With His Dying Breath

I don’t own Chuck

Three days later

Tabor. The Czech Republic. Sarah looked around, taking things in. There she saw the small family grocery she had shopped at. The tailor that was still working out of the building that looked like it would fall down at any moment. Why the hell had Chuck Bartowski come to Tabor?

Sarah had started her search in Prague, but she was sure it was a waste of time. The longer she was there, the more she was sure the man she was looking for was in Tabor, or at least he had been.

She and Bryce had several safe houses over the years they had procured as the Andersons. She walked up to the spot where the abandoned car that had been stolen from the Prague train station was found. Money had been left in the car, more than enough to refill the fuel that had been used to drive to Tabor.

Such a move screamed Chuck Bartowski, but it didn’t scream that he was captured, or going against his will, and that puzzled her. She turned and looked down a familiar street. The disposal of the vehichle was timed perfectly. The car dropped off at night, Chuck left here, and could have gone any direction…any direction at all. Sarah knew where he went, at least she thought she did.

Her target was less than half a mile down the road, and she took off walking, making good time. As she approached the house, that looked dilapidated, she took in a second to be pleased with herself. The house sat off the road, protected by a fence. It was the perfect camouflage. What looked to be a falling down house, was much more than that. She knew the front door was barred, but she was more interested in the locked garage.

She walked up to the door and examined it. It hadn’t been forced, but she saw where it had been opened, which meant someone knew the code. She could see tire tracks of what she could only assume was the Skoda Octavia that was once housed in the garage. She walked back to the house, went around to the back door, and looked at the potted plant that sat on the back porch. There were two ways to get into the safe house. One was a key, the key she had. The second…

She examined the plant, and saw that it had been moved. Someone had found the keypad that was buried in the bottom of the flower pot. She pulled out the plant (a realistic looking fake) and examined the keypad closely. It had not been forced open, there were no marks or signs that someone had got to the inside of the pad. She put it back, straightened up the flower, and walked to the door. Again, there was no sign of forced entry.

The number to get into the house was her grandmother’s telephone number, minus the area code, that she had stayed at frequently as a kid. Bryce didn’t know how Sarah had come up with the seven digit code, and she had never told him.

“Chuck, what are you doing?” she asked softly. She pulled out the key, turned the lock, and waited. She heard a hiss, a tumbler turn, and the door opened. She pushed the door open, and walked in. She hit the light switch, and shook her head. The entire house had been dusted. “He was here, alright,” she muttered to herself.

She walked over to the covered couch, and dropped herself onto it. How the hell did Chuck Bartowski know about her safe house, the car, and how to get inside? She hopped up, knowing there was one more thing to check.

She walked over to the desk, pulled open the door, and saw a safe in front of her. She spun the dial first one way, then the other, and back the same as the first way. The safe popped open. There was money, weapons, and passports in there, but on top of everything, on a pile of money that wasn’t as tall as it was the last time she saw it, was a sticky note.

I O U it said in that neat familiar scrawl of his. She smiled as she saw what was hastily added at the bottom. I’ll pay it back, I promise, I won’t do you like Morgan.

She shut the safe, turned the dial, shut the door on the desk, and walked back over to the couch. She sat down, and pulled a map out of her bag. She looked at it, and searched. She closed her eyes and shook her head. He wouldn’t.

Salzburg, Austria. That was her closest next safe house. She folded the map up, and stood. She could check a few security cameras. See if her car had driven in that direction. She’d like some confirmation, but her gut was telling her where he was. But the question was why? Why had Chuck left? Because that was becoming clear. He wasn’t running away from danger and being a traitor. Someone running away didn’t hack the Ring and do all the damage he had done. Someone running away didn’t leave sticky notes saying they’d pay the money back.

Chuck Bartowski was doing something, and someone had gotten into his ear for him to do it. Was it his father? No, that wasn’t it, because as much as she liked Stephen, he ran away from problems, not to them. What the hell was in that new Intersect? She picked up her phone, and dialed the number. “Casey, we may have a problem.”

-ooooo-

“Eleanor,” Stephen said over the encrypted phone he had made for him and his daughter. “I just heard from Charles.”

“Is he okay?” Ellie asked. She was in her office. She still wasn’t one hundred percent sure what the hell was going on, but she now understood that Chuck was trying…well, she really wasn’t sure what he was trying to do, and for that she thought she might murder him when he came home. After she hugged him.

“He’s fine,” Stephen told her. “He wanted you to know not to be surprised if someone showed up there looking for him.”

“And if they do?” Ellie asked.

“Tell them you have no idea where he is,” Stephen replied.

“Well, that’s the damn truth, isn’t it,” Ellie said. “I need to go, someone is at my door.” Ellie hung up, still a little annoyed. She locked the cell phone in her safe, stood up, walked over, and opened the door. “Sorry about that,” she said to the tall man standing there. “HIPPA regulations,” she explained. “I had to put up all the paperwork before I saw you.”

“I understand,” he said. “I work for the government myself, so I am always appreciative for those that keep secrets.”

“What can I do for you…” Ellie trailed off.

“Shaw, Daniel Shaw of the CIA,” he said, shaking Ellie’s hand. “I’m here to talk to you about neuroscience.” Ellie smiled at him.