ACME Headquarters, San Francisco, California
Steadily making his way up to the corner office after excusing himself from breakfast, Chase Devineaux thought about Luxembourg. The decision to send out an S.O. Trainee in response to an informant's message sounded convincingly like protocol, he liked that. Despite the informant being Lee Jordan, Chase was confident that things would go smoothly.
Entering his workspace, what greeted him was odd -- a woman in his chair. At first glance, Chase recalled that Chief's family was visiting and some may be wandering about. It would explain why she looked familiar; but as he opened his mouth to ask if she thought this office was someone else's, their eyes met, and he realized that she was far from lost. Whatever question he had evaporated, and Devineaux shut the door behind him.
"Do you live here now?" Carmen commented, putting away the puzzle cube. Chase's hungry falcon and the clothes he wore hinted of an overnight rendezvous with work and an early morning shower at the building's gym. A sense of pride at her ability to deduct all that sparked a momentary smile.
He saw no need to answer her question. Seeing her outside the usual coat and hat, Chase recalled parts of her features that he had forgotten. When they first met, she was lanky and boyish, attractively witty but crude. Later in the years, she deserted her jeans for skirts -- admittedly, those were some of the best memories Chase had of her. She grew up, and despite being demanding, she had an appealing way of approaching everything. Her years among other children in orphanages must have made her sociable. As an only child, Chase never quite understood childhood hierarchy, and spent much of his younger days mimicking his father. Carmen opened his eyes, and he wondered if that was enough of a reason to let her sit in his armchair.
"Speechless?" she playfully hinted at his silence, "I wasn't here long."
"You can't be here," He said, decidedly, "A meeting in the desert, and now this..."
"What are you afraid of?"
He shook his head, and then breathed, letting her continue.
"I'm not here for much, Chase," she flatly stated, "My Knight, perhaps."
"Wrong office," he countered, "you'll get him when Chief's department is done."
"That could take months, and you have the authority to give exemption." Carmen remembered what Sarah Nade told her. The interrogator for Sarah's case was Chase Devineaux, who evidently granted the detainee an early release for cooperation. In immediate retrospect, Carmen wished she had not mentioned Sir Vile; that only deviated from the point.
"This isn't yours anymore; you can't ask for favors," by 'this' Chase meant ACME, "playing with fire doesn't magically make things go your way."
She wanted to yell at him for making assumptions, but it was useless to argue. Not long ago, Carmen asked Chase to find Lee Jordan. Weeks later, she discovered from sources in Hong Kong that Lee was now an ACME informant. From her perspective, Chase not only kept his word, but also sagaciously placed Lee where the threat was least pestilent. Her unfeigned reason for coming here was to thank him for that, but now, she questioned it. He was naturally chivalrous. The former agent had seen, even through times of uncertainty, that his moral compass had an incorruptible way of pointing true north. In his eyes, helping her might have been merely the right thing to do.
If that was so, then he was right. She should leave, but should she also thank him?
"Your informant in Luxembourg," she restarted the conversation in a calmer tone, "I know who he is."
Right, Chase thought, expecting a full lecture on judging character, I brought Jordan back to ACME. He inadvertently hired Lee Jordan, nothing he was particularly proud of, but nothing he would hide if asked. Things had been circumstantial, and he was doing his best keeping the punk from destructive behavior.
"I didn't hire him on character," Chase took a seat on the office couch, feeling somewhat defensive. She was sitting; he might as well do the same, "Don't confuse me for something I'm not."
Carmen was certainly not confused, but thanking a man who didn't care for gratitude would be extraneous. Talking to Chase, apparently, was a waste of time. After a moment of infuriating silence, she stood from the chair to leave.
"Hold it," Chase was on his feet, "I'll walk you out." While he couldn't pinpoint her motives, he knew it was safer for both ACME and the infamous Carmen Sandiego if he made sure she left the building.
"Don't." She snapped at him a serrated look. "I know my way around."
She's angry again, Chase realized with a taint of bitterness, and he let her go. "You can't have everything," the agent added as an afterthought.
"That...," she rejoined when she was half way out of the door, "and you can't save it all."
Exiting, the thief walked towards what was now Chief Everard Weller's office. Even when she knew him as Doctor Weller, before he became chief, Carmen liked his style of teaching. He was patient, and always a good sport. From the hall, she saw him in his element: humming a tune in a bright office with his pipe at hand, and breezing through reports.
"Good morning, Dr. Weller," She greeted in passing.
From there, she made her way to the underground parking, where a car awaited. The ACME lobby should now be full of detectives, leaving out the front door, while titillating, would be ludicrous.
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