugged, but did what Lee asked.
A few moments later, Lee still carrying Clara over his shoulder walked into the kitchen and removed her teething ring from the freezer. He gave it to her and she gummed it happily.
“You sure know your way around babies.”
Lee bounced her while he paced the living room. “Being Grandpa of four you learn a thing or two.” He smiled at her. “Isn’t that right, Clara?”
She cooed at him and continued to gum the ring.
“What do you have there Grimes?” Lee asked, noticing the molded guitar case with a “peace” sign and rainbow stickers. “I admit I don’t know Colonel Casey very well, but that certainly does not look like something he would be caught dead carrying.”
“No, the case was my idea. Nice touch, don’t ya think?”
“Is that the weapon the Colonel asked you to go back to the apartment and get?”
Morgan nodded his head.
“Well, show it to me.”
Morgan glanced around the room and opened the case. “First, cover Claire-Bear’s eyes. She does not need to be influenced by weapons or violence.”
Lee chuckled, shook his head and then placed Clara over his shoulder. She continued to gum the ring and a bit of drool dripped off her chin, past Lee’s rolled up shirt sleeve and onto the floor.
Morgan removed the firearm from the box. “He calls it the ‘Mother.’ It’s a Colt M4A1 Carbine with a Trijicon 4x ACOG scope and with a vertical fore grip.”
Lee and Morgan both leaned over 'Mother' as a ray of sunlight glistened on the gleaming black metal exterior, whilst the gun cradled in its case with a picture of John Lennon, with long hair and specs, making the peace sign, and a word bubble coming out of his mouth saying, 'Give peace a try.’
Lee let out a duly impressed whistle. “You’re not kidding. That’s one mother of a gun.”
They both became startled when they heard someone behind them clear her throat. “Men and their toys.”
Morgan turned around. “Alex, Honey Bun.” She tapped her foot at him and pointed to the watch on her wrist. “We had a date this afternoon, didn’t we?”
“You left the front door open and put that thing away before someone sees it.” She looked closely at the gun and rolled her eyes. “I’ll be out front in the courtyard if we’re still on.”
“Yes, of course.” Morgan quickly returned the gun to the case. “Well, since you two seem to be hitting it off do you mind if I take off? I have a date with Alex. We are supposed to go to this 'men are from Mars, women from Venus' seminar. The brochure read that this would ensure an ‘unshakable relationship foundation that will endure till the end of time.’ She planned this shindig weeks ago, and if I don’t go, I’ll be wishing I was living on Mars.” He chuckled nervously. “Anything I can do for you before I leave?”
“No, just let Amanda know where I am.”
“Sure, sure.” He picked up the case and slung it over his shoulder having to shift his weight when he became slightly off balance. “I’ll take this back to Castle and check on how Amanda and Casey are doing on your past cases. Chuck and Sarah should be there by now, too.”
“Have Amanda give me a call on my cell phone if they get any leads.”
“Will do.” Morgan saluted before heading out the apartment door.
Several hours later, Lee heard the rattling of the key in the front door handle. He lay on the couch with the baby asleep on his chest. He was in a fog, half asleep himself. Bottles, toys, diapers, wipes and her bear were flanked out before him.
Ellie entered the room first. “Dad?” She softly called out and then stopped suddenly. Grabbing Devon by the arm, she pulled him back. “Who the hell is that?”
Devon looked at her. “What are you talking about, Babe? That’s Dad.”
“No, it isn’t.” She shook her head. “I mean he looks like Woody, but that is not your father.”
Devon and Ellie Woodcomb looked over at the sleeping forms of the man on the couch and their daughter. “Well, whoever he is, Clara’s taken to him,” he said in hushed tones.
“I can’t believe you passed our baby off to a complete stranger.” She smacked him in the arm.
“Would you two please shut up? If either one wakes the baby, I will personally shoot the culprit in the kneecaps. . . from close range!”
“Devon, who is this man? Did you leave Clara with a gangster?” Ellie questioned him.
Morgan came in through the open front door and stood behind Ellie and Awesome. “No. A spy.”
Lee opened one eye and looked over at the couple. “I never really cared for that word.”
*****
A man in a dark brown suit and graying hair sat on a leather sofa in the main seating area of a yacht. The teak paneled room was luxuriously appointed with a bar, a large screen television, and stereo music center. He leaned back into the soft leather. Lacing his fingers behind his head, he closed his eyes and smiled.
He was interrupted a few moments later. “Sorry to interrupt, Sir, but there is a call for you.” His assistant handed him a mobile phone.
“Hello,” the man answered. “Yes, I have exactly what your client is looking for. Young, chestnut brown hair and chocolate eyes. I think he would be very pleased with her. . . Yes, I think we can come to more than agreeable terms. Always a pleasure doing business with you.” He placed the phone down and turning in his seat, he looked out the large bay window. It was a beautiful, late spring day in California. “Yes, today was turning out to be a great day indeed.”
*****
“Retzig, Birol, Makarov, Rostov.” Casey gave a long-drawn-out whistle through the front of his teeth while reading over Lee and Amanda’s past case files. He looked over at Amanda. “Quite the remarkable solve rate you two had while you and Lee ran the Q-Bureau. I’m impressed.”
She leaned back in her chair and squeezed her eyes shut. “Most of the people Lee and I have put away in the last twenty-odd years are either dead or still serving life sentences.” She heaved a deep sigh and wrung her hands. “It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. I wish whoever had her would let us know what their demands are.” She rolled back from her chair, restlessly she paced the room, chewing her fingernails. Realizing what she was doing, she stopped and dropped her arms to her side. “Where’s my baby?”
Casey unfolded himself from his chair and placed his hands on her arms with the best understanding smile he could muster. "I know it's just plain stupid to tell you not to worry, but know that we'll find her. . . or die trying."
Amanda blinked a couple of times. She could tell Casey was not used to playing the role of comforter; however, she was grateful he had tried. “Thanks, John," she answered with a weak smile.
Casey gently squeezed her arm, pleased with her reaction, and then moved away.
She closed her eyes again and bit her lip. “I wish Lee would hurry back.”
“Maybe he got stuck in traffic.”
Amanda turned to look at him with a confused expression on her face.
“What?” he asked.
She shook her head, but could not get rid of the sense of dread she felt. “Nothing.”
Casey glanced up at the bank of monitors looking at the store feed into the Buy More. He witnessed Lester and Jeff tossing boxes to one another in the stockroom. He growled. “How many times do I have to tell those morons not to damage the merchandise?”
“What did you say?” Icy fear twisted around her heart.
“Don’t damage the merchandise.”
"Merchandise?" Amanda spoke the word with a distasteful look on her face. She quickly scattered the files in front of her, then suddenly stopped on one particular folder. Trembling, she opened the dossier, and scanned information. “. . . first you and I will be together.” Her heart skipped a beat after she finished reading and she slowly sank back into the chair. “Oh, my gosh.”
“Come again?” Casey questioned.
“Not my baby—” she was interrupted by her cell phone ringing and dropped the file on the desk. “Hello,” she frantically answered. “Lee, where are you?”
“I’m pulling into the Buy More parking lot this very moment.” The front tires of the rental car hit the concrete parking block and he shifted the car into park. “Why, what’s up?”
“Just a theory. I’ll meet you up top in a minute.” She rolled back from her chair again and stood up. Her heels pounded against the metal rungs as she swiftly ascended the stairs.
*****
Lee quickly entered the store looking for his wife when he was approached by two men. Instinctively, he reached for his weapon hidden under his jacket. The shorter of the two men circled him. Lee relaxed when he recognized them as Buy More employees, Jeff and Lester.
Lester still crept around him sucking on a Tootsie Pop. He took the sucker out of his mouth with a loud pop. “We know who you are?”
Lee tried to brush them aside. “I’m here looking for my wife.”
Lester pointed to Jeff. “My friend Jeff says he recognizes you from Ellie and Awesome’s wedding.”
Jeff put his fingers to his temples and closed his eyes. “Woody. Your name is Woody.”
Lee rolled his eyes. “No.”
“Silent. The Amazing Jeffery is not done.” Lester held up his hand. “Continue, Jeffery.”
“You’re looking for someone.”
“Of course he’s looking for someone, Jeffery. He just said he was looking for his wife.”
“Oh, yeah. Right.”
“Listen. . . I really don’t have time—” Lee tried to interject.
Amanda came up behind Lee and put her arm around him. “There you are, Lee. Come this way I want to show you something,” Amanda said leading him away from the pair.
Lee shook his head in amazement. ”I don’t know how Chuck can work in this environment and I thought Fielder was bad. And why does everyone keep calling me Woody? Do I look like the sheriff cowboy from Toy Story?”
“No, but you sure do look cute in a Stetson.” She kissed him on the cheek.
“Cute, Amanda. Real cute.”
Jeff hollered out, “Wait, you are Cia!”
Surprised Amanda and Lee turned around to look at them.
Lester punched Jeff in the arm. “What is it with you and Cia? Cia. It doesn’t even mean anything. Sheesh, Jeff!”
Chuck Bartowski came up behind Jeff and Lester and put his arms around them. “Shouldn’t you two be over at the Nerd Herd desk?”
“Come on, Jeff. Let’s go back and work on the telepathy cards. I guess next time we’ll have to use shock therapy.”
“Like in Ghostbusters?” Jeff asked while the two of them headed off toward the Nerd Herd desk.
Lee extended his hand. “Bartowski.”
Chuck returned his handshake. “Sorry about those two.”
“Chuck.” Amanda pulled him down for a hug. “Where’s Sarah?”
“I’m right here,” Sarah Walker answered, coming up beside Chuck.
Amanda gave her a hug. “I understand congratulations are you order. We’re so happy for you two.”
Sarah smiled at Chuck and he returned her smile.
“We’re sorry to hear about your daughter. What can we do to help?” Sarah asked them. “Chuck and I will do everything in our power to help you locate her.”
“Thanks, Sarah.” Amanda then turned to Lee. “I think I might have a possible lead on who may have taken Emily.”
“That’s great. Since we're all here, let’s head down to Castle and discuss what we know so far,” Chuck said leading them all toward the secret entrance to the underground base.
*****
The man stood on his yacht overlooking the clear blue water. Nearly a ripple, this far out, the water was like a sheet of glass. They had dropped anchor out in the Pacific Ocean about an hour ago and now bright sunlight reflected off the deep sea. He turned when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs.
His assistant stood in front of him gripping a girl tightly by her arm. She struggled against his grasp. Her head covered by a black canvas hood was soon removed. Her soft brown curls fell framing her face. She was a vision of beauty. His heart hammered in his chest and he thought he might just have to keep her for himself or at least have some fun with her. He sat down on the sofa, poured himself a glass of champagne, and took a sip.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Stetson.”
Her eyes blinked from the bright sunlight and he watched her try to get her bearings.
She put her hand to her head; he knew she had a headache, probably from the chloroform and maybe a little seasickness.
"Who are you?” she asked him.
He patted the leather-cushioned seat next to him. “Why don’t we get comfortable.”
She looked up at the powerful muscular man next to her. He was dressed casually, weighed approximately 230 pounds easily, and had no neck. She then looked back at her host. Defiantly, she shook her head. “Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?”
“In due time.” He took another sip of champagne and smiled at her. Then he raked his hand through his graying hair and crossed his legs. “I strongly advise you to cooperate."
"What is it you want me to do?" Wariness was evident in her voice.
He shrugged lightly. "Just do what you're told." He lifted the champagne bottle. “Now come sit down and get comfortable.”
The second man shoved her toward the sofa and she reluctantly sat down.
The man reached out and caressed her cheek. “Delicate skin.” A smile slowly spread across his face. “Very delicate skin, so much like your mother.”
She flinched, recoiling away from him.
“Would you like some?” He poured her a glass, not letting her answer.
She hesitantly took the glass from him.
He clinked his glass to hers. “Let’s drink to old friendships and new beginnings.” Then he took a drink, eyeing her closely. “Maybe I should introduce myself, the name is Robert. . . ”
*****
“. . . Sinclair,” Amanda told Lee and Team Bartowski.
Lee struggled for breath, and felt tightness in his chest, then finally managed to choke out, “Is he out?”
Chuck punched a few buttons and the General’s face appeared again on the monitor screen.
She pivoted around in her chair and removed her glasses. “Yes, Agent Bartowski.”
“We think we have a line on who may have taken Emily Stetson.”
She glanced around the room, noticing the Stetsons. “I thought I told you to stay out!” She paused, and then softened her tone. “However, I guess if I were in your shoes, I couldn’t either. Go ahead, Chuck.”
“Lee and Amanda had an old nemesis by the name of Robert Sinclair.”
The General put her glasses back on and hit a few keys on her laptop. “Human trafficking ring, I see.” She went back to looking at the screen. “Federal prison. . . time served. Yes, he was released six months ago. His parole officer lost contact with him four weeks ago.” She took off her glasses, placed her hands on the desk, and leaned forward. “Lee, Amanda whatever resources you need are available for your disposal. I will not tolerate this sort of crime, and I don’t appreciate any one going after one of our own. I want this man stopped. Welcome to Team Bartowski.”
An hour later, the team sat around the conference table inside Castle. Morgan directed everyone sitting around the table to the bank of television screens where images flashed across the monitors. “Sirs, Madams, the State Department estimates there are 180,000 to 200,000 thousand people trafficked across international borders each year. Many are forced into modern day slavery, forced marriages, prostitution, labor, domestic servitude—” he cleared his throat and diverted his eyes.
“It's okay, Morgan, go on,” Amanda told him.
“Yes, well.” He played with his tie clip. “Sometimes sexual exploitation or they are drugged, starved, raped or beaten into submission. Often threats are made against their own lives or family members to keep them in line. On occasion trafficking is done for involuntary organ harvest.”
Lee gripped the edge of the table. “I should have killed him when I had the chance.”
Amanda put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We’ll find her.”
Lee nodded his head, but could not make eye contact with his wife. “Go on, Mr. Grimes.”
“Traffickers are. . . members of highly sophisticated networks of organized crime. . . Women or children are frequently ‘sold’ at trade shows by a commodities broker. . . It’s big business, producing $9 billion a year, worldwide.”
All the television screens stopped flickering various images and stopped on a mugshot of Robert Sinclair.
“What makes you believe it's this Sinclair character?” Casey asked them.
“Back in 1984, he grabbed Amanda,” Lee said. The muscle in his jaw began to pulsate. To this day, he still had difficulties admitting the depth at which he had been frightened for Amanda when he'd discovered someone had wanted to ‘sell’ her. He thought about how close he had come to losing her and the stupid, petty argument they had only a few moments earlier before her attempted abduction. Not long after they were married, he asked her to throw away the ‘Hot Momma’ t-shirt because of the guilt associated with it.
“How does he operate?” Sarah inquired, breaking him from his reverie.
“He’s a real model citizen,” Amanda said. “Often involved in local charities and he’s a big donor, allowing him access to the events and people. This is where he scopes out potential victims and how I came to know him the last time. He was working with a charity organization raising money for service dogs where I volunteered. He managed to snatch my friend, Gail Taylor and me. If it hadn’t been for Lee—” fighting against her emotions, she choked back a sob.
Lee pulled his wife against him, comforting her. “We need to focus on local charities in the area and have someone pose as a potential buyer making contact with Sinclair and his cronies.”
Chuck stood up and straightened his tie. “I guess it’s time to bring in Carmichael. . . Charles Carmichael.”
*****
Chuck and Casey entered the lobby of the Hotel Madison and walked over to the registration table outside the ‘Sugar Pine’ conference room. A voluptuous woman ran her hands through her long, reddish hair, and chewed on the end of a pen while she sat behind the table taking registrations.
“Hello, boys,” she said to Chuck and Casey when it was their turn to register. “Welcome to Heart and Soul Charity Event.”
“Hello, Ms. Keegan,” Chuck replied after reading her nametag. “My name is Charles Carmichael.”
“Call me Marge.” She winked. “Carmichael,” she repeated, running her finger down the list of names. “Yes, here you are, Mr. Carmichael. Now, will there be a Mrs. Carmichael joining you?” She handed him an information packet and name tag.
“I’m not married,” he said, placing the sticky name tag on his lapel.
“Such a shame.” She pouted her lips and then turned her attention to Casey. “What’s your story, Big Fella?”
Casey's only response was an incoherent noise in the back of his throat.
Chuck slapped Casey on the back. “You have to forgive my friend, he’s a little shy. He’s single too.”
“Is that a fact?” She extended her long, perfectly manicured fingers at him and grabbed his hand, holding on firmly. “Do you have a name, ‘Too Shy’?”
He pulled his hand back. “John Casey.”
She searched the list of names. “Yes, Casey, John.” She winked at him. “John’s such a strong name for a man,” she emphasized the last word. She reached across the table to place his name tag above his suit jacket pocket. Her large bosoms almost fell out of her low-cut dress. “Oopsie,” she said, pushing them back in place. “I swear sometimes the ‘girls’ have a mind of their own.” She giggled, handing him a pamphlet. “Glad you boys could join us and hope to see you around.” She winked at them again and giggled some more.
“Have anything for shark bite?” Casey whispered to Chuck after they turned to enter the conference room. Large buffet tables were set up in the middle of the room with an enormous ice sculpture carved in the shape of a heart on the center table. Men and women were mingling around the bar, buffet and serving tables. Chuck briefly nodded to Sarah who was dressed in a banquet staff uniform. She had on a short black mini-skirt, white dress shirt and a gold-colored vest and bow tie. She turned her attention to the patrons in the room. Chuck and Casey walked over to the bar.
“What can I get you gentleman?” The man attending the bar asked them.
“Chardonnay, please,” Chuck answered.
“And you, Sir?” The bartender asked Casey.
“Just a Coke.”
“Chardonnay and a Coke coming right up.”
Chuck read the front of the pamphlet. “Heart and Soul.”
“Is it a legitimate organization?” Casey asked.
Chuck nodded his head. “I believe it was started by a mother who lost her son from a heart attack or something. . . “
“Yes, a real sad story,” Chuck heard a voice say from behind him and felt a hand on his shoulder.
The man extended his other hand to him. “Robert Sinclair, I’m the organizer and sponsor of the group.”
Chuck returned the handshake. “Charles Carmichael, Carmichael Industries, and my personal executive assistant, John Casey.”
Sinclair then shook Casey’s hand and turned his attention back to Chuck. “Thank you for coming to our fundraiser gala. As I was saying, our organization was founded by Debbie Shepherd whose son, Dwight, went into sudden cardiac arrest during a high school football game and died before paramedics could get to him. The money raised by this charity will be providing an important service. Our goal at Heart and Soul is to purchase enough defibrillators for every high school in the nation and to train personnel how to use them properly, potentially saving the lives of students, teachers, and staff.”
“A noble cause,” Chuck told him.
Casey nodded his head in agreement.
“Yes, we believe so.”
“Your drinks,” the bartender said, returning with their beverages.
Chuck removed his money clip from his inside suit pocket to pay for the drinks.
He noticed Sinclair’s eyes widened in surprise when he saw the large wad of cash. The man smiled, obviously enthusiastic about earning money for the charity. “No need for that, this is an open bar.” He slapped Chuck on the shoulder. “However, I hope you brought your checkbook?”
“Yes, of course.” He motioned for Casey to open his briefcase and take out a check ledger. He then leaned over the table to sign the check and handed it to Sinclair.
“Ten-Thousand dollars. A very generous offer. We thank you.” He folded the check and slipped it into his left breast pocket.
Sarah walked up to the three gentlemen carrying a large tray. “Hors d'oeuvre?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Sinclair said, grabbing the bite-sized appetizer. “Smoked mozzarella profiterole.” He stuffed it into his mouth and licked his lips while sizing up Sarah.
Chuck noticed Sinclair eyeing her up and down, and then continued to check her out as she walked away and worked the room. His eyes were drinking in the sight of her when she bent over to pick up a napkin dropped on the floor.
“Real nice,” he mumbled under his breath. “Mr. Carmichael, what business are you in?”
“I’m an import/export broker,” Chuck said, taking a mouthful of wine. The wine boasted a toasty, buttery characteristic in both the aroma and flavor.
“Did a little import/export business myself, back in the day. What do you specialize in?”
Chuck nodded. “Mostly mergers and acquisitions, but I am interested in—” he glanced around the room and lowered his voice. “Commodities. I understand you are the man to see about purchasing merchandise.”
Sinclair called the attention of the bartender. “Dave, gin and tonic, please.”
“Right away, Mr. Sinclair.” The eager bartender poured the gin and the tonic water into a highball glass filled with ice cubes and, after stirring, he garnished it with a lime wedge and placed the drink on the counter.
Sinclair took a leisurely sip and then turned around to talk to his guests. “Sorry. I’m no longer in that line of work.”
Chuck raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
Sinclair shook his head and moved his finger back and forth on the rim of his glass. “Twenty-six years in the slammer can change a man. Some let hate consume them and think nothing but revenge and it destroys them, while others go back to school or learn a trade. Then in my case, some of us find religion. I accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior. He took upon my sins and forgave me. . . ”
Meanwhile, out in the surveillance van, parked on the street around the corner of the hotel, Lee paced the narrow aisle like a caged animal, while Amanda sat trying to listen to the exchange inside. She gave up, laying the headphones down on the table. “Lee, this isn’t helping. Please sit down. You’re making me dizzy.”
He took a seat in the chair next to Amanda, she turned on the overhead speakers and through the transceiver, they both heard the conversation between Chuck, Casey and Sinclair. Sinclair’s voice filled the van “. . . he lead me out of the darkness and into the light. Now I only serve God and my fellowmen. Metaphorically speaking, I am no longer blind.”
Lee’s fist slammed into the metal table and he stood up. “Just wait until I get my hands on you, Sinclair. You won’t need to fake blindness after I gouge your eyes out. He then punched the van wall panel. “Better yet, I’ll remove another part of your anatomy.” He gripped his wrist, which began to sting.
Amanda rose quickly and flipped one of the switches on the control panel turning off the speaker, then walked over to him, grabbing his hands and held them to her side to prevent him from doing more damage to his hands or the van. “Lee.”
“Amanda,” he pleaded. “The S.O.B. has our daughter. I’m going in there and throttling him until he gives up her location.” He twisted, releasing her grip on him and took a step toward the rear door. “I’m not sitting on my thumbs anymore.”
She grabbed him again and turned him so he was facing her, then ran her hands up his chest and down his arm, swiftly handcuffing him to the metal table that was bolted to the van floor. “Stay in the van!”
Lee reached his uncuffed hand toward his shirt collar stay.
“And you can forget about your half rake.” She held it up for him to see. “I have it.”
“A-man-da!” he said, clearly agitated. He tried to lift his cuffed wrist only to be stopped by the metal links and jerked his hand back a couple of times.
Amanda glared at him. “You don’t think I’m aware he has her? You don’t think I want him as much as you do. I want our daughter back home, too. Nevertheless, we need to let Chuck, Casey and Sarah do their jobs and not blow their covers. We can’t afford for Sinclair to recognize us or we may never find Emily. In addition, this is not only about her or us, but stopping a human trafficking ring.”
Lee stared at her in disbelief, and then slowly nodded his head; subsequently he lowered himself back down into the chair. “I can’t believe you cuffed me.”
Amanda cast Lee a sideways glance and then turned her attention back to the transceiver, listening into the conversation once again. . .
“. . . Dinner will be served at 6:00pm and Mrs. Shepherd will be a special guest speaker. In the meantime, enjoy the reception and open bar,” she heard Sinclair say. A few moments later, she heard Chuck’s voice, “Lee, Amanda, did you catch all that?”
“We heard it all, Chuck,” Amanda answered. “Do you think he took the bait?”
Chuck held his finger to his ear, touching the earpiece, and then spoke into the intercom on his wristwatch. “I’d say hook, line and sinker the way he was undressing Sarah with his eyes. What about our act?”
“If I know Sinclair, he’s checking out your identities now,” Lee said. “The trap’s been laid, now all you need to do is to make sure you get invited to the next trade show.”
Back inside the hotel banquet room, Sinclair took a sip of his drink as he watched Chuck and Casey walk away. A moment later, the powerful muscled man stood beside Sinclair. “We might have a potential buyer, Tony.” He removed the check from his pocket and read the name. “Carmichael Industries. Check out their story.”
“And if they’re cops?”
“Kill them.”
The henchman began to walk away, but Sinclair grabbed him by the arm and motioned toward Sarah. “Bring her into the family.”
*****
Sarah walked through the dark parking garage headed toward her Porsche. The sound of her patent leather heels hitting the asphalt bounced off the concrete walls. She held her keys in one hand and pushed the key remote. The car beeped twice and the parking lights flashed. She arrived at her car and reached for the door handle when she suddenly felt a presence. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught movement in the driver-side door mirror. She swung around. Her immediate instinct was to fight back, knowing she could easily kill the two men who were attacking her. Going against all her training, she willingly let her captors outmaneuver her, and soon the sweet smell of chloroform filled her nostrils. Her head felt fuzzy and she lost all strength. The last thing she observed was a black van rolling up to them, and the side panel door sliding open, before darkness crept into her vision and total blackness enveloped her world.
*****
Echo Park - Chuck and Sarah’s Apartment
“Are you sure we’re doing the right thing allowing Sarah to be kidnapped?” Chuck asked.
“Walker’s a big girl, she can take care of herself,” Casey told him. “Just be sure when Sinclair calls you tell him you are interested in previewing the auction. Don’t take no for an answer.”
Chuck nodded his head.
Amanda and Lee were sitting across from each other at the dining room table listening to Casey and Chuck.
“You’re taking a big risk letting one of your team members get snatched like that. . . too many variables,” Lee said.
“Did you have a better idea?” Chuck lashed out, clearly worried himself.
Lee stood up and thrust his hands deep into his pants pockets. “I need some fresh air.” He walked to the front door, stepped outside, strode over to the courtyard fountain and sat down.
“Daddy. Daddy,” he heard his young daughter in a far-off memory cry.
She ran into his arms and he picked her up and tossed her into the air. She squealed in delight. “I drew a picture for you in school today. Want to see?”
“Can we keep it, please Daddy?” She held up a tiny black and white ball of fluff and looked at him with pleading brown eyes—the same eyes as his Amanda.
“Dad, can I borrow the car?”
“Guess what?” She held up the college application letter. ”I was accepted to Stanford. Thanks for believing in me.”
He pulled her into a bear hug. “Love you, Emily.”
“I love you, too, Dad.”
His shoulders slumped and he laid his head in his hands in a moment of quiet desperation.
Meanwhile, back inside the apartment Amanda said, “Chuck, Lee didn’t mean anything by his remark. He’s worried for Sarah, as much as he is for Emily.”
The room was soon filled with a loud beeping noise.
“That’s Walker. She’s turned on the tracking device.” Casey turned on the television set in the living room and a large map of the greater Los Angeles area appeared on the screen. “Like a rat to the cheese, the slime-ball took the bait.”
“Where is she?” Amanda stood up from the dining room table and turned her attention to the screen.
Casey looked up from the monitor and replied, “The GPS tracking device has them near the warehouse district at the moment.”
Amanda walked over to the door and momentarily stepped outside to inform Lee what was happening and they both came back into the living room. All the agents gathered around the couch, watching the monitor.
A green blip on the screen continued to move. “We know exactly where she is and soon, we’ll know where they plan on taking her,” Casey smugly answered. At that very moment, the monitor flickered a couple times and then went blank.
“Damn!”
“What?” Chuck said as he hurled himself over the couch.
“I don’t know. Somehow we lost the signal.”
“What?” Chuck stared at Casey incredulously.
“See for yourself. The signal’s no longer there.”
“Computer malfunction or are they jamming us?”
“How would I know? You’re the computer geek, now fix it.”
Chuck’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “It’s gone. What did you do, Casey?”
“Nothing.”
“What do you mean nothing? You must have done something?”
“Really Bartowski, I did nothing. You were right here when the screen flickered and then went blank.”
Lee let out a shrill whistle getting everyone in the room’s attention. They all turned around to look at him.
“Would you two quit bickering? You’re almost as bad as Phillip and Jamie.”
Ashamed, Chuck and Casey nodded their heads.
“Good. Now, do you happen to have a map, Chuck?”
“A map?”
“Yes, you know long before MapQuest and GPS, we used maps.”
“I think there might be one in my bedroom.” He pointed down the hallway.
Lee hurried down the hall and into Chuck’s room and then a few seconds later returned. He opened the Rand McNally Road Atlas book and laid it out on the dining room table. “This is why I hate computers,” he mumbled under his breath. “What was her last location before the signal was lost?”
“Near the warehouse district,” Casey answered.
Lee traced his index finger to the section of the map of California. “Yes, makes perfect sense.”
Amanda put her arm around him and looked over his shoulder. “What makes perfect sense?”
He pointed to the Pacific Ocean. “Not far from the warehouse district are several marinas.”
“Call the coast guard,” Amanda piped in. “And check records for recent yacht purchases, although he changes the name of the ship frequently and is constantly on the move, never staying in one place for long.”
“Don’t know why I didn’t think of it before, leopards never change their spots,” Lee said.
“Can you two fill the rest of the class in?” Casey asked.
“Sinclair has a penchant for luxurious boats. He’s probably hiding Emily and Sarah on his yacht.”
*****
On the top deck of the yacht, Robert Sinclair reclined back on the chaise lounger enjoying the heat from the early afternoon sun on his face. He pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head, picked up the business card lying on the side table, followed by the mobile phone, and punched in the number on the card.
Back at Chuck and Sarah’s apartment, the team assembled in the room. Chuck’s cell phone rang and Chuck, noticing it was an unknown number slid the phone over to Amanda. She answered it in a slightly nasal voice. “Carmichael Industries. How may I direct your call? Yes, Mr. Sinclair. Let me see if Mr. Carmichael is available to answer your call. Could you hold for one moment, please?”
“Yes, I'll hold.”
Amanda put the phone on hold and slid it back toward Chuck.
“Mr. Sinclair,” Chuck said, finding his voice, he then put the phone on speaker. “To what do I owe this pleasure? I hope there was no problem with the check.”
“No, no problem,” he replied with a quick laugh. “However, there’s another business matter I would like to talk to you about.”
“Go ahead. I’m listening.”
“There’s an upcoming trade show and I was wondering if you would like your name added to the guest list?”
“You don’t say. I thought you told me you are no longer in that line of work.”
“I apologize; I needed to check you out first. . . to verify you aren’t with the Feds.”
“The Feds.” Chuck laughed apprehensively. “So, what is the verdict?”
“You’re clean.”
“Good. Then I would like a private preview of the show.”
“That is not how I do business.”
“How do you do things, Mr. Sinclair?”
“I fill the orders by scoping cultured women who visit my fundraisers. When I find someone whom I think fits the client’s needs and description, I take her picture and email it off. If you like what you see, make me an offer.” He reached over to the end table and grabbed a portfolio. He opened the album and looked over the photos of his current inventory. “However, special clients are given first right of refusal and the rest are sold in private auctions.”
“Very intriguing." Chuck paused for a moment trying not to appear too eager. “And what do I have to do to become a preferred customer? I want to make a purchase this evening.”
“This evening, hmm? Is there something in particular you are looking for?”
"I'm a very picky man, Mr. Sinclair."
"I assure you Mr. Carmichael I have a wide selection.”
“Alright.” Chuck pretended to think for a minute. "Tall. Thin. Shoulder-length hair. Young.”
“How young? I’m not into kiddie porn or jail bait. However, I know who to hook you up with if that is the sort of thing you are into.”
Chuck coughed and stammered, “No. No. Not that young.”
“Of course.”
“Early to mid-twenties. I’m thinking 5’7” to 5’9.”
Sinclair nodded his head, although he knew the party on the other end could not see him nod. “Go on.”
“Brunette.”
“Brunette, really?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“You come across more as a gentleman who prefers blondes.”
Chuck spread his hands nimbly over the dining room table and silently drummed his long fingers. He looked around the room at the other agents and noticing Casey nodding his head, he continued, “I’m a very busy man and could use companionship on my next business trip. Do you have someone in mind?”
Sinclair was silent for a moment.
“Mr. Sinclair.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Carmichael. I had someone who might have worked, but she’s already. . . how should I say this. . . taken.”
Amanda gasped and then threw her hand over her mouth.
Not hearing the disturbance, Sinclair continued, “Cute, young, brunette. However, she was already sold to a Frenchman.”
Chuck glanced around the room and noticed Casey holding up three fingers. “I’ll pay three times his price,” he quickly chimed in.
“Three times, huh?”
“Yes. And if she is what I am looking for I guarantee I will pay a handsome finder's fee.”
Sinclair rubbed his chin and leaned back. He had a speculative look on his face.
Chuck continued, “That is, if she hasn’t left the country yet.”
Sinclair was silent again. The wheels inside his brain turning.
“Are you still there?” Chuck asked.
“Yes. Yes, I’m here. Today’s your lucky day, Mr. Carmichael.”
“Good. Now, is she healthy? If she's damaged goods, I will have to drop the price."
“I can assure you; she is in perfect health.”
Lee and Amanda exchanged a relieved glance.
“Do you want to view her first? I could email you a picture.”
“Actually,” he replied with a sheepish grin. “I would prefer to sample the goods.”
Sinclair flashed a wolfish smirk to his lackeys. “I have a couple ladies who I’m sure would be more than willing to entertain. I’ll have my driver pick you up. . . let’s say six o’clock?”
“Six o’clock sounds good. You may pick me and my personal executive assistant up at the front entrance of the Winter Garden Hotel and Suites.”
“I would prefer you come alone.”
“Do you want to be paid?” Chuck said firmly.
“Fine.” Sinclair hung up the phone and turned to his men. "Tony, why don't you bring our two guests up on deck? I think I might have to check the blonde out, since it appears brunettes are in.” He chuckled softly. “Oh well, I don’t plan on keeping her long.”
*****
Sarah came back to awareness slowly, her body still aching from the earlier assault. Rolling off the bed, she tried to stand. She felt so dizzy she couldn't even see straight, and she felt like her head was going to explode from the pressure. Stumbling to the door, she checked the handle.
“It’s locked,” she heard a voice say.
Sarah spun around noticing for the first time another figure in the room with her. She shook her head a few times, trying to loosen the cobwebs in her mind. "Who's there?" she asked hesitantly. Finally, she made out the figure of another woman, about 5 foot, 9 inches with curly, dark brown, shoulder-length hair. “Emily?”
“Who wants to know?”
“My name is Sarah Walker. I’m with the CIA and friends of your parents.”
“Mom and Dad are here?”
Sarah nodded her head.
“Thank God.”
At that moment, the door opened and a stream of light flooded the small room. Mr. Sinclair’s big, muscular assistant entered the room touting a semi-automatic machine gun and addressed them, "Okay, ladies you’re going to come with me, but first put these on.” He tossed a couple of bikinis onto the table.
The man didn’t leave.
“Do you mind?” Sarah snapped. “We’d like some privacy.”
The man’s lips curved into a smile and he winked. “I’ll be right outside the door if either one of you ladies needs any help.” He then left the room and shut the door behind him.
Sarah picked up the bathing suit and began to undress.
“What are you doing?” asked Emily.
“I’m killing time until reinforcements arrive. Just do what he says and we’ll be okay.”
“How would you like to be a hero? Be able to contribute to the strength and security of the United States. Your Mom and Dad were the best team the Agency ever had. The CIA could use you,” Emily mumbled under her breath.
“Huh?”
“Nothing, just remembering the recruitment speech I received.”
Sarah nodded her head in understanding. “Do you know why you are here, Emily?”
“I believe the animal runs a human trafficking ring.”
“That’s correct.”
“He plans to sell us to the highest bidder. He told me, he ‘provides a delicate service to lonely, but very wealthy men’.”
“The bastard.” Sarah reached around her back to tie off the top piece of the bathing suit.
Then Emily finished getting dressed. The skimpy two-piece bathing suit left nothing to the imagination. The icy ball that had been in the pit of her stomach since the moment she'd been snatched from her hotel room began to grow. She leaned her back against the wall and slid down, doing everything she could to hold back the tears glistening in her eyes, but slowly her lower lip began to tremble and the tears began to fall.
“Hey, none of that.” Sarah walked over to Emily and put her hand on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry.” She used the back of her hand to wipe away her tears. “I’m not being very professional, am I? This is not how trainee agents are supposed to behave.”
“I know plenty of seasoned professionals who get scared. Now, let me see if I can get the ‘brute squad’ to bring us some makeup and hair products, okay?”
Emily smiled at her. “Okay.”
*****
Robert Sinclair leaned against the rail from the upper deck of his yacht, gazing out to sea watching the first golden rays from the sun set low in the sky, slowly dipping below the watery horizon. Hearing a noise behind him, he turned to gaze at his two guests who his henchman, Aaron, had led up to the floor. His eyes drank in the sight of them. They were a vision of loveliness and beauty. They were both dressed in two-piece bathing suits and had a Sarong wrapped around their hips. After a moment's consideration, he gave a reluctant sigh. Most likely he had lost out on the brunette to this Carmichael character, but the blond he wouldn’t have to sell right away. A sinister smile slowly crept across his face as he thought about what he could do with her.
“Ladies, so glad you could join me this evening.”
Sarah glanced around the deck noticing a glass-top table setup elegantly with fine china and silver, a lace tablecloth, and a bottle of Pinot Noir. The deck itself was surrounded with candles and cylinder vases filled with floral arrangements including pink roses, red tulips, purple Mokara orchids, light-blue hyacinth, and bluish-violet sea lavender. The intoxicating smells permeated her senses. Sarah also couldn’t help but notice there were four place settings. She observed Sinclair walk over to the table, and, lifting the bottle of wine, he turned to pop the cork and then poured a little into the glasses. Grinning, he motioned to them to join him. “Sit down ladies.”
“No, not until you tell us what this is about,” Sarah said boldly.
Sinclair’s expression turned serious. “Entertainment. Nothing more.” He paused, smiled and then continued, “—at the moment. However, you will be entertaining our guest tonight and I hope I won’t have to drug you to earn your cooperation.” He pointed to the mini-bar where Aaron stood watch, his arms folded across his chest. The bar held not only various liquor bottles, but also drug paraphernalia. “If you cooperate, things will go much smoother for both of you.”
Squeezing Emily’s hand to reassure her, although she had to admit she was worried herself, wondering where her fiancé and the rest of her team were, Sarah took a tentative step forward.
Sinclair pulled out a chair for her. "You look enchanting, especially in this light.” He briefly closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply the exhilarating scent of Sarah's hair. Then he pulled out a chair for Emily.
Emily swallowed hard, but obliged him and sat down.
He then sat down himself, placing a napkin on his lap. “I hope you ladies like grilled salmon, baked potatoes, and garden salad with a light vinaigrette dressing, and a side of cheesy garlic bread.”
The hair on the back of Sarah’s neck prickled, but she forced a smile. “Sounds delicious.”
A second later, there was a commotion on the deck, Sarah turned around in her chair and saw Chuck and Casey standing topside. Their heads were covered. Tony then removed their hoods.
Sinclair stood up and walked over to the men. “I apologize for that, but our little operation needs to stay anonymous.”
“Quite all right, I guess,” Chuck said, finding his voice. He glanced over at Sarah, caught her eye and briefly nodded. Sarah smiled back at him; relief shown on her face.
Sinclair shook Casey’s hand. “Mr. Casey, you are welcome to stay on deck if you like. Aaron would be happy to mix you a drink.”
Casey stepped toward the bar. “Ah, just a Coke, if you have one?”
“Sure I can’t make you a Shirley Temple?” Aaron laughed, and winked at him, then turned his back and removed a can of Coke from the refrigerator and placed it on the bar.
“Thanks,” Casey grumbled, popping the soda can open.
“Mr. Carmichael or may I call you Charles?”
“Charles is fine.”
“Charles, I would like to introduce you to your date this evening.” He motioned for Emily to stand up. “Emily. Stand up, Girl. Give Charles a gander at the merchandise.”
Emily looked over at Sarah and she gave her a reassuring nod. Obliging, she stood up and turned around slowly.
“Do you like what you see?”
“Yes. Yes, very much,” Chuck said, trying to fight the bile in the back of his throat.
“Won’t you join us for dinner?” Sinclair straightened his tie and then sat back down. “We can discuss terms after our meal.”
Chuck sat down at the table next to Emily. Nervously, he lifted the wine glass to his lips and took a sip.
Meanwhile, Lee and Amanda sat in a nondescript sedan in the parking lot of the Harbor Point Marina. Seagulls greedily scavenged for food while Amanda looked through high-powered binoculars at the various yachts and boats moored at their slips. “I see them.”
Lee squinted into the setting sun. “Where?”
“Fourteenth berth from the left.”
Using his own binoculars, Lee spotted the yacht, too. “Got it.” He opened the car door, stepped outside and turned toward Amanda.
“Don’t even think about telling me to stay in the car, Stetson.”
“I won’t dream of it, Dear.” Lee then walked around to the other side of the car, opened the door and leaned inside. “Call the authorities tell them we are at the Harbor Point Marina and the yacht’s name is the Sand Piper.”
All of a sudden, Lee heard the sound of a Glock 9mm slide, felt a large muscular hand grasp his upper arm, and the cool steel barrel of a gun shoved into his ribs.
“Nice and easy,” the deep-voiced man said.
Lee held up his hands.
“You too, Lady.” He motioned to Amanda with the gun.
Amanda slid out of her seat and raised her hands up in the air.
“You realize kidnapping federal agents is a serious crime, don’t you? Where are you taking us? You want us to walk over to the Sand Piper berth?” she questioned in a rather loud voice.
Lee gave her a brief sideways glance and arched an eyebrow.
“Shut up and move,” the henchman told them, shoving them both forward. He glanced around the parking area making sure no one else was around. Satisfied, he led them toward the gates into the marina. Then punched the code into the keypad and swung open the access gate and motioned for them both to go through the chain link entrance.
Having no desire for him or his wife to be shot, Lee stumbled down the aluminum-framed platform. They continued walking down the dock until they reached the berth, then they walked up the gangplank, onto the vessel, and finally to the upper deck.
Sinclair’s eyes widened in surprise.
Seeing the gun pressed into Lee’s side, Chuck stood up and threw down his napkin. "May I inquire as to the meaning of all this?”
“Sit down and shut up, Mr. Carmichael. If that is really your name?” He made sure Aaron and Tony had guns trained on all his guests. “Now, Mr. Casey, if you would kindly step away from the bar.”
Casey grunted, but complied.
Chuck glanced around the deck. “Again, I must ask, what is the meaning of this?”
“You take me for a fool. You honestly think I would believe your cover story when Lee and Amanda Stetson show up just a few minutes after you arrive?” Sinclair then took a step toward Amanda. “Why Amanda, nice to see you again.” Coming up behind her, he put his arm around her waist, pulling her close and pressed her against him. He cupped the underside of her breast and inhaled her sweet fragrance. “What beautiful perfume you are wearing.” He then turned her around to look at her. “Still as stunning as I remember.”
“Why you son of a—” Lee spit out.
Sinclair motioned for Tony to grab Lee and he grasped him from behind by the arms.
Lee struggled to free himself. “Just wait until I get my hands on you. I’ll kill you.”
“Temper. Temper, Mr. Stetson.” Sinclair glided his hand down Amanda’s cheek, grabbed her chin, and forced her to look into his eyes. “Looks like I get a two for one deal on both Stetson women.”
“What do you want us to do with the men, Boss?” Tony asked.
“Kill them.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Kill them all.”
“Gladly.” Sinclair’s man pointed his weapon at Lee’s head.
A flash immediately enveloped Chuck’s senses. Fighting stances, diagrams, and techniques exploded in his mind. He blinked a couple of times, while his vision shifted into focus, and then briefly nodded to his team before throwing the first punch connecting straight across Tony’s jaw. Lee broke free from the grip and ducked.
Chuck swung a second punch knocking the gun out of his hand. Tony staggered, but quickly recovering, he swung at Chuck. However, Chuck bent backward and felt his knuckles swish past his nose. Successfully blocking another strike, he then grabbed the assailant’s fist and twisted his arm, flipping him. Chuck then turned the man over and pressing his knee into his back, he cuffed him.
When the fighting started, Amanda quickly stomped on Sinclair’s foot and then shoved him backwards. She rushed over to Emily dragging her away from the skirmish. She pulled Emily close to her, crouching down; they hid around the corner by the navigation bridge.
Meanwhile, Casey lunged, tackling Aaron against the bar. Aaron recovered and punched Casey in the mouth, splitting Casey’s lip. Casey wiped the blood from his mouth with his hand, and then punched the henchman in the gut. Aaron made contact again hitting him hard enough to knock him off balance and he fell against the counter. Aaron put his hands around Casey’s neck. Casey reached for something to use as a weapon, picked up a bottle of gin, and hit his assailant over the head. Glass shattered with a thundering crash, the man crumpled to the deck floor, out cold.
“Shirley Temple this,” Casey said, turning the man over and placing a maraschino cherry on his closed lips.
The Captain of the Sand Piper came running up the stairs from the lower deck, gun blazing; however, Sarah turned at the sound, leapt to her feet, and with a flying roundhouse kick to his lower back, she sent him sprawling over the rail of the yacht. He splashed into the water.
Lee grabbed Sinclair by the arm spinning him around and then threw him across the table. The contents of the table flew in every direction. Sinclair recovered and kicked Lee off him and made connection to Lee’s gut, temporarily knocking the wind out of him.
Sinclair was about to make contact again, when Lee dove into him. He staggered back against the table a second time. Lee punched him hard, and then punched him again knocking him out. Lee raised his fist for a third time, when Amanda leapt to her feet and ran to Lee, grabbing his arm. "Lee!"
He stared at her; his eyes expressionless.
"Lee, that's enough," she admonished him, as she shook him.
Lee then focused on her and looked around the deck, noticing the fighting was over, he began to relax.
Soon a United States Coast Guard boat arrived on scene and fished the captain out of the water and Guardsmen rushed the yacht carrying assault rifles. A Coast Guard helicopter hovered over the scene.
“Everyone freeze!” yelled the Chief Petty Officer.
"Colonel John Casey, NSA.” John told them, holding up his federal ID.
The Chief Petty Officer took the leather case from Casey and examined the ID. “What’s the story, Colonel?”
Casey grunted. "Kidnapping, smuggling, human trafficking, take your pick."
Lee then picked Sinclair off the table by his shirt and shoved him toward one of the guardsmen.
Sinclair and his men were gathered and then escorted off the yacht.
Glad to see the chaos over and relieved her parents were safe, yet still visually shaken Emily stood up. “Mom, Dad.” She ran into her parents waiting arms, while Sarah found a blanket, and wrapped it around Emily’s shoulders.
“Thanks again, Bartowski.” Lee extended his free hand toward Chuck.
“You're welcome.” Chuck returned the gesture and then pulled Sarah toward him. “Are you okay?”
“Perfect. I’m just glad I have you to save me.”
He smiled at her, his deep brown eyes twinkling. “You’ll always have me, Sarah.”
"Good." She stretched up to kiss him and their lips met briefly.
"Ugh." Casey made a disgusted sound, rolled his eyes, and stepped away from the couple.
*****
Epilogue
Inside Castle, the whole gang sat around the conference table listening to the General who appeared on the monitor. “Lee, Amanda, Team Bartowski, you saved a lot of people from falling victim to human trafficking. I’m happy to report the rest of the women have been found and reunited with their families, and Sinclair and his men will be spending a long, long time in prison for their crimes.”
“Too bad we can't sell Sinclair off just like he was selling those women,” Casey mumbled while closing the case file that lay in front of him.
“I offer congratulations on a job done well.” General Beckman looked like she was about to turn off the communication link, when she paused, and leaned forward. “Emily Stetson.”
“General Beckman.” Emily shifted in her seat and sat up a little straighter in her chair.
“You handled yourself well, especially for a spy in training. I realize that something like this so early in your career may make you re-evaluate your decision to join the team. Please take your time and decide what you would like to do and get back to me with your verdict.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
General Beckman gave an affirmative nod and then the screen changed to the blue background with the CIA logo.
Casey, Chuck and Sarah stood up from the conference table, headed separate ways going about other duties to begin their workday. Lee stood up and put a hand on Emily’s shoulder. Amanda who was sitting next to Emily put her hand on her daughter’s thigh.
"Emily, when we found out it was you who was missing, you had your mother and I scared to death."
“I’m sorry, Dad.”
“We wished you had come to us first when you were recruited. It really was a decision we would have discussed as a family.” Lee wagged his fingers between the three of them.
Emily slowly nodded her head. “How would you feel about having another spy in the family?”
Lee smiled at her. “I’m not going to lie to you, I would much rather you take a nice safe job teaching kindergartners than being an intelligence operative; however, it’s in your blood. It’s a part of who you are and you are the best of both your mom and I, and we couldn’t be any more proud.”
Emily stood up to hug her dad, and then bent down to hug her mom. “I love you, guys.”
“We love you, Em,” Amanda told her.
“Incidentally, how did the Coast Guard know where to find us?”
Lee pointed to Amanda. “As usual, it was thanks to your mother’s quick thinking.”
Emily turned to look at her mother. “Mom?”
Amanda shrugged her shoulders. “Morgan tracked the cell phone signal. I had called Castle right before Sinclair’s man grabbed us and laid the phone down on the floorboard. Morgan would have heard the commotion and called in the cavalry.”
“I am so glad he did. Thanks, Mom.”
“You are not the only one who is grateful. Your mom has been watching my back for many years now. I could not ask for a better partner, friend, or wife.”
Amanda threw an enigmatic smile in his direction.
“By the way, Dad, have you ever worked with kindergartners? I think I’d rather deal with being interrogated by terrorists any day then spend the afternoon in a room full of five-year olds.”
Lee threw back his head and laughed. “I’ll take your word on that, Emily.”
Lee, Amanda and Emily stood up to leave and headed toward the stairs leading out of Castle, while on the store monitor, Dr. Woody Woodcomb entered through the double glass sliding doors of the Buy More. . . . . . . .