CHAPTER TEN:
The breeze was bitterly cold. The weather forecaster had predicted snow for later that evening, and of course, Dovjenskji was wandering the streets of Paris. Sydney was finding it very hard to act like a loving new wife when her whole face was numb. But of course, Sydney was a professional, and did her job very well. It also didn't hurt that she was standing very close and slightly behind Sark, using him as a wind block and letting him get the full brunt of the cruel wind. Ahh, the benefits of marriage, she thought sarcastically to herself.
Meanwhile, Sark was on RedAlert!Mode, keeping track of Dovjenskji's every move. He found that being on full alert was a fairly effective way blocking out Sydney's presence. Almost. He could still feel her hand tucked into the crook of his arm, and the way she pressed herself to him. He was somewhat pleased that she had gotten her act together, and had her mind back on the mission. Because if her mind was on the mission, it couldn't be on that pillock, Agent Vaughn. Not that I care, he had to remind himself.
Suddenly Sark pulled Sydney over to admire something a store window. She looked up inquisitively at him, and as he was pointing to something in the display he moved behind her and whispered in her ear.
"He's just met up with Viktor Karenin, another top ranking Alliance member. This looks like a promising lead." They both watched in the reflection as the two men stood and chatted for a few minutes, before boarding a double-decker bus that pulled up along side them. Sark met Sydney's eyes in the window.
"Ready to role play?"
They turned from the window, and pretending to spot the bus, hurried over and boarded. Scanning the lower deck Sydney turned to Sark and spoke in her 'Elizabeth Spencer' voice.
"Geoffrey, darling, let's sit up on top. I want to be able to see the city better." Not waiting for a reply, Sydney made her way up the narrow staircase, leaving Sark to follow behind. Which was a very bad decision, all things considered. Sydney going first, made Sark have to go second, obvious enough, but what she didn't count on was how close it made her butt to Sark's eye level. And her fashionable pants allowed him a very good view. And he took full advantage of the situation. This is definitely the last time I look at her like this, Sark mentally told himself.
"Geoff, honey?" Sydney looked tenderly at Sark.
Oh yeah, except for this.
Sydney had reached the top of the stairs and looked back towards Sark.
"Where should we sit, honey?" Sydney was playing the role of 'easily-led, rich bimbo' to perfection.
"Where ever you choose, my darling. I want you to be happy." Sark could see Dovjenskji giving Sydney the appreciative once-over. Sark countered by seating himself close to Sydney, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, and pulling her close as if to keep her warm. I bet he change his mind, Sark thought, smugly, if he knew that she could knock him unconscious in less time than it takes to ask her name.
The seat Sydney had chosen was two behind where Dovjenskji and Karenin had sat. They were both sitting forward, Karenin with a briefcase in his lap. Nothing really pointed them out as suspicious, but Sydney noticed that neither man was looking at the scenery. Syd and Sark played married couples for a while, exclaiming over landmarks and speaking sweet nothings to each other, all the while watching the two men. They had their heads together and were talking in low voices. Suddenly Sydney exclaimed, "This wind is making my lips chapped!" and promptly began to rummage in her pockets, finally producing a stick of lip-gloss. She took an exorbitant amount of time to apply said lip-gloss and finally replaced deep into her pocket. Sark looked questioningly at her, and she leaned in and breathed into his ear, "Hidden microphone, records sounds from up to 630 metres away in perfect definition. Whatever those guys are talking about, we'll know."
The rest of the trip was uneventful, with Sydney pulling out the lip-gloss microphone a few more times, and with Sark pointing out pieces of Paris at night. Syd was well relaxed, leaning into the warmth of Sark and enjoying the journey. As the bus pulled to a jerky stop, breaching Sydney's comfortable travel haze. She snapped upright as she realised just how 'all-over' Sark she was sitting. She got up and began to follow the two men off the bus, not realising that in her panic she was starting to look very suspicious. When the two men stepped off the bus, Sydney couldn't have been more than fifty centimetres behind them, and in her haste she misjudged the last step off the bus and began to fall.
An arm snaked quickly around her waist, preventing her headlong fall into the pavement. She was lifted from the step and replaced on the sidewalk. Sydney was turned toward her rescuer, only to see it was Sark staring at her with a concerned expression.
"Baby, are you ok?" Sydney realised that the two men they were supposed to be secretly surveilling were staring at the two of them. Sydney took a shaky breath.
"I'm fine, I must have turned my ankle." She had almost forgotten to speak with her accent. Fortunately she didn't, or it would have blown their cover. "Luckily you were there to save me."
"That's what I'm here for, your knight in shining armour."
Dovjenskji and Karenin were still staring at them suspiciously, so Sark did the only thing he could think of. It was something that he had been wanting, and dreading, all night.
He kissed her.
She did the only thing she could think of.
She kissed him back.