Right Place At The Right Time

Right Place At The Right Time

Author’s Note

Chuck realizing that the world around him is much bigger and more dangerous than he ever imagined. What began as a simple attempt to learn more about Sarah has pulled him into something involving the Demetrios family, law enforcement, powerful connections, and secrets he never knew existed.

Chuck is beginning to put pieces together, but every answer seems to create another question. He doesn’t know who he can trust, and for the first time, he’s starting to realize that even the people closest to him may know things about his life that he’s never been told.

At the same time, his friendship with Lou becomes more important than ever. Their conversation and their goodbye are meant to show just how much they care about each other without changing the nature of their relationship. In a chapter filled with uncertainty and danger, their friendship gives Chuck one small piece of solid ground.

But Chuck has no idea that the lessons his mother spent years teaching him about awareness, observation, and recognizing danger may soon become more important than he ever imagined.

Chapter 13

Where To Turn To

Casey sat in the driver’s seat of the surveillance van, binoculars raised as he watched Bartowski standing across the street with Stavros Demetrios. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was expecting to see anymore. The kid had already surprised him twice since arriving at the warehouse, and Casey had learned a long time ago that surprises were usually followed by problems.

He lowered the binoculars and let his eyes rest on the warehouse for a moment. The engine idled quietly beneath him, barely audible through the closed windows.

His mind drifted back to the briefing that had started this assignment.

General Beckman had been sitting behind a conference table, several folders spread in front of her when Casey entered the room. The evening sun was disappearing behind the building, casting long shadows through the western windows and across the polished table. One folder sat apart from the others beside her right elbow.

A red classification stamp was visible across the top.

CLASSIFIED

Beneath it was a name.

CHARLES IRVING BARTOWSKI

Casey stopped several feet from the table and rendered a sharp salute.

“At ease, Major. No need for that.”

“Good evening, General. You asked to see me.”

“I did.” Beckman gestured toward one of the leather chairs across from her. “Have a seat.”

Casey sat, his eyes never leaving the folder.

Beckman picked it up and held it across the table.

“Major Casey, this is your next assignment.”

Casey reached for the folder.

“It’s classified at the highest operational level. You are being read into this because I require you to have a complete understanding of your responsibilities. Once you leave this room, what you hear stays with you. No discussion with other personnel unless they are specifically cleared for this operation. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Casey looked down at the folder but didn’t open it.

“The individual in that file is Charles Irving Bartowski. From this moment forward, he is your primary protective assignment.”

Casey finally looked up. “My assignment is protection?”

“Protection, surveillance, and threat assessment,” Beckman clarified. “You will maintain discreet coverage of Bartowski, identify potential threats before they reach him, and intervene only when necessary to prevent harm.”

Casey frowned.

“Why me?”

“Because I trust you to remain focused on the mission.”

Casey looked at the folder again.

“Sounds like babysitting.”

Beckman’s expression didn’t change.

“Call it whatever you like, Major. Your orders remain the same.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You are not to become distracted by the nature of the assignment. If you encounter something that appears unrelated to Bartowski’s protection, you report it through the appropriate channel unless immediate action is required to preserve his safety. You are not to abandon your primary responsibility because another situation appears more important.”

Casey nodded once.

“Understood.”

“Good.”

Beckman folded her hands on the table.

“There is another matter you need to understand. Bartowski is not an ordinary civilian.”

Casey’s attention sharpened.

“According to our current assessments, he possesses an exceptional level of intelligence. His academic and technical abilities place him well above the normal range, particularly in computer engineering and related disciplines. His potential has attracted attention from people and organizations that would be very interested in gaining access to him.”

“How much attention?”

“Enough that I want you watching him.”

That answer told Casey more than Beckman probably intended.

He opened the folder.

Inside were photographs, academic records, background information, family history, and several pages Casey couldn’t immediately identify.

“His parents?”

“Stephen and Mary Bartowski.”

Casey looked up.

“They’re government?”

“Both have longstanding connections to classified government work. Their records are restricted, and you are not cleared for every aspect of them.”

Casey turned another page.

“Then why am I being given this?”

“Because you need enough information to understand why Bartowski may be a target. You don’t need to know everything his parents have done.”

Casey continued reading.

“Second-year university student. Computer engineering.”

“Yes.”

“Socially awkward.”

“According to the profile.”

“Twenty years old?”

“Currently nineteen.”

Casey looked at the photograph again.

“He doesn’t look like much.”

“That is precisely why I don’t want you making assumptions.”

Casey closed the folder halfway.

“What’s the threat?”

“We don’t have a confirmed threat.”

“Then why the protection detail?”

Beckman held his gaze.

“Because several separate pieces of intelligence have begun pointing in the same direction.”

Casey waited.

Beckman continued, “Certain individuals have developed an interest in Bartowski. We don’t yet know precisely why. Some of those individuals have connections to organized crime. Others have access to information they shouldn’t have.”

Casey’s expression hardened slightly.

“Which means somebody is already watching him.”

“Possibly.”

“And you want me watching the people watching him.”

“I want you watching everyone.”

Casey nodded slowly.

That sounded more like an assignment he understood.

He looked back down at the photograph.

“What does Bartowski know?”

“Very little.”

“Does he know he’s being protected?”

“Not yet.”

Casey looked up.

“Does he know who I am?”

“No.”

“Will he?”

“Eventually, I suspect that will become unavoidable. But not now.”

Casey closed the folder.

“So I’m a shadow.”

“For the moment.”

“Surveillance only?”

“Unless the situation changes.”

Casey leaned back slightly.

“And if somebody comes after him?”

“You protect him.”

“And if he gets himself into trouble?”

“You keep him alive long enough for us to determine why.”

Casey almost smiled.

“That sounds like babysitting again.”

Beckman ignored the comment.

“Major, I want to make something absolutely clear. You are not being assigned to Bartowski because he is important to you, and you are not being assigned because I expect you to develop a personal relationship with him. You are there because I believe he may become important to national security.”

Casey’s eyes narrowed.

“May become?”

“That’s all you need to know.”

There it was.

The part she wasn’t telling him.

Casey had been in enough briefings to recognize a carefully constructed answer when he heard one.

He stood, tucking the folder beneath his arm.

“Anything else, General?”

“One thing.”

Casey stopped.

“Do not underestimate him.”

Casey glanced down at the photograph.

“He’s a nineteen-year-old computer engineering student.”

“Yes.”

“Not exactly the profile of a field operative.”

Beckman gave him a measured look.

“Neither was the profile of several people you’ve worked with before they became very good at surprising you.”

Casey couldn’t argue with that.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He turned toward the door.

“Major.”

Casey stopped again.

“Report directly to me if the situation changes. I don’t want information concerning Bartowski filtered through three different levels of command before it reaches my desk.”

“Understood.”

“And Casey?”

He looked back.

“Keep him alive.”

Casey gave a short nod.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He left the room with the folder under his arm.

From the profile Casey had read, Chuck Bartowski was supposed to be a fairly ordinary nineteen-year-old computer geek, a second-year university student studying computer engineering who spent his free time doing whatever computer geeks did with their equally geeky friends. Intelligent, socially awkward, more comfortable around computers than people, and with no obvious background in anything resembling fieldwork.

Then Casey had noticed the side note buried farther down the file.

Extensively trained in martial arts, specializing in Muay Thai, with a basic knowledge of hand-to-hand combat. Additional training in basic espionage tradecraft provided by Mary Bartowski.

That had caught Casey’s attention. The martial arts training was unusual enough, but the tradecraft was what really stood out. Casey had spent enough time around military and intelligence personnel to know that nobody casually taught a teenager how to read people, assess his surroundings, or recognize when someone was following him. He gave a small, approving grunt at the memory.

Maybe the kid wasn’t quite as ordinary as the rest of the file suggested.

He certainly didn’t sound like someone who belonged in a confrontation with a Demetrios.

Yet there he was.

Casey raised his binoculars again and watched Bartowski carefully.

The profile had been wrong about one thing already.

The kid was far more interesting than the file had suggested.

The kid standing in front of Stavros Demetrios didn’t quite fit that description.

Chuck kept his hands buried in his pockets with his elbows pushed outward, slowly rocking back and forth on his shoes as though he were trying to convince everyone around him that he was intimidated. Some of it looked natural. Casey could believe the kid was uncomfortable, but there was something deliberate underneath it too. He was performing, and the longer Casey watched him, the more convinced he became that Bartowski was putting on the act for Stavros’s benefit.

Casey listened through the small device he’d planted on Chuck’s collar when the kid had collided with him outside the warehouse. Stavros was doing most of the talking, but Chuck kept asking questions in that nervous, almost apologetic manner of his, and somehow the Demetrios kid kept answering them.

Casey had seen people manipulate conversations before. Bartowski wasn’t pushing hard enough to make Stavros suspicious. He was simply giving the man enough room to keep talking.

Casey kept his binoculars trained on the pair and watched Chuck’s eyes as the conversation continued. The nervous act remained in place, but his attention kept moving. He registered the two men standing behind Stavros, glanced toward the warehouse, then returned his attention to the young Demetrios. None of it was obvious. If Casey hadn’t been specifically watching for it, he might have missed it.

The kid wasn’t just standing there absorbing whatever Stavros wanted to tell him. He was taking everything in.

Casey’s attention shifted briefly toward the warehouse’s side entrance. A man was standing there, watching the conversation from a short distance away. Casey recognized the face immediately. He had seen the man earlier that day in a separate NSA briefing package circulated to agents concerning persons of interest. The photograph had been included among several individuals connected to ongoing investigations, and Casey had made a mental note of the face at the time.

The man was a person of interest, an agent with the Los Angeles FBI Bureau suspected of working for the Demetrios family. Watching him observe the meeting, Casey was becoming increasingly convinced this was the same agent who had taken the photographs and passed them along to Yari Demetrios, the very photographs Bartowski had been asking Stavros about.

Casey would call that in later. For now, his assignment was still Bartowski.

He lowered the binoculars long enough to raise his camera and take several photographs of the agent before returning his attention to the conversation. He kept the camera within reach, wondering why the man was watching the same meeting.

That didn’t match the file.

Casey shifted his attention completely back to Chuck just as Stavros appeared to reach the end of his patience and told him to leave. Chuck turned toward the white car, but Casey caught something that hadn’t been part of the performance.

A brief smile crossed the kid’s face before disappearing just as quickly.

Casey watched him continue toward the vehicle and understood what he had been seeing. Bartowski had been playing him. He’d allowed Stavros to believe he was intimidating him while quietly getting him to reveal information.

Casey leaned back slightly in his seat. Either the kid had one hell of an instinct for people, or there was considerably more to Chuck Bartowski than the profile suggested. He wasn’t ready to decide which one it was, but he filed the observation away.

Before starting the van, Casey gave the warehouse and surrounding area one final sweep through the windshield. The man he’d photographed was already disappearing back inside, exactly where he’d been standing before the meeting ended.

Casey watched the entrance for another moment, then started the engine.

“This is turning into a hell of a lot more than watching some kid,” he muttered.

When Chuck and the brunette finally pulled away from the shipping yard in the small white car, Casey waited several seconds before starting the van. He followed at a comfortable distance, keeping four or five car lengths between them and making no attempt to stay directly behind them.

They stopped at the deli, and Casey watched the exchange from far enough away that neither Bartowski nor the woman had any reason to notice him. From there, Chuck continued to a house Casey recognized from the profile as belonging to his parents. Casey checked the information again just to make certain, then watched as Chuck disappeared inside.

He unwrapped a cold sandwich and opened one of the bottles of water he’d brought with him, settled back in the van, and waited. He wasn’t going anywhere until Bartowski did.

Once he was sure the kid was settled in, Casey waited several minutes before climbing out of the van. He walked casually toward Chuck’s car, keeping his movements relaxed and unremarkable, then crouched briefly near the underside of the vehicle and attached a small tracking device where it would remain out of sight. He made one final check to ensure nothing looked disturbed before returning to the van.

Casey settled back behind the wheel and glanced at his watch. There was no reason to sit directly outside the house while waiting for Bartowski to return. The tracker would tell him where the kid was going once he left, allowing Casey to get ahead of him instead of following from the moment he pulled away.

He started the engine, moved the van farther down the street, and parked where he could wait without drawing attention. From there, he kept an occasional eye on the house while the tracker remained ready.

Several hours later, Chuck finally exited the house and climbed into his car. He drove slowly enough that Casey had no trouble getting ahead of him. By the time the tracker showed the car approaching the Echo Park apartment complex, Casey had already parked his van beyond the entrance where he could observe without attracting attention.

Within a few minutes, Chuck’s car appeared and pulled into the complex.

Casey raised his binoculars and watched the kid remain behind the wheel. Something was clearly bothering him. Chuck sat there for several minutes, staring ahead as though trying to work something out before finally getting out of the car.

Casey continued watching until something caught his attention.

A black sedan drove slowly past the entrance.

His eyes followed it automatically. The vehicle continued down the street, but two blocks later the driver made a U-turn and came back toward the complex. The sedan slowed as it approached Chuck’s car before eventually parking far enough away to observe the area without immediately drawing attention.

The driver stayed inside.

Casey lowered his binoculars for a moment, then raised them again. He didn’t recognize the vehicle, but the timing bothered him. The man had driven past Chuck’s car, gone two blocks, turned around, and returned to a position with a clear view of the same vehicle Casey had been following for the last few hours.

That was enough to keep Casey interested.

He watched Chuck leave his car, head toward his apartment, and disappear inside before shifting his attention back to the black sedan. The driver hadn’t moved. Casey studied the vehicle through his binoculars, trying to get a better look at the man behind the wheel.

Then he recognized him.

It was the same man he’d photographed at the shipping yard.

Casey leaned back slightly in his seat and stared at the sedan. He still didn’t know the man’s role or whether the two appearances were connected, but the timing was too precise to dismiss.

The man hadn’t ended up here by accident.

Casey settled deeper into his seat and kept watching.

“This should be interesting,” he murmured.

For now, he had no reason to interfere. His assignment was still Chuck, and until the stranger made a move, Casey would simply watch and wait.

Whatever the man’s play was, Casey intended to know what it was before he made it.

The warehouse was several miles behind them before Chuck finally spoke. He had spent most of the drive replaying the confrontation with Stavros, going over everything the young Demetrios had said and trying to fit it into what he already knew. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that the Demetrios family was involved in far more than legitimate import-export business.

Lou had been watching him from behind the wheel without interrupting. She knew Chuck well enough to recognize when his silence meant he was thinking rather than simply being quiet, and right now his mind was obviously working overtime.

“Hey, Lou,” Chuck finally said. “What did you mean when you said you could get your father involved? Why would that affect Stavros? Does your father have some kind of leverage over the Demetrios family?”

Lou glanced at him before returning her attention to the road.

“Let’s just say my father and the Demetrios family have had business dealings before, and my father is not exactly friends with Mr. Demetrios.” She hesitated. “Yes, I suppose you could say he has some leverage, but it’s not something I’m comfortable talking about.”

“Fair enough.”

Chuck turned back toward the windshield, but a moment later he looked at her again.

“Whatever it is, it seemed to have an effect on Stavros.”

“It did,” Lou admitted. “You don’t know half of it, Chuck. To Stavros, his father walks on water. He idolizes him, and he’s always trying to make himself sound more important than he really is. That was one of the reasons I ended things with him. He was a chronic bragger, and my father had been telling me for a long time that I needed to stay away from that family.”

Chuck nodded slowly, letting that settle.

“So what are you going to do now?” Lou asked.

“First, I need to contact the FBI. I want to get hold of Assistant Director Graham and unload some of this information on him. Then he can decide what matters and what doesn’t.”

“And after that?”

“I need to talk to my parents.”

Lou glanced at him.

“My mother, especially. I’m almost certain she works for some kind of government agency. She never talks about what she does, and everything about her work is classified. But after everything she’s taught me over the years, I have a feeling there’s a lot more to my mother than I ever realized.”

He gave a small shrug.

“If I can’t get anything from her, maybe my dad can help. I’m starting to think there are some secrets hiding behind that computer of his too.”

Lou smiled faintly.

“That sounds like your family.”

They continued down the road for another minute before Lou spoke again.

“Just promise me something, Chuck.”

He looked over.

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

Chuck gave her an offended look.

“I don’t do stupid.”

Lou raised an eyebrow.

“Chuck.”

“Okay. Occasionally.”

“I’m serious. Don’t decide you have to be the hero and fix this yourself. You’ve done that before, and it usually ends with you getting yourself into trouble.”

“I know.”

“These people are dangerous. Let the FBI do their job, even if there is a crooked agent somewhere inside the Bureau. That doesn’t mean everyone is dirty.”

Chuck gave a quiet snort of laughter.

“We can only hope.”

His eyes drifted toward the clock on the dashboard.

4:28.

There was still plenty of time to make a few phone calls, talk to his parents, and hopefully find some way to contact Sarah.

“Do you really think Mr. Demetrios has all those judges and the mayor and people in law enforcement working for him?” Chuck asked.

Lou thought about it.

“I wouldn’t put it past him. I know what my father does, and if Yari Demetrios is one of the people he’s done business with, then there’s a good chance he has connections in other criminal organizations too.”

She glanced at Chuck.

“Do you have any idea what Stavros was talking about when he said something had been taken from their house?”

“No. Sarah never mentioned anything to me.” Chuck paused. “I’m not even sure she has whatever it is. Maybe she does and she’s afraid to give it to the FBI. It could be the only protection she has.”

“That would make her a target.”

“Exactly.”

Chuck stared out the passenger window, his mind already working through the possibilities.

“But there’s still a chance the FBI knows all of this already,” Lou said. “Maybe this is old news to them and we’re just not in the loop.”

“You’re probably right.”

Lou smiled slightly.

“You’re not exactly important to the FBI, Chuck. I doubt they’re following you around because they think you’re secretly solving their cases.”

Chuck looked at her.

“That’s comforting.”

“It was supposed to be.”

He laughed quietly and returned his attention to the passing streets.

For several minutes they drove in silence before Chuck finally spoke again.

“You know, Lou, I’m sorry Robert got involved in all of this.”

Lou’s expression changed.

“I’m trying not to think about it.”

“I know you weren’t with him for very long, and I know it wasn’t serious, but…”

“It still hurts,” she admitted. “What I can’t understand is why someone like Robert would do something that stupid. Why would he steal from a man like Yari Demetrios?”

Chuck thought about it.

“If I were law enforcement, I’d put the robbery and what happened to Robert and the others on the same evidence board. I wouldn’t call it a fact, but I’d definitely call it a possibility.”

Lou remained quiet.

“I just hope we’re wrong,” Chuck added. “Because if we’re not, we’re talking about people who kill young adults over whatever was taken from that house.”

“It does sound like something out of a mafia movie.”

Chuck gave her a sideways glance.

“Unfortunately, that’s exactly what worries me.”

Lou shook her head.

“I always saw the Demetrios family differently. Maybe I didn’t want to see what was right in front of me.”

Chuck reached across and gently rested his hand against her thigh for a moment, giving her a sympathetic smile. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

Lou covered his hand with hers briefly before returning her attention to the road.

“If you decide to pursue this without the FBI, your parents, or the police, you have to promise me you’ll be careful.”

Chuck nodded.

“And if Stavros or any of his people come after you, you tell me immediately. I’ll get my father involved.”

“Lou…”

“I’m serious. I can stay away from this if that’s what you want, but I won’t stay away from anyone trying to hurt you.”

She looked at him briefly.

“You’re my closest friend, Chuck. My best friend, actually. And I care about you more than you probably realize. I don’t want anything happening to you.”

Chuck gave her a small smile.

“Okay. Done. I promise.”

He squeezed her hand.

“And just so we’re clear, I feel exactly the same way about you.”

They continued driving with their hands still together for several moments before finally letting go.

Neither of them needed to say anything else.

By the time they reached the Buy More shopping plaza, the afternoon traffic had begun to thin. Lou pulled into the parking area in front of the deli and shut off the engine. Neither moved immediately. They simply sat there looking through the windshield, both knowing the conversation had changed something between them.

Finally, Chuck squeezed her hand.

“I should get going. I’ve got things to do.”

Lou turned toward him.

“You’re going to call me?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

They stepped out of the car, and Chuck walked around to Lou’s side. He pulled her into a warm, brotherly hug and kissed the top of her head.

“Don’t work too hard, Lou.”

She smiled as he stepped away.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Chuck Bartowski.”

Chuck started toward his car.

“Hey,” Lou called.

He turned.

“Did you want me to make you a sandwich? You look hungry.”

Chuck smiled.

“No, I’ve got to go, but I’m going to take you up on that offer soon.”

He continued walking backward for a few steps before turning toward his car.

“See you later, gorgeous lady.”

“Shut up, you big nerd!”

Chuck laughed as he climbed into his car. He glanced back once and watched Lou disappear into the deli before starting the engine.

The thoughts of the last few hours returned almost immediately as he pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward his parents’ house. Maybe they could give him some answers. Maybe they could explain why everything he thought he knew about his life suddenly seemed to be changing.

What Chuck didn’t notice was the white van parked farther down the lot.

He didn’t see it pull away a moment later and fall quietly into traffic behind him.

His mother had spent years teaching him to pay attention to his surroundings, to recognize danger, read people, notice when someone was lying, and even determine when he was being followed.

Those lessons had always seemed excessive.

Today, they might have saved his life.

But Chuck’s mind was somewhere else entirely, occupied by Sarah, the Demetrios family, and the questions he hoped his parents could finally answer.

He never realized that someone was already watching over him.

And following close behind.