Caught Unaware

Chapter 10

AGENTS CHUCK BARTOWSKI/CHARLES CARMICHAEL AND SARAH WALKER

HOTEL ALTIMARA,

CARACAS, VENEZUELA

A smiling, laughing couple walked into the Hotel Altimara late into the evening. The man, tall with khaki shorts and bold sunglasses was carrying the bulk of the luggage and seemed to be unable to take his eyes off the woman accompanying him. He leaned on the counter, removing his glasses before pressing the little bell to signal for some help at the counter. The woman beside him set her two bags before opening a compact and checking her lipstick. She had the air of conceit about her, until she closed the compact and tucked it away into her purse. Then she wrapped her arms around her companion's arm, lifting up on tiptoe to whisper something into his ear.

The service bell rang another time before a short gentleman came out, clad in hotel uniform.

"Yes, my good man! My wife and I are deeply sorry for being late," the tall man removed his glasses and pointedly looked at his star-struck companion. "She absolutely had to see all the sights of your beautiful city, AFTER, of course we rode the cable car in Merida. And took hours to get here from there by bus... I'm thoroughly exhausted, are you able to get us into a nice room at this time of night?"

The man behind the counter looked tired but was very mannerly. He turned to his computer and began typing on it. The man in front of the counter brushed off a wandering hand from an apparent inebriated wife and produced a few paper bills.

"For your trouble this late hour, friend," he said, sliding the bill across the counter. It was slowly received and with a smile they had their room key in very few seconds. The couple were engaged in flirtatious PDA all the way to the elevator and the front desk clerk shook his head, counted the money in his hands and went back to the office where he was set up to sleep.

"Well, Mr. Carmichael, I have to say you handled that brilliantly," said the woman to her lover as soon as the elevator doors closed.

"Well, I am well known for being able to handle almost any emergency with grace and tact, Mrs. Carmichael," answered her cover husband.

Sarah smiled and kissed his cheek.

"But did you have to tell him all about our adventures?"

"Did you think that was a bit much?" asked Chuck.

"Maybe a little," answered Sarah.

"You know me, Mister Over-share," shrugged a sheepish Chuck.

They walked out of the elevator when the doors opened and they quickly found their room and entered.

It was a sizable room with a wooden-framed Queen sized bed, the bedspread was a soft pastel floral pattern. The walls were a cream-color and they had a window overlooking some of the capitol city of Venezuela. Chuck set down the luggage he had been carrying and turned to see the fully-stocked bar that was under the television set.

"Ooh, what do we have here?" Chuck began to pour himself a drink. Sarah walked over and took the glass away.

"We, my darling, have a debriefing before the meeting tomorrow night. So we need to be at our best." Chuck looked at her before taking the glass back.

"We are billionaires on the run, how weird would it look if we didn't empty our bar?"

"We could dump it all down the drain," Sarah offered, "and spend the night sober and aware of everything that may or may not happen." She tossed him a sultry look over her shoulder as she climbed on the bed.

"Oh, Mrs. Carmichael, you clearly are the brains of this operation," Chuck's lowered voice replied. His eyes were glued to the woman of his dreams as he quickly stripped himself of his shoes and pants before climbing into bed with her and kissing her deeply.

They had spent the last day and a half traveling around Venezuela, and were beginning to establish themselves as the roles they were given.

Sarah and Chuck met with CIA undercover operatives that took them to three different underground sales. One art, one arms and one was an exotic species sale. By appearing at all three, and spending vast amounts of money, they had easily integrated themselves and become familiar faces with the heads of the terrorist group, the flor de Mayo.

A knock on the door interrupted the couple's intimacy. Chuck and Sarah each grabbed their weapons of choice, a tranq gun for Chuck, and Sarah's CIA-issued S&W 5906, aiming for the door they were slowly approaching. The knock sounded again and Sarah looked through the peephole, relaxed and handed the gun to Chuck, who kept it pointed as she began to open the door.

The desk clerk from downstairs handed Sarah a small envelope. She thanked him and closed the door. After locking it, Sarah opened the envelope while Chuck replaced the weapons to their rightful homes. Glancing up at Sarah's still figure, Chuck grew concerned quickly.

"Sarah? Baby, what is it?" Sarah was quiet for a moment and then looked up at Chuck.

"Amelia Cershaw's uncle was found hung in Canada, there was a public threat that she was next and the terrorist group we are tying ourselves into is responsible." Chuck shook his head in disbelief. He'd had a different look on humanity before he was involved with the government, that there were more good people than bad, and the bad were always deep in some hole in the ground where normal people couldn't be influenced by their nefarious ways.

"He'd been hiding out for several years, and they still found him. From Venezuela to Canada. That's a pretty far reach, Chuck," Sarah continued. Chuck beckoned Sarah to sit by his side on the bed.

"Are we being pulled from our own operations?" he asked when she made her way to him.

"No, we are just being informed and reminded to be absolutely perfect in convincing them we are who we say we are. These people are just like Volcroft was: mean, tenacious and desperate to see their ambitions come to life."

"No worries," said Chuck, wrapping an arm around Sarah's shoulders and looking into her eyes. "Tomorrow we go to the meeting and we find out where our next stop is." Chuck and Sarah turned off the light of their room and crawled into bed together, kissing before Sarah turned over and Chuck wrapped his arms around her waist.

The room was as silent as it was dark, the sounds of the city were muffled by the thick walls of the hotel. Chuck kissed Sarah's hair and snuggled closer against her.

"I wonder how Casey's making out," he murmured, eyes closed.

"I'm sure he's doing fine, for Casey," Sarah answered, smiling in the darkness.