Chuck and Sarah β Belgrade, a spy's guide
This is the third part of my series about the lovely and loving spy-couple, we all grew to like.
The story takes place right after episode 4.01 ("Chuck vs. the Anniversary") and shows, that failure isn't an option for "Team Bartowski".
I've dedicated this story to my hometown Belgrade β A city that once had quite an illustrious spy-history.
Being a trading place between east and west in the past, I wondered, how it might be sending our spy-friends to this beautiful town.
I hope, you will enjoy my ideas and the story.
Feedback is β as usual β fully appreciated.
I'd like to thank meanblackjack
for editing this story, like he did the previous two. I'm getting better in the process, don't I?
* * * * * * * * *
Even on a rather quiet Sunday noon, the traffic around the central station of Belgrade was a catastrophe. Convoys of honking and partly stinking and smoking cars and buses circled the streets and polluted the warm autumnal air with their exhaust fumes. The yelling and cursing of both, drivers β no matter if car, motorcycle or cab β and pedestrian, filled the air with a dissonant music, sounding like the performers tried to feature different pieces of music with the same intensity. Still the warm and sunny weather had lured countless residents, tourists, visitors and others out of their houses and into the streets and parks of Belgrade.
Kenneth
(never ever to be called Ken at all)
Richardson the third, proud graduate of the
Harvard Law School
, and fledgling MBA of the
Harvard Business School
from Hartford, Conneticut, was one of these tourists, and just enjoyed his
Turska Kafa
at the terrace of a β due to the weather and hour surprisingly empty β little CafΓ© at the corner of
Ulica KaraΔorΔeva
and
Milovana MilovanoviΔa
. In fact, beside him there were only two other guests β and despite the beautiful weather they were already sitting inside at a corner table in the back of the CafΓ©, when he took a seat at the terrace.
The reason for Kenneth's good mood were the pretty girls and young women, Belgrade was even known for in the states. A huge number of them promenaded through the metropolis at the rivers Danube and Sava, and therefore through the parks across from the central station. Kenneth imagined how many of them would have wet panties, if they saw him in his double-breasted
Boss
-suit, with his golden
Rolex Mariner
and in his brand-new
Lexus LFA
.
Back at his condo at Beacon Hill in Boston, many young female attorneys had been crawling into his bed, incredibly turned on by his wealth and connections β at least he thought so. It aroused him that in his opinion this women's career depended on his good will... He was convinced, he had the power.
'But all this scheming sluts, that had abused my good nature, where nothing compared to the women of Belgrade.'
he mused.
'Next to them even the girls in SeΓ±ora Hurons establishment in Cabo have to fade.'
went through his mind, and he thought back at his spring break in Cabo San Luca, two years ago. Back then, as a student, supplied with his fathers platinum card, he thought, he could have every women he wanted... And this wasn't supposed to change ever... That's what he was working for.
The next moment, his attention was drawn back to the present reality. What he saw, made all memories of the sex and fun in Cabo vanish.
In the reflecting window of a parked car he observed a stunning blonde, he had subconsciously already registered before.
Her long slender legs really caught his attention, and when he scanned her luscious legs from the flat ballerinas upwards, he witnessed the hot blonde stashing two guns beneath her vest in her skirt's waistband behind her back, and entering the CafΓ© through the backdoor, without noticing him watching.
'Wait a minute! This was a waitress! A damn armed waitress? What's going on here?'
Was he supposed to be the innocent victim of an assassination by the organized crime? He knew plenty of stories about the crime scene and lawlessness in Belgrade and he was right in the city's heart.
'What the devil made me come here in the first place?'
a whining voice inside his head lamented.
'They're crazy here! They were killing each other and don't give a shit about innocent bystanders.'
Kenneth remembered, they had even killed their own president in a drive-by-shooting on bright daylight.
He spotted a waiter next to the counter, a little shorter and bearded... undoubtedly a Serb, and most likely also a mobster, but Kenneth was willing to take the risk. He just had to tell someone about his observation. Especially because the fake waitress just stepped from behind the counter and with a tablet in her hand approached the table the two men in dark clothes sat on and apparently were seriously discussing something.
"Konobare! Razumete engleski?"
he called the bearded man.
The waiter almost reluctantly and with a annoyed face approached his table and approved his question about his language skills with a nod.
'For Heaven's sake... I just try to save him and his countries reputation, and he acts like a sleeping pill... At least he understands English.'
Kenneth cursed inwardly.
'I should just get out of here and let him die! Why can't this illiterate morons just understand, we only want to protect their unprogressive asses.'
"American?" the waiter asked slightly irritated, when he reached the table, showing an accent, Kenneth registered but couldn't sort in yet.
"Yes, damn right, but that's not the point. I've just seen this blonde entering the CafΓ© through the backdoor. She is armed and approaching the two men at the corner table there β most likely criminals or even worse. They could be her accomplices."
To Kenneth's utter astonishment the waiter just turned to the table in question, watched, shared a glance with the woman and turned back to him with an exerted smile. What he saw now, made him tremble in his pants and feeling his blood rushing to his feet.
As an upright Republican and inhabitant of New England, he of course had recognized the 16-pointed compass rose and the bald eagles head being what it was. Being faced with this signs together with the three capitalized letters on the badge made him so stunned, he almost had missed the little bearded man's whispered words.
"Shut the fuck up, keep drinking you coffee like a good boy and stay calm."
The bearded stretched his hand, demanding his passport.