"Chuck versus the Weekend"
A Chuck/Scarecrow and Mrs. King crossover story set the summer between seasons three and four of Chuck, before Chuck finds his mom.
Author's note: I’m a huge fan of both Scarecrow and Mrs. King and Chuck and often see similarities between the two shows—after all, they both focus on "danger, excitement, intrigue." Both shows center on ordinary people becoming involved in extraordinary situations. A civilian, if you have, becoming mixed up in the world of espionage and forever changing the ‘lone wolf’ spy they are paired with.
Rated PG-13 for language and mild sexual situations.
Special thanks to those girls who helped me brainstorm and Grey Fool for beta reading and Annette for catching my boo-boos.
Anne Riener
A Chuck/Scarecrow and Mrs. King crossover story set the summer between seasons three and four of Chuck, before Chuck finds his mom.
Author's note: I’m a huge fan of both Scarecrow and Mrs. King and Chuck and often see similarities between the two shows—after all, they both focus on "danger, excitement, intrigue." Both shows center on ordinary people becoming involved in extraordinary situations. A civilian, if you have, becoming mixed up in the world of espionage and forever changing the ‘lone wolf’ spy they are paired with.
Rated PG-13 for language and mild sexual situations.
Special thanks to those girls who helped me brainstorm and Grey Fool for beta reading and Annette for catching my boo-boos.
Anne Riener
Prologue
He was tired. Tired of the political posturing and bickering. Tired of the broken promises and lies. Tired of the backroom deals and lobbying. Moreover, he was tired of defending his representatives; especially those who were supposed to hold the same beliefs and ideology as him.
Carrying water bottles and newspapers into the kitchen, he put them in their respective recycling bins. Next, he walked over to the double basin sink and stuck his hand in the cold water, removing the glass jars he had soaking. Peeling off the labels, he put them in the glass recycling bin. He then stared out the front window over his sunbaked lawn.
How could his congresswoman say those things? Didn’t she know who she represented? “Why destroy a dam that produces electricity for hundreds of thousands, just for a few more campsites,” she had said.
He regretfully shook his head.
No, it would be up to him to right the wrong. To return things back to the way the Creator had intended, before man had raped the land.
*****
Walking across the weathered decking, Chuck Bartowski and Sarah Walker both carried double-scooped ice cream cones, and then sat down at one of the many hexagon tables with forest green umbrellas that filled the outdoor eating arena. After sitting down on the bench, Sarah swung her legs over Chuck’s lap. The two watched the scene around them. People scurried about on the wooden patio eating and talking, children ran down the gravel walking paths laughing and playing, while blue jays and California gray squirrels were on constant lookout for table scraps.
The two ate their ice cream in relative silence. Chuck watched Sarah lick the hand-dipped ice cream in a slow circle, running the tip of her tongue between ice cream and the waffle cone. The ice cream soon began to melt and drip in the hot summer sun.
Chuck noticed a bit of chocolate on Sarah’s cheek right by her lips.
"You've got a little ice cream. . . " Chuck told her.
Sarah tried to reach the smudge with her tongue. “There?”
Chuck shook his head while watching Sarah grab a napkin. He caught her hand before it reached its destination. “Here, let me.” Chuck leaned in and kissed her gingerly on the lips. He then pulled back and smiled at her.
“Did you get it?” Her eyes twinkled at him in amusement.
“I’m working on it.” He lowered his mouth to hers again and kissed her deeply.
Breaking apart, Sarah sighed and rested her head on his shoulder.
“So, tell me Ms. Walker, have you ever been to Yosemite?”
“Are you kidding? My dad wasn’t into the whole camping thing when I was growing up.” Lifting her head, she swatted at a mosquito that landed on her leg. “What about you, Mr. Bartowski?”
“A few times my folks brought Ellie and me up here— that was before my mother. . . well, you know—” his voice trailed off, and he took a deep, shuddering breath.
Seeing the anguish in his face, Sarah grabbed his hand and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “I understand.”
Several minutes later, they had both finished their ice cream. Sarah looked around her taking in the spectacular scenery. Jagged mountain peaks loomed overhead, and massive granite cliffs framed the valley from every direction. The sky was laced with white feathery clouds. "It's beautiful, isn't it?”
“It sure is,” he said, gazing upon her.
He watched blush crept up her cheeks, and she ducked her head, but then quickly recovered. Looking up, her clear, blue eyes drank in the sight of him. “Thanks for bringing me to Yosemite. Are you sure you don’t want to climb El Capitan later?”
“No, I’ll leave the rock climbing to Captain Awesome. Feet firmly planted on the ground is just fine by me.”
In the background, on the other end of the patio, Chuck spotted a man reading a book. He immediately recognized the familiar face. “Speaking of Captain Awesome. What is Dr. Woodcomb doing here?”
“Devon’s here?” Sarah asked, trying to turn around.
“No, Awesome’s dad. I’m going over there to say hello.” He untangled himself from Sarah and stood up, chucked the ice cream cone jacket in the garbage can, before he walked over to the other table.
“Dr. Woodcomb. Chuck, Ellie’s brother. Fancy meeting you here. Visiting from Connecticut? Vacation or convention? By the way, where’s Honey?” The words came out in a rush, tumbling one over another.
“Huh?” The man looked up, his hand over his eyes squinting in the sun to see who was talking to him. “Sorry, Sport, but I think you have me confused with someone else.” He stood up and began to turn away.
“Wow! Now! You’re the spitting image of my sister’s father-in-law.”
The man looked back at Chuck, sizing him up. “I can’t say I know you or your sister. The name is Stetson, Lee Stetson.” He held out his hand in greeting.
Suddenly Chuck flashed and the familiar sensation captivated his senses. Images and information passed before his eyes. “Lee Stetson, codename Scarecrow. . . “
“How could you possibly—“
“. . . Recruited by Harry V. Thornton in 1978, worked for an American underground government group known as the Agency, cover IFF, also known as International Federal Film, until it merged with the CIA after the Cold War, Deputy Director . . .”
Lee put his hand on the handle of his Glock 9mm. “Who the hell are you kid, and how do you know those things about me?”
Chuck heard a gun cock and then his girlfriend's firm voice warn, “I wouldn’t if I were you.”
“Whoa there, Sarah!” Chuck waved frantically.
“And I suggest you put your weapon down,” a second feminine voice told Sarah. Chuck saw her pressing a gun into Sarah's side.
“Still watching my back after all the years, Amanda," Lee said, turning around to disarm Sarah.
Chuck flashed again. “Amanda King Stetson. Attended University of Virginia, majored in American Literature, housewife, mother of three, one-half of The Agency’s best team, recruited in 1983, several Presidential commendations and awards, married her partner in 1987. . .”
“Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” Lee demanded.
Amanda slowly lowered her gun, her eyes wide with surprise. “Oh my gosh! Lee, he’s an Intersect.”
Lee looked at her confused.
“You read up on it—the human intersect project,” Amanda explained.
Realization dawned the older agent's features. “You’re the one with the computer in your head,” he said to Chuck. “And you must be his handler?” Lee asked, handing back Sarah's sidearm.
Finally, Chuck spoke up, “Sarah, may I present Lee and Amanda Stetson. Lee is Deputy Director of A-TAC and Amanda is on his team.”
“A-TAC?” Sarah questioned.
“Anti-Domestic Terrorism Action Coalition,” Lee informed her. “And you are?”
“Chuck Bartowski, Sir, and this is Agent Sarah Walker, CIA.” Chuck put his arm around Sarah pulling her close.
After the introductions were over, Chuck asked, “What brings you to Yosemite? Not terrorism, I hope, because Sarah and I plan a terrorism free weekend.” He laughed, gesturing widely with his free hand, and then glanced around nervously.
“Post 9-11 you can never be too careful. But no, we came out to visit our daughter who is going to college out here in California, and since we had never seen Yosemite, we thought we would spend a few days here,” Lee explained, putting his arm around Amanda.
“This is Sarah’s first time, too.”
“Are you staying the whole weekend and where are you lodging?” Amanda asked them.
“Curry Village,” Chuck answered.
“That’s where Lee and I are staying. I take it that you’ve been here before, Chuck.” Amanda held up the Yosemite National Park Tour Guide Book. “We have plans to go horseback riding and then we’ll be seeing a show at the Yosemite Theater tomorrow night. What do you recommend?”
“Nothing beats the views from Glacier Point. Watching the sunset, seeing Yosemite’s peaks turn from granite grey to reddish-orange and the shadows gradually creep up from the valley to the top of the mountain peaks. Sarah and I plan on driving up there this evening.”
“That sounds amazing. Thanks for the suggestion. Maybe we’ll see you up there or at least sometime this weekend.” Amanda gently nudged Lee in the side.
Lee cleared his throat. “Yeah. It was nice meeting you both.”
After they exchanged handshakes and pleasantries again, the couples departed in opposite directions. Chuck turned around and spied Lee extending his hand to Amanda, entwining her fingers with his, as he heard him say, “Walk with me.”
*****
The following morning, Chuck entered the cabin and sat down on the bed next to Sarah. He caressed her face softly with his fingertips. Watching her eyes flutter open, she then smiled at him.
"How'd you sleep?"
"Just fine, once you let me fall asleep.” She sat up and gave him a quick peck. “And you?”
He laid back down on the bed, crossed his legs and placed his arms behind his head. “Great! What would you like to do today?”
She slipped out of bed and gathered her clothes from around the room. “How about I go take a shower, get dressed and then we can go for a hike. Any preference?”
“I was thinking we could ride the shuttle bus to Happy Isles Trailhead and then hike the Mist Trail, if that sounds good to you?”
“Sounds great, Sweetheart.” She placed a quick kiss on his nose.
He smiled at her. “I need to send General Beckman a fruit basket or something for letting you have this time off. Thanks for being here this weekend with me.”
“Chuck you’re still grieving for your father. I’m glad I’m here for you.”
She sat back down on the bed and he swiftly grabbed her, positioning her on top of him. She squealed and then laughed, leaning forward to capture his lips.
They were soon interrupted by the sound of Chuck’s cell phone playing Journey's "Any Way You Want It". Breaking apart, they both laughed. Chuck looked at his phone display and saw an image of Morgan grinning back at him from the backlit screen. Sarah rolled off the bed. Chuck reached out for her, but she shook her head 'no' while she got dressed. Chuck stuck out his lower lip, pouting. Then answered the phone.
“Hey, Buddy. Cell service is a bit spotty here, so you’ll have to speak up.” Chuck got off the bed and walked to the other side of the cabin, placing his finger next to his ear. “How’s training going with Casey? . . . You did what! . . . Ouch, that had to hurt. . . Don’t worry, Casey’s eyebrows will eventually grow back. . . We haven’t even been gone a day, tell him to chill out. . . Yeah, see you soon. Bye.”
“Morgan?” Sarah asked, wearing a pair of sweatpants, a yellow tank top and flip-flops, a bath towel draped over her shoulder, carrying a toiletry bag and travel size bottles of shampoo and body wash. “So how are things back at Castle?”
“Don’t ask.”
*****
A couple of hours after hiking the steep steps cut into the sheer granite face, Chuck took in the scene around him. The platform—not much more than a large outcropping of flat smooth rocks was already filled with tourists milling around and drying off in the bright early summer sunshine. Some hikers wore windbreakers, while others donned black plastic garbage bags over them, having cut out holes for their arms and head to stay dry. Mountain peaks jutted into the pale blue sky, and an array of flora and fauna loomed around them. The air held a heavy scent of pine.
The wind blowing down from the upper reaches of the Sierra Mountains scattered spray from the falls onto the trail and had soaked them both. His Dockers pants and navy-blue polo shirt were drenched, but the sun slowly heated his body and clothing that had been doused by the freezing water.
His eyes focused on Sarah seeing her standing next to the railing overlooking Vernal Falls. She was dressed in khaki shorts, a white cotton t-shirt, an unbuttoned flannel shirt, with sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and crew socks and hiking boots. Her hair she had pulled back into a ponytail. Sarah’s white soaked wet shirt hid nothing. Two very perky nipples were visible through the thin material, and her round breasts softly filled out the fabric. His eyes moved from his partner’s perfect figure and wordlessly he took two giant steps toward her wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close. She turned in his arms and they both took in the exquisiteness of the valley and the Merced River cascading over the edge for several minutes.
“Why do they call it the Mist Trail when it really should be called ‘why bother to take a shower’ trail?” Sarah laughed at her own joke.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize the falls were this full. You’re not mad you’re wet, are you?”
“I’m drying off quickly and the cold water from the falls was exhilarating. No, I’m not sorry, are you?”
“No!! Of course not.”
Smiling widely, he reached out and took her hand and led them to an empty bench. They both sat down. Chuck lay down a knapsack on the ground and unzipping the zipper he pulled out two water bottles and a granola bar for each of them. He handed them over to Sarah, who willingly accepted. He twisted off the cap and took a healthy swallow, then asked, “How are things at the CIA? How’s Casey?”
“You know I really can’t tell you what we are working on, but Casey misses you.”
“Yeah, right.” Chuck rolled his eyes. He removed the wrapper from his granola bar, and he placed the trash inside the front porch of the knapsack to be disposed of later. He then took a bite and chewed.
“How’s the job hunting going?”
“Well. . . some possible prospects, safe. . . boring jobs.” He cleared his throat, and then swallowed guiltily before replying. “I don’t deserve you, Sarah. What do I have to offer you? I’m just a temporarily unemployed Nerd Herder.”
“Chuck, you’re never just an anything.”
“You’re not mad I left the CIA?”
“Yes. . . no, I mean no. You made a promise to your sister and I respect that. But I thought we promised no shoptalk this weekend.”
Chuck nodded in agreement. “I love you.”
“I know.” She gave him a tender smile. “Hey now, race you up to the top of Nevada Falls.”
“Are you sure you’re up for the challenge Ms. Walker?”
“With you, Chuck, I'm up for anything.”
*****
Later that evening, darkness fell in Yosemite Valley. The mountain night was crisp, clear and cool. Stars shone bright against the black sky, with Half Dome submerged in moonlight reflected in the clear waters off Mirror Lake.
Chuck listened to the rhythmic galum-galum songs of croaking frogs and somewhere in the distance, he heard a coyote’s quivering cry, followed by several high-pitched yips. The night was calm and peaceful, and matched his mood perfectly. He sat on the ground, leaning against a tree, his long legs stretched out, spread open just enough for Sarah to sit between them. She reclined backwards against his chest, while he wrapped one arm tight across her abdomen. Resting his head on her shoulder, he inhaled the scent of her shampoo, mixed with, and then he chuckled, insect repellent. "It's a beautiful night, isn't it?" Chuck marveled, looking up at the night sky.
Sarah followed his gaze. “You don’t see this many stars in Burbank.”
He pointed to a cluster of bright stars. “Of course, there’s the Big Dipper which isn’t a constellation at all, but part of Ursa Major, and over there, that bright star is actually the planet Mars. Well to the west of the kite shape group of stars lies Leo the Lion, and southeast of Leo, is the constellation Virgo the Maiden.”
“Thanks Professor Bartowski for the private lesson,” she teased, kissing him on the cheek.
He chuckled low in his throat and pointed to another cluster of stars. “And over there is the constellation Orion." Chuck immediately grew quiet.
“You miss him, don’t you?” Sarah asked.
"Even though he wasn’t around to a great extent, I miss him very much." He fixed his eyes on the governor, clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. “Sarah?”
“Huh?” Sarah turned to face Chuck.
“Thanks again for coming here with me.”
"I wouldn't have missed this for the world."
Chuck reached out covering her hand with his own and gently squeezed it before they turned back to study the stars. Sarah then laid her head back on Chuck's shoulder. Neither spoke, until Sarah broke the silence a few moments later. ”Remember that night standing out on your back porch and I asked you to make a wish on a star out in the horizon?"
“Yes, the Air Force satellite—I remember."
“I assume you made that wish.” She snuggled deeper into his arms.
“Yes.”
“What did you wish for?”
“That Agent Walker is need to know.”
Sarah gave him a very unladylike snort.
Chuck laughed. “Fine, I’ll tell you.” He paused, then in a voice barely audible, he whispered, “I wished for a night like this.”
She wrapped her hands behind his neck to pull him down. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply. Soon the kisses intensified and took on a life all its own. He teased her lips gently with his tongue, begging for entrance, which she granted. Chuck could not seem to get enough of her, she tasted so good. He felt her fingers run through his hair. He shivered, and not because of the cold. Chuck's hands began a journey of their own over Sarah's back and sides. Ever so slowly, he worked his way under her t-shirt, his thumbs brushing the underside of her breast. Sarah moaned in his mouth. When breathing became a necessity, they both pulled back slightly. He then leaned his forehead against hers.
“Should we take this back to our cabin?” He asked breathlessly.
Sarah nodded and after standing up and brushing dirt and pine needles off her shorts, she took Chuck’s hand and helped him up. Chuck removed a flashlight from the side pocket of the knapsack, and shining it to the ground to illuminate their path, they walked hand in hand toward the shuttle stop.
*****
Sunlight filtered through the windows gradually warming the tiny cabin. Chuck slowly opened his eyes feeling surprisingly rested. Smiling to himself, he listened to the sound of gentle breezes blowing through the tops of Ponderosa pine trees. He also listened to the fluting songs and soft whistled calls of the mountain bluebirds. The sounds were soothing. Sarah spooned against him, stirred for a moment in her sleep, then let out a blissful sigh. A smile tugged at her lips.
Chuck gently rolled away from her trying not to jostle her and swung his long legs over the side of the bed. His stomach gave a low growl. Looking over at Sarah, he decided to let her have more sleep. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. After Chuck dressed, he opened the cabin door and stepped outside. Stretching, he observed nature’s cathedral Half Dome bathed in early morning light in the distance. The cool mountain air filled his lungs.
The weather was slightly breezy, but comfortable, another perfect day for hiking. His stomach growled again. But first breakfast.
He walked down the rows of cabins greeted by other campers with a curt nod of their head or said “Morning” to him as he passed by. This is what he remembered about camping, everyone being friendly and no one in a hurry. Life more simple.
Yes, this camping trip had been a great idea. He and Sarah needed this time together to rediscover their newly forged relationship. They had been separated much of the time since Orion’s death; however, he had promises to keep to both his dad and sister. Spending countless hours searching files in the hidden bunker underneath his family house looking for clues as to the whereabouts of his mother. But this weekend would be an espionage free weekend. No dodging bullets or fighting bad guys.
He walked down the gravel path until he reached the Curry Village Pavilion. Chuck opened the main entrance door and headed toward the dining hall. The strong smell of bacon assaulted his senses. After paying the cashier, he grabbed a tray, silverware, and dinner plate and walked around the buffet bar filling his plate with scrambled eggs, hash browns, sausage, bacon, and pancakes. Next, he stopped at the drink station and poured himself a glass of orange juice and milk. Then grabbing a mug and using the hot chocolate dispenser, he dispensed himself a cup of hot cocoa.
Taking his tray of food, he walked into the main seating area. The décor of the dining hall was similar to a rustic mountain lodge with dark paneled walls, oak table and straight back chairs, and a stone fireplace. Not exactly five-star, but cozy.
Most of the tables were occupied and the place buzzed with low conversation. Glancing around the room Chuck noticed Mrs. Stetson sitting alone reading a paperback novel and eating her breakfast. She was in the far corner of the room, by the window, closest to the door—a perfect vantage point to keep an eye on the whole room. ‘Once a spy, always a spy,’ he thought. Walking over to her table, he placed his tray down. “This seat taken?”
She glanced up from her book and grinned. “Agent Bartowski.”
“No, Ma’am, Chuck, just plain old Chuck.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“Okay, Chuck, won’t you sit down. I would love some company.” She gestured toward an empty chair.
He sat down at the table across from her. “Where’s Mr. Stetson this morning?” Chuck asked, after scanning the room searching for him.
“Please, it's Lee and Amanda.” She marked her book and placed it down on the table. “Mr. ‘I’ll have nothing more than a cup of coffee’ is still in bed. What about Sarah?”
“She’s not much of a breakfast eater either.”
“It’s the most important meal of the day,” they chorused together, then laughed.
Chuck glanced at the title of the book, reading it upside down. “A spy novel, Mrs. . . um, Amanda?” An eyebrow arched in curiosity.
“Old habit." She gave a tiny shrug.
“I know, but don’t you find them a bit over-exaggerating?”
“Not like the real world at all.” She smiled, and then took a bite of her waffle. After placing her fork on the side of her plate, she took a sip of milk, and continued. “You have kind eyes, really pretty eyes, trustworthy. You remind me of my husband, yet, you can’t be much older than our middle son.”
“How many children do you have?” Chuck asked, sprinkling salt and pepper onto his eggs and hash browns.
“We have two boys, one daughter, and three grandchildren, with a fourth on the way.”
He let out a slow admiring whistle. "Quite the crew there. How long have you been married?”
“Twenty-three years.”
“Is the rest of your family in the spy business?” Chuck inquired, pouring syrup onto his pancakes. Then using his fork, he cut into the buttermilk goodness, took a bite, chewed briefly, and then washed it down with orange juice.
“Oh, gosh, no. Phillip's a lawyer, like his father.” Chuck looked at her questionably, before Amanda explained, “The boys are from my first marriage. My son Jamie is a freelance photographer, and Lee and I have a daughter, Emily. She's attending her second year at Stanford.”
“My alma mater.” He stated, before taking a slip of hot chocolate. The creamy cocoa slid down his throat and he shivered with pleasure. He put the cup down, fidgeted with his silverware, and then leaned forward. “May I ask you a personal question?” She nodded her head, encouraging him to continue. "How do you find balance?”
“Oh, you mean between being a mother, wife and spy?” She supplied the answer. “It hasn’t been easy, but anything special is worth the risk.” Amanda took a bite of mixed fruit cocktail and eyed him. A brilliant smile filled her face, when she noticed him gazing at her wedding band. “Thinking about marriage, aren’t you? And confused about the cardinal rule of spying.”
He ran a fingertip along the rim of the glass tumbler. “We haven’t been together—I mean ‘really’ together very long, but we have been building the foundation for a number of years. And then yes, the whole cardinal rule thing about spies not falling in love. I love Sarah and I know she loves me. And the CIA knows we are a couple and does not seem to have a problem with us being together, but I’m not sure how they would react to us as a married couple.”
Amanda shook her head slightly and chuckled. “You ramble almost as much as I do.” She put her fork down and pushed away her plate, then leaned forward placing her hands on the table. “Let me give you some great advice I heard from my former section chief. Mr. Melrose told us, "We all look for something, and when we find it, we should hang on with everything we've got." Hang on, Chuck, with everything you've got."
Chuck dabbed the corner of his mouth with his napkin, then leaned back on his chair, mulling over what she had told him.
A moment later, Lee arrived. Leaning over, he kissed his wife on the cheek. “Morning, Sweetheart.” Then eyeing Chuck, he gruffly asked, “Chuck, right?”
“Yes, Sir. Hope you don’t mind me joining your wife for breakfast.”
Lee made a deep guttural sound.
“There’s my morning grizzly bear.” She cupped her husband’s cheeks and gave him a quick peck. “There's a full-service buffet here,” Amanda told him.
“No, I’ll just grab myself a cup of coffee and maybe a doughnut from the coffee shop.”
Chuck and Amanda exchanged glances.
Lee cocked his eyebrow in a silent question and shrugged. “Stay here, I’ll be right back,” he told Amanda. He then left the room headed toward the Pavilion.
“Does he tell you to stay in the car, too?” Chuck laughed, watching Lee leave.
Amanda joined in, laughing so hard tears streamed down her cheeks. Then she wiped her eyes. “It’s never safe in the car.”
"No, it's not," Chuck returned. They both laughed some more.
“It was great visiting with you, Amanda, but I should be getting back to. . .” Chuck began to say, when he saw a tall, athletic looking man with leathery skin, a tough wiry beard, and jet-black hair leave the dining hall through the double doors after throwing a plastic water bottle with a picture of Yosemite Falls on the label into the green recycling bin. Chuck’s eyes flickered and images of this man and his illegal activities flashed before him. "No," he muttered under his breath. "Not now!"
“Are you alright?” Amanda asked, concerned.
Chuck blinked rapidly twice trying to get his bearings and stared at Amanda.
"Did you just flash?"
“No, no, no this can’t be happening. Not here. I’m no longer a spy!” Chuck stood up and walked toward the exit.
Amanda chased after him, trying to keep pace with his long legs. “What is it, Chuck?”
“Bad guy. Kevin McGregor. Domestic terrorist. Member of the Global Action Alliance.” He took a deep breath. “Why can’t I enjoy a vacation without interruptions?”
Amanda smiled knowingly at him.
Chuck took her hand and they ducked behind a brown dumpster. Amanda raised her head first, followed by Chuck. “Do you see him?” she asked.
He shook his head. They both stood up straight and scanned the area, but the man was long gone.
Meanwhile, back inside the dining hall, Lee returned to the table with a cup of coffee and a glazed apple danish and noticed Amanda was not where he had left her. He glanced around the room looking for his missing wife. “Now why can’t she ever do what she is told?”
*****
After he received a fax from the hotel clerk, Lee tentatively took a step into the Mountain Room Lounge where Amanda, Chuck, and Sarah sat around the table, drinking coffee. It was too early in the morning for the lounge to be open, so they were the only people in the room. He walked across the hardwood floor toward them.
“Kevin McGregor—sabotage, attempted arson, arson, and two conspiracy charges.” He placed the copy of the rap sheet down on the table. “He copped a plea and spent sixty months in federal prison. Was released June 2007, since then he has been a model citizen.”
“But what is he doing here in Yosemite?” Amanda asked him.
Lee shrugged his shoulders, appearing indifferent. “Maybe he’s on vacation like the rest of us. Maybe he likes nature, hiking, waterfalls, wildflowers—”
“Lee,” Amanda hissed through gritted teeth.
“What Amanda? I did what you asked. I checked McGregor out. He has no wants, no warrants. He served his time. Sorry, there’s nothing we can do.”
Amanda narrowed her eyes and stared incredulously at him.
He threw up his arms and rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Okay. Okay.” Lee turned his attention to Sarah. “Has it been wrong before?”
“What the Intersect? Well, I guess so, but only because he didn’t have the full story.”
Lee removed his reading glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s just great. How are we supposed to know when he’s got all the information it needs? Does he beep?”
The room grew silent when all three agents turned their heads to look at Lee shocked by his assertion.
“Of course not,” Sarah stammered. “But he has been under a lot of stress since his father died.”
Lee threw a skeptical look in Chuck's direction. “Maybe it has a virus or a glitch.”
“There was that time with Lou,” Sarah continued.
“He’s not malfunctioning—he flashed on the facts the NSA and CIA put in their database on McGregor,” Amanda piped up.
“And then there was the time he blew up Casey’s Crown Vic.”
“Hello. I’m in the room.” Chuck’s back stiffened and he folded his arms across his chest. “Sarah, whose side are you on anyway?”
“I’m not on anyone’s side, Chuck. I’m sorry, but the man has rights and he’s doing nothing wrong by being here and, unless you flash on something specific, we have to leave him alone. This is not our mission.”
“By the way, I never flashed on Lou, I only assumed she—“ Chuck stopped mid-sentence as to not incriminate himself.
Sarah chewed on her lower lip. “Maybe you are assuming now?”
Rapidly pushing his chair back, Chuck rose from the table and breezed out of the lounge. Sarah excused herself and quickly left after him.
Amanda glared at her husband.
“What?” Lee asked, perplexed.
“That was rude.”
“Okay, I’m confused. What did I do wrong?” Lee thrust his hands deep into his pockets and rocked back on his heels.
“You didn’t even give him a chance.”
“I’ve looked into Bartowski’s file. He’s not a real spy, he’s only had six months of training.”
“And years of field experience working with one of the top agents in the country. Sound familiar?”
“Why do you always have to argue with me?”
“I’m not arguing with you—I’m just pointing out that you are wrong and I am right.”
“A-man-da.” Lee rubbed the back of his neck and blew out a breath. “Fine, you’ve spent more time with that box then I have.”
Her eyes narrowed and she raised her voice. “Chuck is not a ‘box.’ He’s a human being.”
“Yes, with a computer in his head. Intelligence gathering used to be about getting dirty in the field—all night stakeouts, thermos filled with two-day old coffee, talking to sources and snitches in dives and dumps, Amanda. Now, it’s all about computers.”
“And you say I’m resistant to change,” she threw the statement back at him.
“Plus, he quit the CIA—I guess he couldn’t hack it.”
“Ohhhh, Lee Stetson, sometimes you can be so pigheaded.” She turned away and crossed her arms in front of her, too angry to speak to him.
*****
A man stood in front of the mirror in the empty restroom admiring the results. The Curry Village shower house had been locked down and closed since the rockslide of 2008. He ran his hand across his clean-shaven face. Smooth. Then he raked his hand through his hair. He had blended it gray and now had a salt and pepper look—'like the Hollywood actors,' he thought, smiling at himself.
He picked up the do-it-yourself hair color box, applicator bottle, color bottle, tube of deep conditioning treatment, instructions and rubber gloves and threw them into the garbage can. Then he placed scissors, a straight razor and can of shaving cream into a large zippered bag and put them into his backpack. Over a white cotton t-shirt, he shrugged on a button-down beige shirt, and after buttoning the shirt, he tucked it into his green trousers. He then attached a gold-plated name tag over his left breast pocket. Finally, he adjusted the National Park Service “Smokey Bear” Ranger hat over his head, and then swung his backpack over his shoulder. Glancing in the mirror once more, he nodded once more, liking what he saw. He knew he would blend right in with the crowds.
*****
Chuck walked down the paved bike path near Yosemite Village. He was deep in thought, when he suddenly heard a sound he couldn’t immediately identify. “Psst.” Chuck turned to locate the noise.
“Psst.” There it was again.
“Psst.” Chuck finally tracked down the source of the sound and saw Amanda Stetson standing behind a large alder tree. She gestured for him and he strolled over and stood by her side. “Where’s Sarah?”
“I told Sarah I was taking a walk to clear my head, so I sent her to the Ansel Adams Gallery and told her to purchase a print. Hopefully, that will keep her occupied. Although, I’m not sure where we’ll have the room on the walls of our apartment to hang a print once we get back to Echo Park. I might have to take down my Tron poster,” Chuck explained as they both walked down the path away from the village square. The sound of gravel crunched under their footsteps.
Amanda gave him a sideways glance and arched an eyebrow. “You have a Tron poster?”
He graced her a lopsided grin. “Yes, my dad gave it to me when I was twelve.”
Amanda burst out laughing.
“I know nerdy, right?”
“No, not at all. You couldn’t have been much more than a toddler when the film was originally released. I like the movie, but then again I always thought Tron looked like Lee.”
“Really? I don’t see the resemblance.”
“Not so much now, but when I first met Lee, I thought the resemblance was uncanny.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” Chuck took in a shuddering breath and averted his eyes, studying the walkway beneath his high-top Converse tennis shoes. “I’m sorry about the argument you had with your husband.”
“It’s okay, even couples who love each other fight. It happens—and no man can drive me crazy as Lee Stetson can.”
A frown crossed his face. “Mr. Stetson doesn’t trust me.”
“No, Lee just doesn’t know you, and what he doesn’t trust is computers. Heck, he still rails against email. And well, you do have a computer in your head.”
“Where is he?”
“He went back to the cabin to lie down. I told him I was going to the gift shop to buy souvenirs for the grandkids.”
They stopped just outside the entrance of the Visitor Center. Chuck opened the door for Amanda. She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. Wandering through the visitor center, they pretended to admire the exhibits, while they chatted.
“Mom, over here is a miniature model of the valley. Look at all the detail,” Chuck said, leading Amanda over to the map in the center of the room.
“Yes, Son,” she responded, picking up on his cue. Amanda studied the layout of the park for several minutes before inquiring, “I have to ask. . . Mom?”
Chuck shrugged in reply. “You kind of remind me of my mom.” He paused for a moment. “You don’t mind?”
“No, I think it's sweet,” she assured him. “Are you and your mother close?”
“She left my sister and me when I was nine.”
"Oh, how awful." She watched as the muscle in Chuck’s jaw pulsated. “However, it appears your father did a good job raising you. Look how you turned out. You’re hardworking, caring, honest. Any man would be proud to call you son.”
Chuck fidgeted with his watch, not wanting to make eye contact with her. “He was proud. . . my dad, he was killed a few weeks ago.”
“I’m sorry.” Hesitantly, she reached out, lightly touching his shoulder, and gave him a sympatric squeeze. “I was just trying to make small talk. I didn’t mean to get personal.”
Chuck merely nodded. Then he led Amanda to another exhibit. He looked at the display, but not really seeing, his eyes expressionless. “It’s not your fault. It was mine. My dad was murdered in cold blood right in front of me and there was nothing I could do. I might as well have pulled the trigger myself,” Chuck told her in a hushed tone. Louder he said, “Did you know Yosemite National Park was sculpted by glaciers and uplift and erosion?”
“Yes, Son.” She gave him an intent look, and her lips pursed with concentration. “Speaking of that noggin of yours, any more information?”
Chuck shook his head. They then stepped outside to stroll around the reconstructed Indian Village attracted to the museum. “I have a bad feeling about this—call it a gut instinct.”
“You are not alone. I have a feeling about this man, too. We need to find him and see what he is up to.” They walked past the Ceremonial Roundhouse. “But where to start? Maybe the campground office has his registration, maybe you could hack into their computer, but that would only help if he was staying here on the valley floor at Curry, Housekeeping, or one of the campgrounds.”
“Yes, and then there is Yosemite Lodge, the Wawona Hotel, and the Ahwahnee, and several campgrounds and hotels outside the park.”
“On the other hand, he might be here for a day trip.”
“Maybe your husband’s right and he’s just here on vacation.”
“I’m not ready to call it quits, are you?” Trying a different approach, she asked, “Tell me about your flash.”
“Huh?”
“What did you see when you flashed on Kevin McGregor?”
Chuck thought carefully. He closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift back. Blurred images suddenly snapped into focus. “I saw a picture of Kevin McGregor, probably a DMV photo, FBI files, rap sheet, images of the WTO riot in Seattle, him throwing glass bottles at police in riot gear, then flames burning down a multimillion-dollar housing development under construction, and his mug shot and identification number.”
“Not much to go on. Too bad we don’t have a computer to do a little investigative research.”
Chuck snapped his fingers. “Maybe we do.” He took his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed his best friend’s number.
“Chuck, “ Morgan answered. “How are things in Yo-Se-mite?”
A confused Chuck heard shuffling noises in the background. “Morgan?” Instead of hearing his friend, he heard a second deeper voice come onto the line. “You called to say you two lovebirds are coming home, right?”
“Actually Casey, Sarah and I were thinking of asking General Beckman for a couple more days off so we could do some backpacking in the Sierra’s.”
“You wouldn’t dare! Don’t leave me alone another day with the moron. Get me out of this training hellhole.”
“Now whose idea was it for Morgan to join the team?” He heard Casey give a not-amused grunt. “I promise to have Sarah back to Castle tomorrow. But please put Morgan back on the phone.”
Casey grunted again and then he heard Morgan’s voice come back on the line. “Sorry, Buddy. Casey’s still mad I singed his eyebrows. Who knew butane could be so flammable?”
“Right, Buddy.” The muscles in his face twitched slightly. “Morgan, I need you to tap into the NSA computer and tell me what information they have on. . .”
He looked at Amanda, who mouthed, “Global Action Alliance.”
“Global Action Alliance,” he repeated, putting the handset on speakerphone.
Back at the secret CIA compound, underneath the Buy More computer and electronics store, Morgan hit a few keys on the keyboard. The information appeared on the large screen above him. Morgan read, “Global Action Alliance is a radical environmental group who uses sabotage, monkey-wrenching and the destruction of private party to stop, as they say, the destruction of the environment. They are classified as a domestic terrorist threat by the FBI. The group is responsible for burning down a woodchip mill in Washington state, an SUV dealership in California, as well as, a yacht marina in the Bay Area.”
“Damn! Not much to go on.” Chuck immediately stopped. “Dam?” He looked over at Amanda and could see silent confirmation that she was thinking the same thing he was. "Could it be that easy?”
"Could what be so easy?" he heard Morgan over the speakerphone.
“Wasn’t a park ranger reported missing Friday morning?” Amanda asked, ignoring Morgan's question.
“Yes, I remember hearing it on the radio that the Big Oak Flat entrance was closed because of police activity.”
“The Big Oak Flat entrance leads to. . . O'Shaughnessy Dam.”
With a few more keystrokes Morgan searched the database for the information he knew Chuck would ask him. “The O'Shaughnessy Dam holds back the Tuolumne River forming the Hetch Hetchy Reservoir. It is owned by the City and County of San Francisco. The primary purpose is to supply drinking water to the San Francisco Bay Area. The dam provides water to 2.4 million people in the city of San Francisco, San Mateo and Alameda Counties and the San Joaquin Valley. In the summer it provides one percent of California's electrical power.”
“Still not much to go on,” Amanda stated simply.
“Who’s there with you, Chuck? That does not sound like Sarah. You aren’t two-timing Sarah, are you?” Morgan inquired.
Chuck glanced at Amanda and laughed nervously. Amanda’s eyebrows shot up, and her lips twitched into a faint smile.
“Bye, Morgan.” Chuck pushed the end call button to close the conversation, then he turned to Amanda, and shook his head. “How did a sweet lady like yourself get involved in the spy business?”
Amanda laughed out loud. “Long story.” She took a deep breath, before continuing, “Well, it all started one morning when took a friend of mine to the train station and this man dressed in a waiter’s uniform handed me a package and told me, “Get on the train and give this to the man in the red hat,” and so I. . .did.”
“Wow! You can’t do things like that today!”
“No. The times they have most definitely changed.”
“And you've never regretted your decision?" Chuck marveled.
“To take the package? Not for a single moment."
“Why did you take the package?”
“It was something about his eyes. I gazed up at him and it was almost as if I had known him forever.” She shook her head bemused. “Fate’s a funny thing. Who would ever have thought a divorced mother of two and a spy would fall in love and get married?”
“Almost as preposterous as a nerd at the Buy More falling in love with a super spy.”
She laughed again. “Tell me Chuck, how did a sweet young man like yourself get involved in the spy business?”
“Long story, but it all started a few years back when I got an email from an old college buddy. . . “
After Chuck had finished his tale, Amanda asked, “And your family knows you are a spy—rather was a spy.”
Chuck nodded his head in acknowledgment. “Can you keep a secret?” Amanda gave him a sideways glance and Chuck chortled. “Yeah, I think you can. I was raised mostly by my older sister and I made a promise to Ellie I would quit the spy business, since the two of us is all we have left. My sister witnessed the death of our father, and took his loss very hard. However, I have been keeping a secret and I hate lying to her.”
“Are you spying again?”
“No, but I also made a promise to our father, before he died, that I would find our mother and bring her home.”
“It’s not easy to lie to the ones we love. Whatever you do I hope you’re not keeping secrets from Sarah.”
Chuck did not answer.
Amanda shook her head. “Chuck.” She then heaved a heavy sigh. “Let me tell you a story about a mystery marriage. . . “
Several moments later.
“And you kept your relationship secret from your mother and the boys and the Agency?”
Amanda simply nodded.
“How did you finally come clean?”
“Emily." Her lips twitched upward. "Wasn’t easy keeping a secret marriage, but it was even harder keeping a secret pregnancy.”
Chuck laughed. “Yes, I guess it would be.”
“Well, we better go find Lee and tell him what we know. I know it’s all circumstantial, but we’ll see what Lee wants to do with the information. You go find Sarah and meet us at our place, cabin number ten.”
*****
Amanda breezed into the cabin she and her husband were staying at for the weekend. She saw Lee sitting at a desk writing a letter. Then putting the pen down, he looked up at her.
“Lee, Chuck and I think we figured out what McGregor is doing here in Yosemite. Remember the missing park ranger? Well, he went missing from the entrance near O’Shaughnessy Dam.”
“Amanda.” He stood up and walked over to her, putting his hands on her shoulders.
“No listen. You always told me to stick with what you know and this is what I know.” She emphasized by poking him in the chest with her finger.
“A-man-da!”
“What?”
“I already went to the camp office and made a few phone calls.”
“You did?”
“You bet I did?” He rocked back onto his heels. “I put an APB out on McGregor about an hour ago—wanted for questioning only at the moment." A frown crossed his face. "What is this about a dam?”
“We believe McGregor has plans to blow up the dam. His terrorist group has been a strong advocate for the removal of the dam, and we think he is here this weekend to carry out the plan.”
“That’s good work.”
“Well, I have a very logical mind.”
“Yes, you do.” He nodded his head in agreement.
“Lee, why did you call the authorities when you didn’t trust Chuck or me?”
He placed his hands at her waist and gazed into her eyes. “Because someone once upon a time trusted me and was willing to take a chance and believed in me when no one else would.”
“Awww.” She gave him a magnetic grin.
He pulled her in closer to him and lowered his mouth to hers when they heard someone knocking at the door.
They both smiled at each other. “Some things never change,” Lee said, rolling his eyes.
*****
The afternoon blew in hot and dry, typical for summer within the Hetch Hetchy Valley. The tendrils of Wapama Falls cascaded into the reservoir behind O'Shaughnessy Dam, while vibrant splashes of wildflowers put on a show. Dark purple and white lupine, sierra gooseberry, and purple owl’s clover blossoms spread out before him.
Lee Stetson leaned over the concrete railing watching the discharge from the dam face. He whispered, “Look sharp, people,” into his hidden microphone and then adjusted his earpiece. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced over the day use parking area and the surveillance van, which resembled an older motor home. His wife was inside observing people coming and going. His attention then turned to Chuck and Sarah who walked across the dam bridge deck span, pretending to take pictures of the scenery around them.
Lee drew a slow breath and let it out. “I hope the kid is right. We’re on an all-out multiple agency scramble.”
A voice cracked back and he heard Amanda tell him, “He’s right, Lee. I know he’s right.”
“Just so you know if he’s wrong, you know whose ass is going to be in a sling?”
“Leeeee.” She drew out his name as though it had two syllables.
“Okay. Okay.” Lee continued to observe sightseers, pedestrians, and motor traffic in and around the dam’s perimeter. A couple agents in a pick-up truck, dressed in maintenance uniforms, appeared to be inspecting the structure. He then spied a park ranger dressed in National Park Service uniform and wearing dark sunglasses carrying a Swiss Army-brand backpack over his shoulder. The man was about the right height and build, but no beard and had gray hair. He walked closer to Lee and tipped his Ranger hat as he passed.
“Amanda, what was the makeup and build of the missing park ranger?” Lee whispered into the microphone after the man passed by.
“Caucasian male, six foot-three inches, 200 pounds.”
“The same size as McGregor. I think this may be our man.” Lee tipped his head, silently ordering Chuck and Sarah to follow.
The man looked back over his shoulder and picked up his pace. Lee then noticed he pulled something from his bag. It looked like a detonator.
“Freeze, Federal Agents,” Lee commanded, after he pulled his gun from his holster and pointed it at the man.
McGregor spun around quickly grabbing Chuck. He pointed a gun at Chuck's temple, while holding a detonator in his other hand. “This was not how this was supposed to go down. No one was supposed to get hurt!” He cried out, nervously shaking.
Lee saw Sarah had trained her weapon on McGregor too. He then began edging his way closer to them. “We can talk about it, but first I need you to release the hostage and put the detonator down.”
“All I wanted was a little explosion, enough to damage the dam but not completely destroy it, just enough damage so it would have to be removed. Force the hands of the politicians to finally restore the Hetch Hetchy Valley.”
“The State of California is already looking into the removal of the dam, but these things take time.” Lee stepped closer. He could see beads of sweat forming on the man’s forehead.
“No!! Too often all that happens is just another study. I’m tired of their damn studies. I’m sorry, but I see no other way out of this.” With trembling hands, he cocked the gun he held in his right hand.
Chuck cleared his mind, and instantly random pictures, fighting, and martial arts images flashed before his eyes. He winked at Sarah and with a quick backwards kick, he knocked McGregor off balance. McGregor grabbed for Chuck and they both fell to the cement decking. Sarah leaped into action, grabbing the detonator before it hit the ground.
Lee watched the two men tussle on the ground and held his weapon steady waiting for a clear shot. Agents were now on both ends of the bridge running toward the commotion.
Scrambling, Chuck and McGregor got back up on their feet and the punches flew. Chuck found an opening and hit McGregor in the gut with a left hook and then an upper right to the jaw. McGregor hit Chuck in the nose and his nose began to bleed. He then tried to body slam Chuck, but Chuck sidestepped him and McGregor fell over the edge of the dam. He held on to the lip of the dam by his fingertips, screaming. Chuck and Lee helped him back up onto the bridge deck. The backpack with the improvised explosive device tumbled over the dam, and was soon carried away by the raging current of the Tuolumne River.
Lee removed handcuffs from his back pocket and cuffed McGregor. He shoved McGregor toward another agent. “Read this man his Miranda rights.”
He then took in the sight around him. Two FBI agents lead McGregor toward a waiting patrol car, while other agents congratulated one another. A Navy helicopter flew over the dam and Lee knew a dive team would be searching the river for the backpack full of explosives, but doubt it would even be found. He looked around for his wife in the chaotic scene, and as if reading his thoughts, he sensed her gaze. Turning their eyes met. He took a tentative step toward her, but she ran up to him and embraced him.
Stepping back, she took his hand then motioned for him to come with her. Hand in hand, they walked across the bridge. After a few steps, Lee released her hand and put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to him as they strolled. “I owe you an apology.”
“No, you owe Chuck an apology.” She stopped and gazed up at him.
He put his hands on her shoulders. “I’ll apologize to him, but first I need to request forgiveness—I was an idiot.” Amanda did not say anything. “I don’t hear you disagreeing with me.”
“Lee, what do you want me to say? Fine, you may not have trusted Chuck, but you should have trusted me. I thought you had learned long ago not to doubt my instincts, so why now?”
He held up his hands in mock surrender. "I should have known that your instincts about Chuck were right. I’m sorry for doubting you.”
She then poked a finger in his chest and continued, “I’m your partner and your wife.”
“You’re right—you’re always right.” He winked and kissed her on the cheek. “Something else I can add to the list of things I love about you.” He gave her a dimpled grin and she returned his smile. Lee then gestured over to where Chuck and Sarah stood next to the fountain, holding hands, smiling, their faces mere inches from each other. “Do you think they’re gonna to be okay?”
Amanda nodded her head. “I have a feeling everyone’s going to live happily ever after.”
Lee smiled recognizing the same line she had told him so many years ago. “You always were much better at reading people than I ever was.”
They walked over to Chuck and Sarah. Lee extended his hand to Chuck. “Bartowski, it was a pleasure working with you. I could use a man like you on the A-TAC team if you ever decide to come back to the CIA.”
Chuck returned the handshake. “I’ll think about it—although my family is in Burbank, and that is where I think I would like to stay at the moment,” he said looking at Sarah. “But thank you, Sir.”
“It’s Lee. Sir makes me think of the Colonel.” Lee made a sour face.
“Oh, you know Casey?”
*****
Tag
Chuck swirled the Merlot around in the crystal wine goblet. The burgundy liquid sloshed back and forth in the glass. He took a sip taking in the atmosphere. Lee and Amanda had invited him and Sarah to dinner for their final evening in Yosemite and the Ahwahnee Dining Room was everything Chuck had read about and more. The Native American theme was incorporated in the décor and furnishings through unique and beautiful architecture. Immense logs of stripped and polished sugar pine supported ceiling wrought iron candelabras suspended from the timbers with high beamed ceilings that complemented the room’s granite pillars, and floor-to-ceiling windows. The perfect ambiance for a memorable dining experience. Both Lee and himself sported suit jackets and ties, while the ladies were beautiful in their elegant evening gowns. Amanda wore a white chiffon with spaghetti straps and Sarah was in a strapless red satin dress.
“Thank you so much for the lovely meal, Lee and Amanda,” Sarah gushed. “The food was absolutely divine. I especially loved the Chocolate Espresso Torte with raspberry sauce.”
“So much better than the Weinerlicious,” Chuck snickered and shared an amused, private smile with Sarah.
Lee and Amanda mutually glanced at each other and shrugged.
“Oh, I forgot to add. . . I’m happy to report that Roberts, the missing National Park Ranger, was found safe in a hunting cabin not far from Big Oak Flat. Bound and gagged. Hungry, but alive,” Lee told the group.
“Great news,” Chuck replied. He took another sip of his wine, enjoying the silky smoothness as it slid down his throat.
“Next time you are in Washington, be sure to visit us in Arlington. We would love the company and we have plenty of room,” Amanda told Chuck and Sarah. Lee nodded his head in confirmation.
“Ditto, and if you’re ever in Burbank, look us up,” Sarah added.
“We’ll do, although I don’t see any trips to Burbank any time soon, not exactly the hot spot for international intrigue," Lee said, reaching for the wine bottle and filling the glass halfway before setting the bottle back on the table. “Nothing bad ever happens in the suburbs.”
“You’d be surprised,” Chuck mumbled under his breath, before he took a quick sip of wine. “A toast.” He raised his glass to his friends.
Everyone else raised their own glass. “A toast.”
“To espionage free weekends.”
They clicked their glasses in unspoken agreement.
He was tired. Tired of the political posturing and bickering. Tired of the broken promises and lies. Tired of the backroom deals and lobbying. Moreover, he was tired of defending his representatives; especially those who were supposed to hold the same beliefs and ideology as him.
Carrying water bottles and newspapers into the kitchen, he put them in their respective recycling bins. Next, he walked over to the double basin sink and stuck his hand in the cold water, removing the glass jars he had soaking. Peeling off the labels, he put them in the glass recycling bin. He then stared out the front window over his sunbaked lawn.
How could his congresswoman say those things? Didn’t she know who she represented? “Why destroy a dam that produces electricity for hundreds of thousands, just for a few more campsites,” she had said.
He regretfully shook his head.
No, it would be up to him to right the wrong. To return things back to the way the Creator had intended, before man had raped the land.
*****
Walking across the weathered decking, Chuck Bartowski and Sarah Walker both carried double-scooped ice cream cones, and then sat down at one of the many hexagon tables with forest green umbrellas that filled the outdoor eating arena. After sitting down on the bench, Sarah swung her legs over Chuck’s lap. The two watched the scene around them. People scurried about on the wooden patio eating and talking, children ran down the gravel walking paths laughing and playing, while blue jays and California gray squirrels were on constant lookout for table scraps.
The two ate their ice cream in relative silence. Chuck watched Sarah lick the hand-dipped ice cream in a slow circle, running the tip of her tongue between ice cream and the waffle cone. The ice cream soon began to melt and drip in the hot summer sun.
Chuck noticed a bit of chocolate on Sarah’s cheek right by her lips.
"You've got a little ice cream. . . " Chuck told her.
Sarah tried to reach the smudge with her tongue. “There?”
Chuck shook his head while watching Sarah grab a napkin. He caught her hand before it reached its destination. “Here, let me.” Chuck leaned in and kissed her gingerly on the lips. He then pulled back and smiled at her.
“Did you get it?” Her eyes twinkled at him in amusement.
“I’m working on it.” He lowered his mouth to hers again and kissed her deeply.
Breaking apart, Sarah sighed and rested her head on his shoulder.
“So, tell me Ms. Walker, have you ever been to Yosemite?”
“Are you kidding? My dad wasn’t into the whole camping thing when I was growing up.” Lifting her head, she swatted at a mosquito that landed on her leg. “What about you, Mr. Bartowski?”
“A few times my folks brought Ellie and me up here— that was before my mother. . . well, you know—” his voice trailed off, and he took a deep, shuddering breath.
Seeing the anguish in his face, Sarah grabbed his hand and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “I understand.”
Several minutes later, they had both finished their ice cream. Sarah looked around her taking in the spectacular scenery. Jagged mountain peaks loomed overhead, and massive granite cliffs framed the valley from every direction. The sky was laced with white feathery clouds. "It's beautiful, isn't it?”
“It sure is,” he said, gazing upon her.
He watched blush crept up her cheeks, and she ducked her head, but then quickly recovered. Looking up, her clear, blue eyes drank in the sight of him. “Thanks for bringing me to Yosemite. Are you sure you don’t want to climb El Capitan later?”
“No, I’ll leave the rock climbing to Captain Awesome. Feet firmly planted on the ground is just fine by me.”
In the background, on the other end of the patio, Chuck spotted a man reading a book. He immediately recognized the familiar face. “Speaking of Captain Awesome. What is Dr. Woodcomb doing here?”
“Devon’s here?” Sarah asked, trying to turn around.
“No, Awesome’s dad. I’m going over there to say hello.” He untangled himself from Sarah and stood up, chucked the ice cream cone jacket in the garbage can, before he walked over to the other table.
“Dr. Woodcomb. Chuck, Ellie’s brother. Fancy meeting you here. Visiting from Connecticut? Vacation or convention? By the way, where’s Honey?” The words came out in a rush, tumbling one over another.
“Huh?” The man looked up, his hand over his eyes squinting in the sun to see who was talking to him. “Sorry, Sport, but I think you have me confused with someone else.” He stood up and began to turn away.
“Wow! Now! You’re the spitting image of my sister’s father-in-law.”
The man looked back at Chuck, sizing him up. “I can’t say I know you or your sister. The name is Stetson, Lee Stetson.” He held out his hand in greeting.
Suddenly Chuck flashed and the familiar sensation captivated his senses. Images and information passed before his eyes. “Lee Stetson, codename Scarecrow. . . “
“How could you possibly—“
“. . . Recruited by Harry V. Thornton in 1978, worked for an American underground government group known as the Agency, cover IFF, also known as International Federal Film, until it merged with the CIA after the Cold War, Deputy Director . . .”
Lee put his hand on the handle of his Glock 9mm. “Who the hell are you kid, and how do you know those things about me?”
Chuck heard a gun cock and then his girlfriend's firm voice warn, “I wouldn’t if I were you.”
“Whoa there, Sarah!” Chuck waved frantically.
“And I suggest you put your weapon down,” a second feminine voice told Sarah. Chuck saw her pressing a gun into Sarah's side.
“Still watching my back after all the years, Amanda," Lee said, turning around to disarm Sarah.
Chuck flashed again. “Amanda King Stetson. Attended University of Virginia, majored in American Literature, housewife, mother of three, one-half of The Agency’s best team, recruited in 1983, several Presidential commendations and awards, married her partner in 1987. . .”
“Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” Lee demanded.
Amanda slowly lowered her gun, her eyes wide with surprise. “Oh my gosh! Lee, he’s an Intersect.”
Lee looked at her confused.
“You read up on it—the human intersect project,” Amanda explained.
Realization dawned the older agent's features. “You’re the one with the computer in your head,” he said to Chuck. “And you must be his handler?” Lee asked, handing back Sarah's sidearm.
Finally, Chuck spoke up, “Sarah, may I present Lee and Amanda Stetson. Lee is Deputy Director of A-TAC and Amanda is on his team.”
“A-TAC?” Sarah questioned.
“Anti-Domestic Terrorism Action Coalition,” Lee informed her. “And you are?”
“Chuck Bartowski, Sir, and this is Agent Sarah Walker, CIA.” Chuck put his arm around Sarah pulling her close.
After the introductions were over, Chuck asked, “What brings you to Yosemite? Not terrorism, I hope, because Sarah and I plan a terrorism free weekend.” He laughed, gesturing widely with his free hand, and then glanced around nervously.
“Post 9-11 you can never be too careful. But no, we came out to visit our daughter who is going to college out here in California, and since we had never seen Yosemite, we thought we would spend a few days here,” Lee explained, putting his arm around Amanda.
“This is Sarah’s first time, too.”
“Are you staying the whole weekend and where are you lodging?” Amanda asked them.
“Curry Village,” Chuck answered.
“That’s where Lee and I are staying. I take it that you’ve been here before, Chuck.” Amanda held up the Yosemite National Park Tour Guide Book. “We have plans to go horseback riding and then we’ll be seeing a show at the Yosemite Theater tomorrow night. What do you recommend?”
“Nothing beats the views from Glacier Point. Watching the sunset, seeing Yosemite’s peaks turn from granite grey to reddish-orange and the shadows gradually creep up from the valley to the top of the mountain peaks. Sarah and I plan on driving up there this evening.”
“That sounds amazing. Thanks for the suggestion. Maybe we’ll see you up there or at least sometime this weekend.” Amanda gently nudged Lee in the side.
Lee cleared his throat. “Yeah. It was nice meeting you both.”
After they exchanged handshakes and pleasantries again, the couples departed in opposite directions. Chuck turned around and spied Lee extending his hand to Amanda, entwining her fingers with his, as he heard him say, “Walk with me.”
*****
The following morning, Chuck entered the cabin and sat down on the bed next to Sarah. He caressed her face softly with his fingertips. Watching her eyes flutter open, she then smiled at him.
"How'd you sleep?"
"Just fine, once you let me fall asleep.” She sat up and gave him a quick peck. “And you?”
He laid back down on the bed, crossed his legs and placed his arms behind his head. “Great! What would you like to do today?”
She slipped out of bed and gathered her clothes from around the room. “How about I go take a shower, get dressed and then we can go for a hike. Any preference?”
“I was thinking we could ride the shuttle bus to Happy Isles Trailhead and then hike the Mist Trail, if that sounds good to you?”
“Sounds great, Sweetheart.” She placed a quick kiss on his nose.
He smiled at her. “I need to send General Beckman a fruit basket or something for letting you have this time off. Thanks for being here this weekend with me.”
“Chuck you’re still grieving for your father. I’m glad I’m here for you.”
She sat back down on the bed and he swiftly grabbed her, positioning her on top of him. She squealed and then laughed, leaning forward to capture his lips.
They were soon interrupted by the sound of Chuck’s cell phone playing Journey's "Any Way You Want It". Breaking apart, they both laughed. Chuck looked at his phone display and saw an image of Morgan grinning back at him from the backlit screen. Sarah rolled off the bed. Chuck reached out for her, but she shook her head 'no' while she got dressed. Chuck stuck out his lower lip, pouting. Then answered the phone.
“Hey, Buddy. Cell service is a bit spotty here, so you’ll have to speak up.” Chuck got off the bed and walked to the other side of the cabin, placing his finger next to his ear. “How’s training going with Casey? . . . You did what! . . . Ouch, that had to hurt. . . Don’t worry, Casey’s eyebrows will eventually grow back. . . We haven’t even been gone a day, tell him to chill out. . . Yeah, see you soon. Bye.”
“Morgan?” Sarah asked, wearing a pair of sweatpants, a yellow tank top and flip-flops, a bath towel draped over her shoulder, carrying a toiletry bag and travel size bottles of shampoo and body wash. “So how are things back at Castle?”
“Don’t ask.”
*****
A couple of hours after hiking the steep steps cut into the sheer granite face, Chuck took in the scene around him. The platform—not much more than a large outcropping of flat smooth rocks was already filled with tourists milling around and drying off in the bright early summer sunshine. Some hikers wore windbreakers, while others donned black plastic garbage bags over them, having cut out holes for their arms and head to stay dry. Mountain peaks jutted into the pale blue sky, and an array of flora and fauna loomed around them. The air held a heavy scent of pine.
The wind blowing down from the upper reaches of the Sierra Mountains scattered spray from the falls onto the trail and had soaked them both. His Dockers pants and navy-blue polo shirt were drenched, but the sun slowly heated his body and clothing that had been doused by the freezing water.
His eyes focused on Sarah seeing her standing next to the railing overlooking Vernal Falls. She was dressed in khaki shorts, a white cotton t-shirt, an unbuttoned flannel shirt, with sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and crew socks and hiking boots. Her hair she had pulled back into a ponytail. Sarah’s white soaked wet shirt hid nothing. Two very perky nipples were visible through the thin material, and her round breasts softly filled out the fabric. His eyes moved from his partner’s perfect figure and wordlessly he took two giant steps toward her wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close. She turned in his arms and they both took in the exquisiteness of the valley and the Merced River cascading over the edge for several minutes.
“Why do they call it the Mist Trail when it really should be called ‘why bother to take a shower’ trail?” Sarah laughed at her own joke.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize the falls were this full. You’re not mad you’re wet, are you?”
“I’m drying off quickly and the cold water from the falls was exhilarating. No, I’m not sorry, are you?”
“No!! Of course not.”
Smiling widely, he reached out and took her hand and led them to an empty bench. They both sat down. Chuck lay down a knapsack on the ground and unzipping the zipper he pulled out two water bottles and a granola bar for each of them. He handed them over to Sarah, who willingly accepted. He twisted off the cap and took a healthy swallow, then asked, “How are things at the CIA? How’s Casey?”
“You know I really can’t tell you what we are working on, but Casey misses you.”
“Yeah, right.” Chuck rolled his eyes. He removed the wrapper from his granola bar, and he placed the trash inside the front porch of the knapsack to be disposed of later. He then took a bite and chewed.
“How’s the job hunting going?”
“Well. . . some possible prospects, safe. . . boring jobs.” He cleared his throat, and then swallowed guiltily before replying. “I don’t deserve you, Sarah. What do I have to offer you? I’m just a temporarily unemployed Nerd Herder.”
“Chuck, you’re never just an anything.”
“You’re not mad I left the CIA?”
“Yes. . . no, I mean no. You made a promise to your sister and I respect that. But I thought we promised no shoptalk this weekend.”
Chuck nodded in agreement. “I love you.”
“I know.” She gave him a tender smile. “Hey now, race you up to the top of Nevada Falls.”
“Are you sure you’re up for the challenge Ms. Walker?”
“With you, Chuck, I'm up for anything.”
*****
Later that evening, darkness fell in Yosemite Valley. The mountain night was crisp, clear and cool. Stars shone bright against the black sky, with Half Dome submerged in moonlight reflected in the clear waters off Mirror Lake.
Chuck listened to the rhythmic galum-galum songs of croaking frogs and somewhere in the distance, he heard a coyote’s quivering cry, followed by several high-pitched yips. The night was calm and peaceful, and matched his mood perfectly. He sat on the ground, leaning against a tree, his long legs stretched out, spread open just enough for Sarah to sit between them. She reclined backwards against his chest, while he wrapped one arm tight across her abdomen. Resting his head on her shoulder, he inhaled the scent of her shampoo, mixed with, and then he chuckled, insect repellent. "It's a beautiful night, isn't it?" Chuck marveled, looking up at the night sky.
Sarah followed his gaze. “You don’t see this many stars in Burbank.”
He pointed to a cluster of bright stars. “Of course, there’s the Big Dipper which isn’t a constellation at all, but part of Ursa Major, and over there, that bright star is actually the planet Mars. Well to the west of the kite shape group of stars lies Leo the Lion, and southeast of Leo, is the constellation Virgo the Maiden.”
“Thanks Professor Bartowski for the private lesson,” she teased, kissing him on the cheek.
He chuckled low in his throat and pointed to another cluster of stars. “And over there is the constellation Orion." Chuck immediately grew quiet.
“You miss him, don’t you?” Sarah asked.
"Even though he wasn’t around to a great extent, I miss him very much." He fixed his eyes on the governor, clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. “Sarah?”
“Huh?” Sarah turned to face Chuck.
“Thanks again for coming here with me.”
"I wouldn't have missed this for the world."
Chuck reached out covering her hand with his own and gently squeezed it before they turned back to study the stars. Sarah then laid her head back on Chuck's shoulder. Neither spoke, until Sarah broke the silence a few moments later. ”Remember that night standing out on your back porch and I asked you to make a wish on a star out in the horizon?"
“Yes, the Air Force satellite—I remember."
“I assume you made that wish.” She snuggled deeper into his arms.
“Yes.”
“What did you wish for?”
“That Agent Walker is need to know.”
Sarah gave him a very unladylike snort.
Chuck laughed. “Fine, I’ll tell you.” He paused, then in a voice barely audible, he whispered, “I wished for a night like this.”
She wrapped her hands behind his neck to pull him down. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply. Soon the kisses intensified and took on a life all its own. He teased her lips gently with his tongue, begging for entrance, which she granted. Chuck could not seem to get enough of her, she tasted so good. He felt her fingers run through his hair. He shivered, and not because of the cold. Chuck's hands began a journey of their own over Sarah's back and sides. Ever so slowly, he worked his way under her t-shirt, his thumbs brushing the underside of her breast. Sarah moaned in his mouth. When breathing became a necessity, they both pulled back slightly. He then leaned his forehead against hers.
“Should we take this back to our cabin?” He asked breathlessly.
Sarah nodded and after standing up and brushing dirt and pine needles off her shorts, she took Chuck’s hand and helped him up. Chuck removed a flashlight from the side pocket of the knapsack, and shining it to the ground to illuminate their path, they walked hand in hand toward the shuttle stop.
*****
Sunlight filtered through the windows gradually warming the tiny cabin. Chuck slowly opened his eyes feeling surprisingly rested. Smiling to himself, he listened to the sound of gentle breezes blowing through the tops of Ponderosa pine trees. He also listened to the fluting songs and soft whistled calls of the mountain bluebirds. The sounds were soothing. Sarah spooned against him, stirred for a moment in her sleep, then let out a blissful sigh. A smile tugged at her lips.
Chuck gently rolled away from her trying not to jostle her and swung his long legs over the side of the bed. His stomach gave a low growl. Looking over at Sarah, he decided to let her have more sleep. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. After Chuck dressed, he opened the cabin door and stepped outside. Stretching, he observed nature’s cathedral Half Dome bathed in early morning light in the distance. The cool mountain air filled his lungs.
The weather was slightly breezy, but comfortable, another perfect day for hiking. His stomach growled again. But first breakfast.
He walked down the rows of cabins greeted by other campers with a curt nod of their head or said “Morning” to him as he passed by. This is what he remembered about camping, everyone being friendly and no one in a hurry. Life more simple.
Yes, this camping trip had been a great idea. He and Sarah needed this time together to rediscover their newly forged relationship. They had been separated much of the time since Orion’s death; however, he had promises to keep to both his dad and sister. Spending countless hours searching files in the hidden bunker underneath his family house looking for clues as to the whereabouts of his mother. But this weekend would be an espionage free weekend. No dodging bullets or fighting bad guys.
He walked down the gravel path until he reached the Curry Village Pavilion. Chuck opened the main entrance door and headed toward the dining hall. The strong smell of bacon assaulted his senses. After paying the cashier, he grabbed a tray, silverware, and dinner plate and walked around the buffet bar filling his plate with scrambled eggs, hash browns, sausage, bacon, and pancakes. Next, he stopped at the drink station and poured himself a glass of orange juice and milk. Then grabbing a mug and using the hot chocolate dispenser, he dispensed himself a cup of hot cocoa.
Taking his tray of food, he walked into the main seating area. The décor of the dining hall was similar to a rustic mountain lodge with dark paneled walls, oak table and straight back chairs, and a stone fireplace. Not exactly five-star, but cozy.
Most of the tables were occupied and the place buzzed with low conversation. Glancing around the room Chuck noticed Mrs. Stetson sitting alone reading a paperback novel and eating her breakfast. She was in the far corner of the room, by the window, closest to the door—a perfect vantage point to keep an eye on the whole room. ‘Once a spy, always a spy,’ he thought. Walking over to her table, he placed his tray down. “This seat taken?”
She glanced up from her book and grinned. “Agent Bartowski.”
“No, Ma’am, Chuck, just plain old Chuck.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“Okay, Chuck, won’t you sit down. I would love some company.” She gestured toward an empty chair.
He sat down at the table across from her. “Where’s Mr. Stetson this morning?” Chuck asked, after scanning the room searching for him.
“Please, it's Lee and Amanda.” She marked her book and placed it down on the table. “Mr. ‘I’ll have nothing more than a cup of coffee’ is still in bed. What about Sarah?”
“She’s not much of a breakfast eater either.”
“It’s the most important meal of the day,” they chorused together, then laughed.
Chuck glanced at the title of the book, reading it upside down. “A spy novel, Mrs. . . um, Amanda?” An eyebrow arched in curiosity.
“Old habit." She gave a tiny shrug.
“I know, but don’t you find them a bit over-exaggerating?”
“Not like the real world at all.” She smiled, and then took a bite of her waffle. After placing her fork on the side of her plate, she took a sip of milk, and continued. “You have kind eyes, really pretty eyes, trustworthy. You remind me of my husband, yet, you can’t be much older than our middle son.”
“How many children do you have?” Chuck asked, sprinkling salt and pepper onto his eggs and hash browns.
“We have two boys, one daughter, and three grandchildren, with a fourth on the way.”
He let out a slow admiring whistle. "Quite the crew there. How long have you been married?”
“Twenty-three years.”
“Is the rest of your family in the spy business?” Chuck inquired, pouring syrup onto his pancakes. Then using his fork, he cut into the buttermilk goodness, took a bite, chewed briefly, and then washed it down with orange juice.
“Oh, gosh, no. Phillip's a lawyer, like his father.” Chuck looked at her questionably, before Amanda explained, “The boys are from my first marriage. My son Jamie is a freelance photographer, and Lee and I have a daughter, Emily. She's attending her second year at Stanford.”
“My alma mater.” He stated, before taking a slip of hot chocolate. The creamy cocoa slid down his throat and he shivered with pleasure. He put the cup down, fidgeted with his silverware, and then leaned forward. “May I ask you a personal question?” She nodded her head, encouraging him to continue. "How do you find balance?”
“Oh, you mean between being a mother, wife and spy?” She supplied the answer. “It hasn’t been easy, but anything special is worth the risk.” Amanda took a bite of mixed fruit cocktail and eyed him. A brilliant smile filled her face, when she noticed him gazing at her wedding band. “Thinking about marriage, aren’t you? And confused about the cardinal rule of spying.”
He ran a fingertip along the rim of the glass tumbler. “We haven’t been together—I mean ‘really’ together very long, but we have been building the foundation for a number of years. And then yes, the whole cardinal rule thing about spies not falling in love. I love Sarah and I know she loves me. And the CIA knows we are a couple and does not seem to have a problem with us being together, but I’m not sure how they would react to us as a married couple.”
Amanda shook her head slightly and chuckled. “You ramble almost as much as I do.” She put her fork down and pushed away her plate, then leaned forward placing her hands on the table. “Let me give you some great advice I heard from my former section chief. Mr. Melrose told us, "We all look for something, and when we find it, we should hang on with everything we've got." Hang on, Chuck, with everything you've got."
Chuck dabbed the corner of his mouth with his napkin, then leaned back on his chair, mulling over what she had told him.
A moment later, Lee arrived. Leaning over, he kissed his wife on the cheek. “Morning, Sweetheart.” Then eyeing Chuck, he gruffly asked, “Chuck, right?”
“Yes, Sir. Hope you don’t mind me joining your wife for breakfast.”
Lee made a deep guttural sound.
“There’s my morning grizzly bear.” She cupped her husband’s cheeks and gave him a quick peck. “There's a full-service buffet here,” Amanda told him.
“No, I’ll just grab myself a cup of coffee and maybe a doughnut from the coffee shop.”
Chuck and Amanda exchanged glances.
Lee cocked his eyebrow in a silent question and shrugged. “Stay here, I’ll be right back,” he told Amanda. He then left the room headed toward the Pavilion.
“Does he tell you to stay in the car, too?” Chuck laughed, watching Lee leave.
Amanda joined in, laughing so hard tears streamed down her cheeks. Then she wiped her eyes. “It’s never safe in the car.”
"No, it's not," Chuck returned. They both laughed some more.
“It was great visiting with you, Amanda, but I should be getting back to. . .” Chuck began to say, when he saw a tall, athletic looking man with leathery skin, a tough wiry beard, and jet-black hair leave the dining hall through the double doors after throwing a plastic water bottle with a picture of Yosemite Falls on the label into the green recycling bin. Chuck’s eyes flickered and images of this man and his illegal activities flashed before him. "No," he muttered under his breath. "Not now!"
“Are you alright?” Amanda asked, concerned.
Chuck blinked rapidly twice trying to get his bearings and stared at Amanda.
"Did you just flash?"
“No, no, no this can’t be happening. Not here. I’m no longer a spy!” Chuck stood up and walked toward the exit.
Amanda chased after him, trying to keep pace with his long legs. “What is it, Chuck?”
“Bad guy. Kevin McGregor. Domestic terrorist. Member of the Global Action Alliance.” He took a deep breath. “Why can’t I enjoy a vacation without interruptions?”
Amanda smiled knowingly at him.
Chuck took her hand and they ducked behind a brown dumpster. Amanda raised her head first, followed by Chuck. “Do you see him?” she asked.
He shook his head. They both stood up straight and scanned the area, but the man was long gone.
Meanwhile, back inside the dining hall, Lee returned to the table with a cup of coffee and a glazed apple danish and noticed Amanda was not where he had left her. He glanced around the room looking for his missing wife. “Now why can’t she ever do what she is told?”
*****
After he received a fax from the hotel clerk, Lee tentatively took a step into the Mountain Room Lounge where Amanda, Chuck, and Sarah sat around the table, drinking coffee. It was too early in the morning for the lounge to be open, so they were the only people in the room. He walked across the hardwood floor toward them.
“Kevin McGregor—sabotage, attempted arson, arson, and two conspiracy charges.” He placed the copy of the rap sheet down on the table. “He copped a plea and spent sixty months in federal prison. Was released June 2007, since then he has been a model citizen.”
“But what is he doing here in Yosemite?” Amanda asked him.
Lee shrugged his shoulders, appearing indifferent. “Maybe he’s on vacation like the rest of us. Maybe he likes nature, hiking, waterfalls, wildflowers—”
“Lee,” Amanda hissed through gritted teeth.
“What Amanda? I did what you asked. I checked McGregor out. He has no wants, no warrants. He served his time. Sorry, there’s nothing we can do.”
Amanda narrowed her eyes and stared incredulously at him.
He threw up his arms and rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Okay. Okay.” Lee turned his attention to Sarah. “Has it been wrong before?”
“What the Intersect? Well, I guess so, but only because he didn’t have the full story.”
Lee removed his reading glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s just great. How are we supposed to know when he’s got all the information it needs? Does he beep?”
The room grew silent when all three agents turned their heads to look at Lee shocked by his assertion.
“Of course not,” Sarah stammered. “But he has been under a lot of stress since his father died.”
Lee threw a skeptical look in Chuck's direction. “Maybe it has a virus or a glitch.”
“There was that time with Lou,” Sarah continued.
“He’s not malfunctioning—he flashed on the facts the NSA and CIA put in their database on McGregor,” Amanda piped up.
“And then there was the time he blew up Casey’s Crown Vic.”
“Hello. I’m in the room.” Chuck’s back stiffened and he folded his arms across his chest. “Sarah, whose side are you on anyway?”
“I’m not on anyone’s side, Chuck. I’m sorry, but the man has rights and he’s doing nothing wrong by being here and, unless you flash on something specific, we have to leave him alone. This is not our mission.”
“By the way, I never flashed on Lou, I only assumed she—“ Chuck stopped mid-sentence as to not incriminate himself.
Sarah chewed on her lower lip. “Maybe you are assuming now?”
Rapidly pushing his chair back, Chuck rose from the table and breezed out of the lounge. Sarah excused herself and quickly left after him.
Amanda glared at her husband.
“What?” Lee asked, perplexed.
“That was rude.”
“Okay, I’m confused. What did I do wrong?” Lee thrust his hands deep into his pockets and rocked back on his heels.
“You didn’t even give him a chance.”
“I’ve looked into Bartowski’s file. He’s not a real spy, he’s only had six months of training.”
“And years of field experience working with one of the top agents in the country. Sound familiar?”
“Why do you always have to argue with me?”
“I’m not arguing with you—I’m just pointing out that you are wrong and I am right.”
“A-man-da.” Lee rubbed the back of his neck and blew out a breath. “Fine, you’ve spent more time with that box then I have.”
Her eyes narrowed and she raised her voice. “Chuck is not a ‘box.’ He’s a human being.”
“Yes, with a computer in his head. Intelligence gathering used to be about getting dirty in the field—all night stakeouts, thermos filled with two-day old coffee, talking to sources and snitches in dives and dumps, Amanda. Now, it’s all about computers.”
“And you say I’m resistant to change,” she threw the statement back at him.
“Plus, he quit the CIA—I guess he couldn’t hack it.”
“Ohhhh, Lee Stetson, sometimes you can be so pigheaded.” She turned away and crossed her arms in front of her, too angry to speak to him.
*****
A man stood in front of the mirror in the empty restroom admiring the results. The Curry Village shower house had been locked down and closed since the rockslide of 2008. He ran his hand across his clean-shaven face. Smooth. Then he raked his hand through his hair. He had blended it gray and now had a salt and pepper look—'like the Hollywood actors,' he thought, smiling at himself.
He picked up the do-it-yourself hair color box, applicator bottle, color bottle, tube of deep conditioning treatment, instructions and rubber gloves and threw them into the garbage can. Then he placed scissors, a straight razor and can of shaving cream into a large zippered bag and put them into his backpack. Over a white cotton t-shirt, he shrugged on a button-down beige shirt, and after buttoning the shirt, he tucked it into his green trousers. He then attached a gold-plated name tag over his left breast pocket. Finally, he adjusted the National Park Service “Smokey Bear” Ranger hat over his head, and then swung his backpack over his shoulder. Glancing in the mirror once more, he nodded once more, liking what he saw. He knew he would blend right in with the crowds.
*****
Chuck walked down the paved bike path near Yosemite Village. He was deep in thought, when he suddenly heard a sound he couldn’t immediately identify. “Psst.” Chuck turned to locate the noise.
“Psst.” There it was again.
“Psst.” Chuck finally tracked down the source of the sound and saw Amanda Stetson standing behind a large alder tree. She gestured for him and he strolled over and stood by her side. “Where’s Sarah?”
“I told Sarah I was taking a walk to clear my head, so I sent her to the Ansel Adams Gallery and told her to purchase a print. Hopefully, that will keep her occupied. Although, I’m not sure where we’ll have the room on the walls of our apartment to hang a print once we get back to Echo Park. I might have to take down my Tron poster,” Chuck explained as they both walked down the path away from the village square. The sound of gravel crunched under their footsteps.
Amanda gave him a sideways glance and arched an eyebrow. “You have a Tron poster?”
He graced her a lopsided grin. “Yes, my dad gave it to me when I was twelve.”
Amanda burst out laughing.
“I know nerdy, right?”
“No, not at all. You couldn’t have been much more than a toddler when the film was originally released. I like the movie, but then again I always thought Tron looked like Lee.”
“Really? I don’t see the resemblance.”
“Not so much now, but when I first met Lee, I thought the resemblance was uncanny.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” Chuck took in a shuddering breath and averted his eyes, studying the walkway beneath his high-top Converse tennis shoes. “I’m sorry about the argument you had with your husband.”
“It’s okay, even couples who love each other fight. It happens—and no man can drive me crazy as Lee Stetson can.”
A frown crossed his face. “Mr. Stetson doesn’t trust me.”
“No, Lee just doesn’t know you, and what he doesn’t trust is computers. Heck, he still rails against email. And well, you do have a computer in your head.”
“Where is he?”
“He went back to the cabin to lie down. I told him I was going to the gift shop to buy souvenirs for the grandkids.”
They stopped just outside the entrance of the Visitor Center. Chuck opened the door for Amanda. She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. Wandering through the visitor center, they pretended to admire the exhibits, while they chatted.
“Mom, over here is a miniature model of the valley. Look at all the detail,” Chuck said, leading Amanda over to the map in the center of the room.
“Yes, Son,” she responded, picking up on his cue. Amanda studied the layout of the park for several minutes before inquiring, “I have to ask. . . Mom?”
Chuck shrugged in reply. “You kind of remind me of my mom.” He paused for a moment. “You don’t mind?”
“No, I think it's sweet,” she assured him. “Are you and your mother close?”
“She left my sister and me when I was nine.”
"Oh, how awful." She watched as the muscle in Chuck’s jaw pulsated. “However, it appears your father did a good job raising you. Look how you turned out. You’re hardworking, caring, honest. Any man would be proud to call you son.”
Chuck fidgeted with his watch, not wanting to make eye contact with her. “He was proud. . . my dad, he was killed a few weeks ago.”
“I’m sorry.” Hesitantly, she reached out, lightly touching his shoulder, and gave him a sympatric squeeze. “I was just trying to make small talk. I didn’t mean to get personal.”
Chuck merely nodded. Then he led Amanda to another exhibit. He looked at the display, but not really seeing, his eyes expressionless. “It’s not your fault. It was mine. My dad was murdered in cold blood right in front of me and there was nothing I could do. I might as well have pulled the trigger myself,” Chuck told her in a hushed tone. Louder he said, “Did you know Yosemite National Park was sculpted by glaciers and uplift and erosion?”
“Yes, Son.” She gave him an intent look, and her lips pursed with concentration. “Speaking of that noggin of yours, any more information?”
Chuck shook his head. They then stepped outside to stroll around the reconstructed Indian Village attracted to the museum. “I have a bad feeling about this—call it a gut instinct.”
“You are not alone. I have a feeling about this man, too. We need to find him and see what he is up to.” They walked past the Ceremonial Roundhouse. “But where to start? Maybe the campground office has his registration, maybe you could hack into their computer, but that would only help if he was staying here on the valley floor at Curry, Housekeeping, or one of the campgrounds.”
“Yes, and then there is Yosemite Lodge, the Wawona Hotel, and the Ahwahnee, and several campgrounds and hotels outside the park.”
“On the other hand, he might be here for a day trip.”
“Maybe your husband’s right and he’s just here on vacation.”
“I’m not ready to call it quits, are you?” Trying a different approach, she asked, “Tell me about your flash.”
“Huh?”
“What did you see when you flashed on Kevin McGregor?”
Chuck thought carefully. He closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift back. Blurred images suddenly snapped into focus. “I saw a picture of Kevin McGregor, probably a DMV photo, FBI files, rap sheet, images of the WTO riot in Seattle, him throwing glass bottles at police in riot gear, then flames burning down a multimillion-dollar housing development under construction, and his mug shot and identification number.”
“Not much to go on. Too bad we don’t have a computer to do a little investigative research.”
Chuck snapped his fingers. “Maybe we do.” He took his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed his best friend’s number.
“Chuck, “ Morgan answered. “How are things in Yo-Se-mite?”
A confused Chuck heard shuffling noises in the background. “Morgan?” Instead of hearing his friend, he heard a second deeper voice come onto the line. “You called to say you two lovebirds are coming home, right?”
“Actually Casey, Sarah and I were thinking of asking General Beckman for a couple more days off so we could do some backpacking in the Sierra’s.”
“You wouldn’t dare! Don’t leave me alone another day with the moron. Get me out of this training hellhole.”
“Now whose idea was it for Morgan to join the team?” He heard Casey give a not-amused grunt. “I promise to have Sarah back to Castle tomorrow. But please put Morgan back on the phone.”
Casey grunted again and then he heard Morgan’s voice come back on the line. “Sorry, Buddy. Casey’s still mad I singed his eyebrows. Who knew butane could be so flammable?”
“Right, Buddy.” The muscles in his face twitched slightly. “Morgan, I need you to tap into the NSA computer and tell me what information they have on. . .”
He looked at Amanda, who mouthed, “Global Action Alliance.”
“Global Action Alliance,” he repeated, putting the handset on speakerphone.
Back at the secret CIA compound, underneath the Buy More computer and electronics store, Morgan hit a few keys on the keyboard. The information appeared on the large screen above him. Morgan read, “Global Action Alliance is a radical environmental group who uses sabotage, monkey-wrenching and the destruction of private party to stop, as they say, the destruction of the environment. They are classified as a domestic terrorist threat by the FBI. The group is responsible for burning down a woodchip mill in Washington state, an SUV dealership in California, as well as, a yacht marina in the Bay Area.”
“Damn! Not much to go on.” Chuck immediately stopped. “Dam?” He looked over at Amanda and could see silent confirmation that she was thinking the same thing he was. "Could it be that easy?”
"Could what be so easy?" he heard Morgan over the speakerphone.
“Wasn’t a park ranger reported missing Friday morning?” Amanda asked, ignoring Morgan's question.
“Yes, I remember hearing it on the radio that the Big Oak Flat entrance was closed because of police activity.”
“The Big Oak Flat entrance leads to. . . O'Shaughnessy Dam.”
With a few more keystrokes Morgan searched the database for the information he knew Chuck would ask him. “The O'Shaughnessy Dam holds back the Tuolumne River forming the Hetch Hetchy Reservoir. It is owned by the City and County of San Francisco. The primary purpose is to supply drinking water to the San Francisco Bay Area. The dam provides water to 2.4 million people in the city of San Francisco, San Mateo and Alameda Counties and the San Joaquin Valley. In the summer it provides one percent of California's electrical power.”
“Still not much to go on,” Amanda stated simply.
“Who’s there with you, Chuck? That does not sound like Sarah. You aren’t two-timing Sarah, are you?” Morgan inquired.
Chuck glanced at Amanda and laughed nervously. Amanda’s eyebrows shot up, and her lips twitched into a faint smile.
“Bye, Morgan.” Chuck pushed the end call button to close the conversation, then he turned to Amanda, and shook his head. “How did a sweet lady like yourself get involved in the spy business?”
Amanda laughed out loud. “Long story.” She took a deep breath, before continuing, “Well, it all started one morning when took a friend of mine to the train station and this man dressed in a waiter’s uniform handed me a package and told me, “Get on the train and give this to the man in the red hat,” and so I. . .did.”
“Wow! You can’t do things like that today!”
“No. The times they have most definitely changed.”
“And you've never regretted your decision?" Chuck marveled.
“To take the package? Not for a single moment."
“Why did you take the package?”
“It was something about his eyes. I gazed up at him and it was almost as if I had known him forever.” She shook her head bemused. “Fate’s a funny thing. Who would ever have thought a divorced mother of two and a spy would fall in love and get married?”
“Almost as preposterous as a nerd at the Buy More falling in love with a super spy.”
She laughed again. “Tell me Chuck, how did a sweet young man like yourself get involved in the spy business?”
“Long story, but it all started a few years back when I got an email from an old college buddy. . . “
After Chuck had finished his tale, Amanda asked, “And your family knows you are a spy—rather was a spy.”
Chuck nodded his head in acknowledgment. “Can you keep a secret?” Amanda gave him a sideways glance and Chuck chortled. “Yeah, I think you can. I was raised mostly by my older sister and I made a promise to Ellie I would quit the spy business, since the two of us is all we have left. My sister witnessed the death of our father, and took his loss very hard. However, I have been keeping a secret and I hate lying to her.”
“Are you spying again?”
“No, but I also made a promise to our father, before he died, that I would find our mother and bring her home.”
“It’s not easy to lie to the ones we love. Whatever you do I hope you’re not keeping secrets from Sarah.”
Chuck did not answer.
Amanda shook her head. “Chuck.” She then heaved a heavy sigh. “Let me tell you a story about a mystery marriage. . . “
Several moments later.
“And you kept your relationship secret from your mother and the boys and the Agency?”
Amanda simply nodded.
“How did you finally come clean?”
“Emily." Her lips twitched upward. "Wasn’t easy keeping a secret marriage, but it was even harder keeping a secret pregnancy.”
Chuck laughed. “Yes, I guess it would be.”
“Well, we better go find Lee and tell him what we know. I know it’s all circumstantial, but we’ll see what Lee wants to do with the information. You go find Sarah and meet us at our place, cabin number ten.”
*****
Amanda breezed into the cabin she and her husband were staying at for the weekend. She saw Lee sitting at a desk writing a letter. Then putting the pen down, he looked up at her.
“Lee, Chuck and I think we figured out what McGregor is doing here in Yosemite. Remember the missing park ranger? Well, he went missing from the entrance near O’Shaughnessy Dam.”
“Amanda.” He stood up and walked over to her, putting his hands on her shoulders.
“No listen. You always told me to stick with what you know and this is what I know.” She emphasized by poking him in the chest with her finger.
“A-man-da!”
“What?”
“I already went to the camp office and made a few phone calls.”
“You did?”
“You bet I did?” He rocked back onto his heels. “I put an APB out on McGregor about an hour ago—wanted for questioning only at the moment." A frown crossed his face. "What is this about a dam?”
“We believe McGregor has plans to blow up the dam. His terrorist group has been a strong advocate for the removal of the dam, and we think he is here this weekend to carry out the plan.”
“That’s good work.”
“Well, I have a very logical mind.”
“Yes, you do.” He nodded his head in agreement.
“Lee, why did you call the authorities when you didn’t trust Chuck or me?”
He placed his hands at her waist and gazed into her eyes. “Because someone once upon a time trusted me and was willing to take a chance and believed in me when no one else would.”
“Awww.” She gave him a magnetic grin.
He pulled her in closer to him and lowered his mouth to hers when they heard someone knocking at the door.
They both smiled at each other. “Some things never change,” Lee said, rolling his eyes.
*****
The afternoon blew in hot and dry, typical for summer within the Hetch Hetchy Valley. The tendrils of Wapama Falls cascaded into the reservoir behind O'Shaughnessy Dam, while vibrant splashes of wildflowers put on a show. Dark purple and white lupine, sierra gooseberry, and purple owl’s clover blossoms spread out before him.
Lee Stetson leaned over the concrete railing watching the discharge from the dam face. He whispered, “Look sharp, people,” into his hidden microphone and then adjusted his earpiece. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced over the day use parking area and the surveillance van, which resembled an older motor home. His wife was inside observing people coming and going. His attention then turned to Chuck and Sarah who walked across the dam bridge deck span, pretending to take pictures of the scenery around them.
Lee drew a slow breath and let it out. “I hope the kid is right. We’re on an all-out multiple agency scramble.”
A voice cracked back and he heard Amanda tell him, “He’s right, Lee. I know he’s right.”
“Just so you know if he’s wrong, you know whose ass is going to be in a sling?”
“Leeeee.” She drew out his name as though it had two syllables.
“Okay. Okay.” Lee continued to observe sightseers, pedestrians, and motor traffic in and around the dam’s perimeter. A couple agents in a pick-up truck, dressed in maintenance uniforms, appeared to be inspecting the structure. He then spied a park ranger dressed in National Park Service uniform and wearing dark sunglasses carrying a Swiss Army-brand backpack over his shoulder. The man was about the right height and build, but no beard and had gray hair. He walked closer to Lee and tipped his Ranger hat as he passed.
“Amanda, what was the makeup and build of the missing park ranger?” Lee whispered into the microphone after the man passed by.
“Caucasian male, six foot-three inches, 200 pounds.”
“The same size as McGregor. I think this may be our man.” Lee tipped his head, silently ordering Chuck and Sarah to follow.
The man looked back over his shoulder and picked up his pace. Lee then noticed he pulled something from his bag. It looked like a detonator.
“Freeze, Federal Agents,” Lee commanded, after he pulled his gun from his holster and pointed it at the man.
McGregor spun around quickly grabbing Chuck. He pointed a gun at Chuck's temple, while holding a detonator in his other hand. “This was not how this was supposed to go down. No one was supposed to get hurt!” He cried out, nervously shaking.
Lee saw Sarah had trained her weapon on McGregor too. He then began edging his way closer to them. “We can talk about it, but first I need you to release the hostage and put the detonator down.”
“All I wanted was a little explosion, enough to damage the dam but not completely destroy it, just enough damage so it would have to be removed. Force the hands of the politicians to finally restore the Hetch Hetchy Valley.”
“The State of California is already looking into the removal of the dam, but these things take time.” Lee stepped closer. He could see beads of sweat forming on the man’s forehead.
“No!! Too often all that happens is just another study. I’m tired of their damn studies. I’m sorry, but I see no other way out of this.” With trembling hands, he cocked the gun he held in his right hand.
Chuck cleared his mind, and instantly random pictures, fighting, and martial arts images flashed before his eyes. He winked at Sarah and with a quick backwards kick, he knocked McGregor off balance. McGregor grabbed for Chuck and they both fell to the cement decking. Sarah leaped into action, grabbing the detonator before it hit the ground.
Lee watched the two men tussle on the ground and held his weapon steady waiting for a clear shot. Agents were now on both ends of the bridge running toward the commotion.
Scrambling, Chuck and McGregor got back up on their feet and the punches flew. Chuck found an opening and hit McGregor in the gut with a left hook and then an upper right to the jaw. McGregor hit Chuck in the nose and his nose began to bleed. He then tried to body slam Chuck, but Chuck sidestepped him and McGregor fell over the edge of the dam. He held on to the lip of the dam by his fingertips, screaming. Chuck and Lee helped him back up onto the bridge deck. The backpack with the improvised explosive device tumbled over the dam, and was soon carried away by the raging current of the Tuolumne River.
Lee removed handcuffs from his back pocket and cuffed McGregor. He shoved McGregor toward another agent. “Read this man his Miranda rights.”
He then took in the sight around him. Two FBI agents lead McGregor toward a waiting patrol car, while other agents congratulated one another. A Navy helicopter flew over the dam and Lee knew a dive team would be searching the river for the backpack full of explosives, but doubt it would even be found. He looked around for his wife in the chaotic scene, and as if reading his thoughts, he sensed her gaze. Turning their eyes met. He took a tentative step toward her, but she ran up to him and embraced him.
Stepping back, she took his hand then motioned for him to come with her. Hand in hand, they walked across the bridge. After a few steps, Lee released her hand and put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to him as they strolled. “I owe you an apology.”
“No, you owe Chuck an apology.” She stopped and gazed up at him.
He put his hands on her shoulders. “I’ll apologize to him, but first I need to request forgiveness—I was an idiot.” Amanda did not say anything. “I don’t hear you disagreeing with me.”
“Lee, what do you want me to say? Fine, you may not have trusted Chuck, but you should have trusted me. I thought you had learned long ago not to doubt my instincts, so why now?”
He held up his hands in mock surrender. "I should have known that your instincts about Chuck were right. I’m sorry for doubting you.”
She then poked a finger in his chest and continued, “I’m your partner and your wife.”
“You’re right—you’re always right.” He winked and kissed her on the cheek. “Something else I can add to the list of things I love about you.” He gave her a dimpled grin and she returned his smile. Lee then gestured over to where Chuck and Sarah stood next to the fountain, holding hands, smiling, their faces mere inches from each other. “Do you think they’re gonna to be okay?”
Amanda nodded her head. “I have a feeling everyone’s going to live happily ever after.”
Lee smiled recognizing the same line she had told him so many years ago. “You always were much better at reading people than I ever was.”
They walked over to Chuck and Sarah. Lee extended his hand to Chuck. “Bartowski, it was a pleasure working with you. I could use a man like you on the A-TAC team if you ever decide to come back to the CIA.”
Chuck returned the handshake. “I’ll think about it—although my family is in Burbank, and that is where I think I would like to stay at the moment,” he said looking at Sarah. “But thank you, Sir.”
“It’s Lee. Sir makes me think of the Colonel.” Lee made a sour face.
“Oh, you know Casey?”
*****
Tag
Chuck swirled the Merlot around in the crystal wine goblet. The burgundy liquid sloshed back and forth in the glass. He took a sip taking in the atmosphere. Lee and Amanda had invited him and Sarah to dinner for their final evening in Yosemite and the Ahwahnee Dining Room was everything Chuck had read about and more. The Native American theme was incorporated in the décor and furnishings through unique and beautiful architecture. Immense logs of stripped and polished sugar pine supported ceiling wrought iron candelabras suspended from the timbers with high beamed ceilings that complemented the room’s granite pillars, and floor-to-ceiling windows. The perfect ambiance for a memorable dining experience. Both Lee and himself sported suit jackets and ties, while the ladies were beautiful in their elegant evening gowns. Amanda wore a white chiffon with spaghetti straps and Sarah was in a strapless red satin dress.
“Thank you so much for the lovely meal, Lee and Amanda,” Sarah gushed. “The food was absolutely divine. I especially loved the Chocolate Espresso Torte with raspberry sauce.”
“So much better than the Weinerlicious,” Chuck snickered and shared an amused, private smile with Sarah.
Lee and Amanda mutually glanced at each other and shrugged.
“Oh, I forgot to add. . . I’m happy to report that Roberts, the missing National Park Ranger, was found safe in a hunting cabin not far from Big Oak Flat. Bound and gagged. Hungry, but alive,” Lee told the group.
“Great news,” Chuck replied. He took another sip of his wine, enjoying the silky smoothness as it slid down his throat.
“Next time you are in Washington, be sure to visit us in Arlington. We would love the company and we have plenty of room,” Amanda told Chuck and Sarah. Lee nodded his head in confirmation.
“Ditto, and if you’re ever in Burbank, look us up,” Sarah added.
“We’ll do, although I don’t see any trips to Burbank any time soon, not exactly the hot spot for international intrigue," Lee said, reaching for the wine bottle and filling the glass halfway before setting the bottle back on the table. “Nothing bad ever happens in the suburbs.”
“You’d be surprised,” Chuck mumbled under his breath, before he took a quick sip of wine. “A toast.” He raised his glass to his friends.
Everyone else raised their own glass. “A toast.”
“To espionage free weekends.”
They clicked their glasses in unspoken agreement.