Jim Bass: International Dad of Mystery
by Karen and LB
© 2002
Chapter 2: Goldsinger
Early 1995
"Agent Bass, it's time."
"He's not ready."
"He's ready, Agent Bass. You knew this day would come. It's time we brought him into the world. Slowly, of course." The Director muses how it was only a few years ago they thought the entire experiment was a failure. There were the braces, there were those awkward months, but Jim kept pressing him to give it time, that the genetic mutation would produce the results they all bargained for. And sure enough, it was happening. "We have a recruit in Orlando--his name is Chris Kirkpatrick. He's going to be putting together a little band. We want C-BOP.56 to be part of it."
"But, sir . . . "
"No buts, Agent Bass. The future of the world depends on it."
****
"But Chris, what was wrong with Jason?" Joey asked for the millionth time.
"I told you--he quit."
"And this new kid?"
"Is supposed to be good. Look, it's just an audition, but Justin's coach says he's really good."
"One I'm sure will be very successful," Lou Pearlman said, entering the room.
Chris looked up, wondering why Lou was so enthusiastic. I'll have to watch him more carefully, he thought.
Summer 1999
"I almost had him!"
"Almost isn't good enough Louistova. We want the boy. You told us you could deliver."
"I can! It would have worked if they hadn't rushed him to the hospital so quickly. The drug was just supposed to knock him out. He had a bad reaction."
"And the girl? What about the girl?"
"He resisted Daniella. I don't know what went wrong."
"You make too many mistakes, Louistova. One more, and it could be your last."
*****
It was Jim Bass's job to observe, and even under the stress of his son's illness, he was doing just that. Agent Kirkpatrick had already been reprimanded for his failure to protect Lance, and to his credit, had taken it calmly, with no excuses. Jim, seeing how protective and attentive the Chasez boy was, decided it was time to bring in another recruit, to tighten the security around his son.
"You understand the importance of this mission," Jim emphasized.
"I, um, yeah. Protect Lance at all costs. But how? I mean, why me? I don't have those skills."
"You're strong, you're athletic, and he trusts you. That's important. Also, we want to use you to communicate messages. I want you to memorize this code. You are to incorporate these into your lyrics. We'll instruct you when the time comes. Other than that, stay close to Lance. Watch him. Make sure he never finds out the truth. Do you understand?"
"But what if he, you know, starts asking questions. Do I lie to him?"
"You just have to make sure he never has a reason to ask. Do whatever you need to distract him."
JC couldn't quite meet Jim's eyes. He looked very young, and very unsure. "And I'll be helping my country?"
"More than you know. The future depends on you."
JC nodded solemnly. "I'll do my best."
Late 1999
There was the lawsuit. Lance knew something was wrong, but he couldn't put his finger on it--it seemed so simple. Misdirection of revenue. But there was more. Lance was sure of it.
January 2000
"Isha, you must make take care of the boy."
"I will, Comrade. You can count on me. We shoot the video tomorrow. I'll make sure he's on the train."
*****
JC had learned over the past few months to trust his instincts. He had developed an almost uncanny intuition where Lance was concerned. And something felt wrong about this shoot. He started dropping hints to Wayne about wanting someone in the car with him.
*****
"You fool! You were supposed to take care of the boy! Now that video will be shown to young people everywhere!"
"I tried, Comrade."
"You didn't try hard enough, Isha. I will have to enlist the help of someone more competent."
March 2000
"Yes, sir, I understand. You have my word. C-BOP.56 will NOT be on the show. I've arranged a little accident . . . "
Lance couldn't understand how he could slip so easily on a puddle of water. Not to mention what the water was doing on the stage in the first place. No matter--the ankle wasn't broken and he was still going to perform, one way or another. This was Saturday Night Live, after all. He never thought much about the strange, almost angry looks Lorne Michaels gave him, though.
JC paced the waiting room, waiting to hear how Lance's ankle was and berating himself. He was slipping, he knew he was. And he knew why. The most unprofessional thing he could have done. He'd fallen in love with his assignment, with Lance. And it had made him sloppy.
JC's cell phone chirped softly, and JC quickly answered. It was Jim Bass, of course. "What's going on, JC? How is he?"
"I'm waiting. They won't let me in because I'm not family. I . . . I don't know how this happened. A little water on the stage, they said."
"Damnit! You were supposed to be watching for anything suspicious. If I can't depend on you I'll bring in someone else. I want you to stay CLOSE to him. One more mistake and you're out."
"I know. I was watching the people, not the floor. It's my fault. Chris and I should have coordinated better. But I should report to you that Lorne Michaels was acting VERY suspicious, as was Cheri Oteri. It seems to me that the threat is escalating. Maybe we need to bring in additional agents? We're thinking of working with a new choreographer. Got anyone like that?"
"Yeah, I do, actually. Now that you mention it. His name is Wade Robson."
"Robson? Isn't he, like, 12?"
"Don't let appearances fool you, son. He's a highly trained agent who's licensed to kill."
"Whoa," JC said appreciatively. "I'm right, aren't I. The threat IS getting more serious."
"That's not your concern if you do your job. STAY CLOSE TO HIM. I don't want to see anymore 'accidents.' "
"Yes, sir. He's coming, I better hang up. You know how he gets when he thinks he's being babied."
"I don't get it--I could have sworn it snapped. But they said it's only a sprain," said Lance, as he hobbled out of the examination room on crutches.
"That's bad enough," JC said. "I'm glad it's not worse." He placed what he hoped was a brotherly hand on Lance's shoulder. "Are they all done with you? Do you want to get out of here?"
"Yeah. I'm hungry. You want to get something to eat?"
"Yeah, sure. Let me just let the guys know what's up." JC pulled out his phone and called Chris, updating him on Lance's condition. He arranged to meet the guys back at NBC as late as possible. He turned to Lance. "Let's go."
At dinner Lance played with his food, his mind elsewhere. "I don't get it, JC. It was only water. How did I slip on water?"
"You hit it wrong is all," JC said. "Remember that time Justin broke his thumb?"
"But he was doing a flip when it happened. I was, like, practically standing there. I think we should go back and check it out."
"I'm sure they've cleaned it up by now."
"Something isn't right, JC."
"Wh-what do you mean?"
"I can't put my finger on it. It's like someone wanted me to fall. That's crazy, isn't it? And what about the X-rays? They show no break, but I KNOW I heard it crack."
"Dude, I've had sprains. It makes a totally gross noise. You sound like you're upset it's not broken."
"I'm just surprised. It's weird. Like . . . when I was sick last year."
JC didn't even like remembering that time. "That's over. That was Lou working you too hard."
"Was it? Y'all were working just as hard and none of you got sick."
"So, what, there's a vast, worldwide conspiracy surrounding you?"
Lance looked up from his plate. Then his face broke out in a smile and he laughed. "That's pretty crazy, isn't it?"
The words were out of JC's mouth before he realized what he was saying. "Don't worry. I'm never going to let anything happen to you."
That night they returned to the hotel. JC stayed with Lance until he fell asleep from the painkillers. The last thought in Lance's mind before he drifted off was not about the strange occurrences of that day, but that he was falling in love.
April 2000
"Jim, are we SURE that Regis isn't, you know, one of them?" Things had been quiet for a month. Too quiet. It made JC jumpy. Every shadow made him suspicious. And Regis always HAD been scary. The fact that JC wasn't there, that Lance's protection this time was in the hands of Diane, made JC even jumpier.
There was a pause, then Jim's voice. "He's KGB, JC."
"I should be there, Jim."
"His mother can handle it. We don't think Regis will do anything drastic. He's just trying to get information. But don't worry--the questions are rigged. We have someone on the inside."
"And Rosie's going to be there the whole time, right?"
"She gave us her word."
"Good. I think the training's going well. I'll definitely be ready for the tour."
"We can't have any slip-ups, JC. Not one. We're entering a crucial phase."
"I'm on it. Pink won't get a single minute alone with him."
Lance somehow made it through Millionaire, but sensed a certain animosity coming off Regis. His mother reassured him he did fine. With time to relax before the tour, he received a mysterious invitation from Emeril to be a guest on his show.
Again, JC felt helpless. Not wanting to raise Lance's suspicions, they arranged for an agent to be placed next to him. Between her quick actions, and Lance's natural courtesy, she was able to taste each dish before Lance did, thus ensuring his safety.
March 2002
Lance awakens with a start. 2 a.m. He has another urge to call JC. The clues are there, but he can't seem to piece them together. It's like he's a puppet. A puppet . . .
May 2000
The No Strings Attached tour began with much hype. Lance loved the new gags. Well, almost all of them. Something about the clown disturbed him. It was like it was . . . watching him.
July 2000.
Challenge for the Children. And JC's greatest challenge to date. Surrounded by fans in a harder-to-control environment. Pink, on Lance's team. JC knew Jim had called in several additional agents, anonymous in the crowd, but he was still worried.
Lance had gotten to know Pink pretty well since the tour kicked off, so it was no wonder she was eager to be part of Challenge for the Children. He knew he shouldn't question her attentiveness, but when he was sitting of the floor of the basketball court and she came over and lay down with her head in his lap, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He wanted to ask JC about it, but the game was going on and they were busy entertaining the fans.
JC almost blew his cover when Pink had so blatantly accosted Lance, but he saw that Chris has moved into position nearby and Queen Latifah was also hovering protectively. The dangerous moment passed and JC proceeded to miss another basket.
Later, at the afterparty, Pink once again sidled up to Lance. He found himself backed into a corner, helpless to fend her off.
This time JC did move. "Hey, dude," he said over Pink's shoulder. "They want us for some photo op."
Lance was strangely relieved, but as he turned to follow JC out, Pink grabbed his arm. "I'll see YOU later."
"Not if we see you first," JC said, then laughed.
"Don't you think Alicia was acting strange?" Lance asked JC later, on the way to their rooms.
"Maybe she wants you."
"She's nice and all, but . . . I just don't see that. Besides, I'm not interested in her."
"You're not?"
"No. You knew that."
"Did I? We've never really talked about this."
"Do we have to?"
"Oh. Oh. No, I guess not. Um, good night."
"Wait. I meant, do we have to talk at all?"
"Isn't that what people do?"
"Yes. Um, except for this." Lance closed his eyes then, and kissed JC.
JC knew he shouldn't be doing this, knew it was wrong, but he'd wanted it for so long that he couldn't say no. So when the kiss ended, he whispered, "Maybe we should take this, like, out of the hall?"
Lance yanked him into the room without giving it another thought.
As soon as the door closed behind them, JC kissed Lance again, slowly, savoring the sweetness of finally having in his arms the man he'd wanted for so long.
September 2000
"JC, we have a problem."
"Sir?"
"It's the awards. There's some concern that the show might be rigged."
"Who? How?"
"I can't give you the details. We received an intelligence from someone on the inside. I want you to stay as close to Lance as possible. Don't let him out of your sight. Stick to him like glue during rehearsals." "I will," JC said, grinning so widely it was practically audible over the phone. And he was true to his word. Even when the guys split up to do interviews, he made sure he was with Lance.
March 2002
Lance tosses and turns in bed, trying desperately to get back to sleep. He shouldn't be thinking about this now. He has other things to think about. But his mind wouldn't let it go.
December 2000
Everything had been fine, until he and JC went to the Angel Ball in New York.
"I'm telling you, something's going on," Lance told JC conspiratorially in their hotel room while the girls were getting ready.
"What do you mean?"
"I just have this feeling we're being watched."
"Of course we're being watched. We're, you know, celebrities."
"I'm not talking about that. This is different."
"Different how?"
"Like everywhere we go someone's watching everything we're doing, everything we're saying. Don't you feel it?"
"I haven't noticed anything unusual."
"Open your eyes, JC!"
"My eyes are open. And you look amazing in that tux."
Lance runs a nervous hand through his hair. "You're not listening. Something's wrong, and I'm gonna find out what it is."
"Lance, please. Can't we just have a good time tonight? If there is something going on, we'll figure it out."
"When, JC? You tell me. Because something's wrong and you're not gonna help me, I'll do it myself."
"Tomorrow. We've got the whole flight. You'll tell me what you're seeing and we'll see if we can put the pieces together."
"It's gotta be tonight. Something could happen tonight."
"So, what? We don't go tonight? We sit in this room and try to figure it out?"
"I don't know!"
"Lance, PLEASE let's not fight."
"I'm not fighting! I'm trying to find some answers and you're not helping!"
"Lance, I told you I'd help. But our hands are tied tonight."
"Your hands, obviously, not mine." And so it went until it was time to leave. Lance was edgy the whole night. He tried to put up a front when they presented an award to Michael Jackson, but as he circulated the party after he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was after him.
After making sure that both Bobbie and Laura were keeping an eye on Lance, JC slipped away to call Jim. "You've got to pull back the surveillance. He really suspects something."
"What does he know?"
"Nothing. He just has a sense of being watched. And he feels threatened by it."
"This is not good. You have to do whatever it takes to convince him nothing's going on. Distract him in any way necessary. Get him drunk if you have to. I don't care--just as long as he doesn't find out the truth."
"I've been trying, but he's angry with me. You KNOW how stubborn he gets when he's angry. I wouldn't be asking you to pull back if I didn't think it was crucial."
So that's what Jim did, with JC's word that he would follow Lance around like a magnet to steel. Only that pissed off Lance even more, and by the time they were ready to head back to San Diego for the final two shows of t he tour, Lance wasn't speaking to JC. They managed to work things out by the last show, and when the rolling stage stopped short during This I Promise You and JC almost fell off, Lance was there to catch him. It never occurred to him that the fall was meant for him.
January 2001
Brazil. It had been a while since they'd been out of the country, and it made JC jumpy. So many people, and it seemed like they were surrounded all the time. And, for once, agency intelligence was sketchy, so JC was never sure where there was a threat.
His suspicions of the past December all but forgotten, Lance threw himself into having a good time. He drank, he danced, and he even hung out with Aaron Carter by the pool.
"JC, keep a close eye on Lance, especially when he's outside," ordered Jim over the phone. "He's completely vulnerable in his bathing suit."
But SO hot. thought JC. Aloud, he said, "Agent Carter's doing a great job. We're lucky to have him."
"Yes, he's perfect for this mission. No one would suspect he's a highly specialized agent."
"Who would have thought after his brother was such a wash-out?"
"We tried, but he just couldn't cut it. He's a good foil, though."
Outside by the pool, Lance tossed a ball to Aaron and decided to get himself some lunch. He headed over to the bar and sat in the shade, waiting for his order to arrive. JC walked into the bar just in time to see Sting slip into a seat next to Lance. He moved closer and heard Sting asking some rather leading questions. Lance, naturally not forthcoming, was answering cautiously.
Sting? JC thought. It can't be. JC made eye contact with Aaron, telegraphing his question. He watched while Aaron called in for information and saw the answer in his face. JC quickly joined Lance, masking his sadness at his idol's being one of the bad guys under a facade of congenial curiosity. Lance figured JC just wanted some face time with his favorite performer. But Sting seemed a bit abrupt when JC approached, and left soon after .
The incident was all but forgotten later in the afternoon, when Lance slipped away to go hang gliding. "He went WHERE? Damnit, Chris, I get called away for one interview and you let him go hang gliding?"
"You want to watch your tone, JC. I DO outrank you."
"Then ACT like it. Who'd he go with?"
"I dunno . . . "
"Chris! Is anyone with him? Aaron? Beck? Axl?"
Lance didn't mind going alone. It was rare that he wasn't with one of the guys, so it was kind of cool having this little adventure all to himself. The guide was a little on the suspicious side, though. As he harnessed Lance he kept giving him this look. Lance felt the hackles on his neck stand up, but brushed it aside as last-minute jitters.
JC broke several Brazilian speed laws getting to where Chris said Lance had gone. Just as he had suspected, Sting was there, on the ground, gazing interestedly at the sky. "We weren't properly introduced earlier. I'm JC Chasez."
"I know who you are."
"Out for some hang gliding, are you?"
"My kids wanted to go. You'd never get me up there."
"Call it off."
"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about."
"You're not fooling me for an instant. Call. It. Off. You're surrounded by agents. Do you really want to cause an international incident?"
Sting stared at the boy for a moment, surprised at the ferocity in his normally placid blue eyes. "Abort," he said, angrily into a tiny microphone. "Abort."
Lance was having a fantastic time. He couldn't remember the last time he was this relaxed. Which is why he was all the more puzzled by his friends' behavior. They all seemed slightly on edge, JC especially, which was odd because JC was usually so laid back when they weren't performing.
That night, they were invited to perform on a Brazilian talk show.
"JC, I heard about the interception today. Good work. I think they're backing off. For now."
Or so Jim thought.
It was during the show that the host mentioned a special Brazilian dance and brought out four beautiful dancers. He asked for a volunteer, and Lance, feeling adventurous once again, volunteered. With a malicious grin, the host cued the band and the dance began. And Lance found himself moving in ways he normally didn't.
JC realized his only hope was to distract Lance, so he jumped up and started heckling Lance. The other guys quickly followed suit. JC desperately hoped that their voices--HIS voice--would pull Lance out of the trance he'd been lulled into.
Lance felt so strange, like he was swimming, but he wasn't in water. Everything lost focus and he felt himself falling--until he heard JC's voice. And then Joey's. And that snapped him out. When he realized he was gyrating while surrounded by four scantily clad women he burst out laughing and staggered back to his seat, red-faced and sweating. He never realized he was seconds away from being captured.